Raised By Scar (18+)

That night, sleep didn't come easy.

I curled into myself, body stiff, eyes wide, not from fear anymore but from confusion. I kept replaying everything the hallway, the touch, his face, my silence. Over and over.

At some point, I began to question whether my reaction was dramatic. Maybe I had imagined the aggression. Maybe I made it heavier than it really was.

But then I'd touch my chest and feel the soreness and it would come back.

Everything.

I got up, quietly. The light from the moon fell through the curtains in crooked strips. I tiptoed to the mirror and stood there for a while, just staring. Not at my face. At my body.

There was no mark. Nothing visible.

But I looked different to myself.

I turned sideways. Then front again. I even smiled at the mirror to see if I could still recognize my own expression.

The smile didn't stay long.

I didn't like what I saw. I didn't trust it.

Morning came, but I didn't. I realized the morning wasn't going to be the same again. Things had changed.

I didn't rise with the sun. I didn't move when I heard Josh in the kitchen. I just lay there still in the clothes he touched, still in the skin that didn't feel like mine anymore.

The ceiling had lines. I counted them. Over and over again. Anything to keep from counting the memory.

I wasn't sure how to name what happened. It wasn't loud. It didn't leave blood. But it left something else a splitting inside me, like silence could break bones.

POV: Some things don't echo when they break. They just disappear.

I avoided the mirror. I didn't want to see if I looked different. If my eyes had changed shape. If shame had a color.

When Uncle Benny called for breakfast, I stayed in.

I said I wasn't feeling well.

Which wasn't a lie.

My body felt like a stranger like I was borrowing it for the day.

Josh was talking. Laughing. His usual self. Uncle Benny nodded as he ate, not noticing the silence I was choking on.

When Josh passed me the spoon, our fingers touched. My whole body stiffened.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even pause.

He was that comfortable.

That normal.

It made my blood run cold.

Josh knocked once, didn't wait for a reply, and opened the door halfway.

Purity, he said, his voice soft. You good?

POV: He must be mad, asking me if I'm good after what happened last night.

He stood there like nothing happened. Like he hadn't unwrapped me like a gift no one gave him.

I nodded. Not because I was okay. But because I didn't know how to say, You took something I can't explain.

He left without pressing. I was expecting the worst.

And that was worse.

At school, Anna noticed the difference before I spoke.

You're quiet, she said I'm just tired I said

She didn't believe me, but she didn't push.She exhaled, rubbed my back, and said no more. But I saw it in her face the questions she wanted to ask, the worry she was swallowing. I hated lying to her.

But I couldn't speak.

It wasn't that I didn't trust her.

It was that I didn't trust myself. 

Anna she gave space, even when she wanted to fill it.

We walked to the craft room like always, but my hands wouldn't move the same way. I dropped the brush three times. I couldn't focus.

Later, I sat in the library and stared at books I didn't read. Words blurred. Pages stayed still. But inside, I was screaming.

POV: When your voice leaves you, even breathing feels like pretending.

At home, I cleaned my room twice in one evening. Rearranged my books. Changed my bedsheet. Moved the chair to the other corner.

Nothing stayed right. Even the air felt off.

I missed the early days when I arrived. When everything was new and soft. When silence was healing. When Josh was cold but distant, not warm and dangerous.

I missed being invisible.

That night, I folded my clothes differently. I put my bra under my pillow. I locked the door twice, even though it didn't need it.

Josh said nothing. Not during dinner. Not in the hallway. He laughed at a show on TV like he hadn't crossed a line so deep I couldn't find the start of it.

And I smiled even though my skin flinched at the sound of his laugh.

The days that followed moved slowly. But I didn't.

I spoke when spoken to. I bathed longer. I ate less. I dreamt more.

And when I woke from those dreams, I touched my chest like I was checking if it still belonged to me.

Some nights I whispered, Don't come in.

Even when the door was locked.

Some mornings, I wondered if it really happened the way I remembered it.

Maybe I overreacted.

Maybe I should have fought.

Maybe I stayed too still.

POV: The scariest part isn't what they do to your body. It's how they teach you to question your mind.

I still haven't told anyone.

But one day, I will.

Because this silence isn't mine to carry forever.

That weekend, Anna asked if I wanted to go out with her and a few others.

I said no.

I wasn't ready to be around too many people.

I wasn't ready to act like the laughter around me wouldn't feel like glass.

I stayed home. I stayed quiet.

Josh didn't bother me.

But his silence felt loaded like he knew he'd done something and didn't care.

At night, I turned on my back and stared at the ceiling again.

Same lines,same count,same ache.

I don't know when I'll tell. Or who I'll tell.

But this silence isn't going to be my ending.

Something inside me is still alive.

Even if it's buried under doubt and fear and memory, it's still there waiting to come out.

Maybe one day, I'll look at him and say it.

Maybe I'll shout it. Or write it.

Or cry it into someone's arms.

But not today not yet.

POV: Healing doesn't always start with telling. Sometimes, it starts with knowing the truth… and not shrinking from it.