Childhood sexual abuse is a crime that wields a weapon far more insidious than the physical—it is a slow, insidious act of murder. Not the kind that leaves a body in the ground, but a murder that erases the essence of a child, that slaughters the soul. It is a death that haunts, that echoes in the chambers of the heart, a ghost that never fades.
As a child, I was a vessel of innocence, filled with dreams and laughter. Then came the betrayal, the violation that carved out my spirit like a thief in the night. In those moments, I wasn’t just hurt; I was erased. The joyful girl I had been was replaced by a shadow, a specter wandering through the wreckage of what should have been.
Each act of abuse was a blade, cutting deeper into my core, leaving me to grapple with a void so profound that it felt like my very being had been siphoned away. I wear this loss like a shroud, a constant reminder that I have been marked. The laughter of my childhood, once sweet, now tastes of bitterness and grief.
I find myself wrestling with the idea of survival. How do you reclaim a soul that has been murdered? The scars are not just physical; they whisper in my ear, reminding me that trust is a fragile illusion and how quickly betrayal can happen. I navigate the world with a heart heavy with grief, a heart that mourns not just for the innocence lost but for the future that was stolen.
In this twisted reality, I learn that healing is not about forgetting. It’s about facing the truth of that murder, recognizing the shadows it casts over my life. I seek to breathe life back into what was taken, to resurrect the parts of me that were left behind in the darkness. It’s a journey fraught with pain, but in reclaiming my narrative, I begin to understand that while my soul may bear the marks of violence, it still longs to soar.
I will not let this be my end. I will rise from the ashes of this soul murder, fierce and unyielding. For in the depths of my despair, I find the seeds of resilience, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I can reclaim the full life that was meant for me. Slowly, I’m getting there.
B 🤍
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