Amanda’s Story: Not a Single Person Knows

Amanda’s Story: Not a Single Person Knows

Sometimes I get a little resentful and angry that nobody noticed.
I was amazing at hiding it, but sometimes I find myself questioning why no one saw through my façade.
Why no one recognizes that I’m still hurting.
Then again, I don’t think there’s anyone I could tell that would offer me support.
My parents are pretty devout Catholics, and I’m scared their first reaction would be to condemn the fact that I didn’t “wait till marriage” or some bullshit like that
My brother and I are really close, and I don’t want him to look at me differently.
Same with my friends.

A couple people know bits and pieces.
Like how he used to hit me sometimes.
Or how he was 13 years older than me – I was fifteen.

On the rare occasion that I do talk about him, I refer to him as my ex-boyfriend so no one will even suspect that he wasn’t.
Because he wasn’t.
He was my pimp.

Sometimes I get mad at myself for being to weak to leave before it was too late.
Even when I did get out, it wasn’t because I up and left or anything.
He just got arrested for something else.

I’m in college now – the furthest college I could get to, ten hours away from my home.
I feel like I should be over it, but for some reason it’s gotten worse since I got to college.
I can’t sleep or focus.
And I still haven’t told anyone the full story.

I really want to. I feel it bubbling up in my chest sometimes, but then I catch myself.
I’m a bit sad.



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