Why Did She Stay?

She’s 18, at a frat party.

Spotted, targeted, by a senior.

He gets her to his room,

Puts on a comedy special,

(Louis C.K., ironically)

And rips away her virginity on his dirty futon.

No one warned her there’d be so much blood.

He’s furious about the mess.

She hides in bed for days,

Telling herself it wasn’t rape

Because she liked the kissing part.

She only wishes he would have considered asking.

She’s 19, leaving her first boyfriend.

She’d never really wanted to date him,

But couldn’t seem to break away.

Burdened by his constant threats

To hurt himself and others,

She’s somehow made to feel responsible for his life.

When she tells him it’s over,

He chugs an entire bottle of whiskey,

Breaks his hand on the wall,

And tries to dive off of the second-story balcony.

Still, he texts her every birthday for years,

Hoping to reconnect.

She’s 21, entering the police academy.

She couldn’t stop her own assaults,

Couldn’t even admit them to herself,

But maybe she could help other victims find justice.

How sweet and naive she still was then.

Male officers flirt with her mercilessly,

Then call her a slut behind her back.

She learns it’s safer to laugh,

Because they joke about not showing up, “slow-rolling”,

When other female officers need help.

The ones they label bitches

For not playing along.

She’s 22, and before she can say “possessive”,

She’s dating a fellow cop.

He drunkenly claims to love her after one hook-up,

While grabbing her arm too tight.

After just a few months, he moves in.

His passion and partying seemed fun at first,

But his intense jealousy frightens her.

So does his massive gun collection.

He’s the life of the party,

Until he gets her alone each night.

Their coworkers look the other way,

Even after he publicly tries to shoot her.

Their relationship is their business.

She’s 27, escaping her abuser of 5 years.

His anger and alcoholism will kill him,

But it doesn’t have to kill her.

So she finally tells her closest friends,

And makes a safety plan with a therapist.

He doesn’t mind once he knows she’s done.

He knows he’s drained her dry,

Wholly devoured her sense of self.

Anyway, he’s already been cheating on her,

Onto his fresh new supply.

She loses her home, her job, her life savings.

It’s absolutely fucking worth it.

She’s 31, in the middle of the desert.

She summits mountains in the blazing heat.

She has insomnia and a CPTSD journal.

Her dogs are reactive

And so is she.

They’re all overwhelmed

And they’re all on medication.

After years of fear and silence,

She’s finally sharing her story.

Last month, she earned $200 on an article

And toasted champagne with her best friend.

She can’t believe she’s alive.