Hell Behind the Frontdoor

15 10 2008

Tonight’s events have made me realise I have little to complain about when it comes to the grand scheme of things. Lately, every entry I hate wrote seems to be me whining on about how bad things are for me well tonight made me sit back and think that my selfishness has become all consuming.

I was ‘allowed’ to read something tonight that my friend had wrote, something from the depths of her being that she put down on paper in the hope that it would calm some of the eternal storm she carries inside.

She was abused. Sexually abused. By her Dad.

The same man that is supposed to protect her from the hells the world had to offer in her youth actually made her walk into hell.

I could have said I understand, after all I too know what it’s like to be the victim of a sex attack, but it would be a lit, I don’t understand. A monster who spiked the drink of a strange woman – who had in fact had too much to drink anyway – is in no way to be compared (in my mind) to a father putting his daughter through years of hell.

In a world where evil can lurk in every shadow in every dimly light street we expect the comfort of our own houses, the warmth of our family to help shut that same evil out. But what if that evil is contained behind the façade of a cosy welcoming house.

True horror, it seems, lies behind red front doors and white picket fences.

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4 responses

15 10 2008
oracleofthepearl

The ultimate betrayal.
I am sorry for your friend. It’s hard to ever find the silver lining for something like this, or for what you’ve gone through either.
It breaks a part of you.
There is a strange Sisterhood in it, this I do know. Perhaps in your heart touching this in your friend, it will be for you as well. Hugs to both of you from me.

16 10 2008
shortdigitalpictures

I feel bad for your friend and I know what she’s going through, to put it not to “open”. But remember that you can not compare your pain to hers and think that she had it worse. and i bet you that she doesn’t see you past as “what is she complaining about/ i’ve had it worse”.
either being a family member or someone that spikes a drink -it is still rape and the pain and suffering of that will still exist in the same degree.
I strongly believe that new memories can make us live with bad memories but I also strongly believe in kicking, screaming, crying and being mad cause how else are we going to feel ok?
I’m sending you a hug from rainy Ireland. x

17 10 2008
glaize

I’m sorry for what your friend has gone through. But you mentioned that she wrote it down to ease herself. That is proof enough that she is strong. Hugs to both of you for being able to stand on your feet, though it’s heavy you still stand.

20 10 2008
Duma Key

This is deep your words echo much. The every day danger is clear it is the hidden danger that does so much more, the hidden knife behind a smile, the cutting edge of a freindly face. When the the very place you need to run to contains the danger, lifes become distorted ruined.
I often wonder why these people are alowed children, surely if this “god” exists, this thing that represents all that is good, this would never happen. Its not just the there and then, but the shards of shrapnel that bury themselves for years to come and reach out in to the future.
People confuse me.

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