I’ve had a friend of mine come to stay for a couple of days. K has been a loyal friend since we teamed up at secondary school, age 11. I love her to bits for her unique outlook on life, her loyalty, her constance, and her perpetual strong spirit.
We had a lovely afternoon on Saturday. We went to the cinema to watch the film of a book she’s read. We bought ice-cream and laughed and went to see the animals at the pet shop and wandered round the local travel agency (mainly researching flights to the US. Hehe). We watched our film, and started the walk up to the bus stop together in the dark.
For some reason, I was suffering from hyper-vigilance. I was staring around me in the dark to make sure my ex was not hiding in the shadows. I was scanning every male face for violent intent. I was shaking, and my hands clenched as a group of boys wandered across the road to the other side. On the side of the road we were on, a group of people started to file out of the employees’ exit, their shift finished for the day. The boys across the road were standing still, yelling to each other and staring.
I couldn’t contain my panic. I practically started running. K caught up with me and subdued my tears, stopped me from panicking as badly. She talked to me and brought me back to the real world.
She told me that I am not a victim. She said that I shouldn’t be defined by what he did. She also said that I should take this to the police, but I still don’t know how that would pan out.
The important thing is that K believes I am not nothing. She knows that what happened to me was the fault of one cruel man alone, and that to her, I am still her friend. The same girl she knew when she was eleven.
I am so grateful to her for being there for me, but more grateful for her reminding me that I am a person who deserves love. A person who deserves happiness, and deserves friends.
Take that, dark passenger. Call me a bitch, a slut and a whore all you want, but K thinks I am not. And I believe her.