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Stealing Innocence, by Mikela Thompson

Dear Junior,

When I was a child of fifteen years old, you were a worldly man of twenty. To me, you were intrigue and danger–all the things my parents would hate. At the time, I was motivated only by my need to be loved, living in a family where love played second to the almighty dollar, and perhaps getting back at my parents. I guess that’s a typical teen rebellion, but I took it a step further than most.

I thought you loved me. When you touched my fifteen-year-old virgin body, I felt alive in a way I had never experienced in my sheltered existence, and like a drug, I was hooked, addicted, unable to refuse.

So when things became unbearable at home, you offered me a place to run, and I took you up on that offer. Little did I know once I was ‘yours’ that you would treat me like you owned me. There was no love in your touch any longer. Looking back, I wonder if there ever was. I think maybe I only felt what I wanted to feel, thinking the grass would be greener anywhere other than my loveless parents’ home.

The first time you hit me, I was shocked. The second time, and third, and each time after, not so much. I became numb to the physical blows, excusing your behavior in my mind each time, thinking I could somehow avoid the anger and angry blows in the future. Somehow, I did think it was my fault–not at first, but over time. You beat the fight out of me. You nearly beat the life out of me.

I was so young. You should have known better. You should have… you…

Sigh.

Then, you took care of yourself, but left me alone, days at a time, while you ate at work, played with your friends, and visited your family. I was left alone, locked in a two-room house, where I wasted each day sleeping, because it was the only way to hide from the pain. I didn’t eat, sometimes for days at a time.

Do you remember when your uncle accused me of stealing food from the freezer when he found that foil-wrapped meat under the chair? I did that. I stole it, because I was hungry. I hid it from you, because I knew if I told you, you would beat me. I also knew if I asked for food, you would beat me again, because it would make you look bad, like you couldn’t take care of me.

I remember when I wore my only pair of shoes, that had a hole in the toe of one of them, to your father’s house, and that night, even though I had asked for new shoes, you hit me, repeatedly, with the shoes because I had made you look bad in front of your father, like you couldn’t support me. I had asked you for new shoes, but you seemed to forget that you hit me when I asked, and told me that if I wanted new shoes, I should get a job and work for them.

I was only fifteen. I couldn’t get a job, and you knew that. I was just a kid!

Then, one day, after nearly a year of trying to be all you wanted me to be and failing, you had the audacity to ask me to leave. I’ll never forget the feeling of my heart hitting rock bottom while I stood in the dirt and watched you throw my clothes and shoes at me. When I asked how I was supposed to carry all of my stuff, you threw me a green laundry basket. Why I remember so clearly that it was green, I do not know.

It’s really funny the things a mind remembers. Maybe that’s why I’ve never liked the color green.

When I asked you where I was supposed to go, with tears streaming down my face, begging you to let me stay, screaming, “I gave up my entire life for you!” your response was, “I don’t give a shit what you do.”

You slammed the door in my face.

Over the years, you drifted in and out of my life, disappearing when things got too real. I let you back in once, about a year after this, but it wasn’t long before your lies and anger caught up with you, and this time, I was the one who left you.

A few years later, you came back around, promising me the moon and the stars. I lied to you then. I don’t lie, but I lied to you, because only with the lie was I strong enough to tell you no. I told you I was involved with someone, married, in love, and happy.

I wasn’t.

In fact, it would be a long before I was happy again, before I made my way back home, to me, the core of who I really am.

It took me many years to learn to give my heart fully, to trust again. Sex became nothing more than a tool for me, a means to manipulate men into getting what I wanted, only to be left feeling as though I had given away everything that meant anything to me.

You destroyed that part of me for a long, long time.

Just when life was going in the right direction, just when I began to have a foothold again, 14 years after you threw me away, you show up on my doorstep. I hadn’t heard from you in years, but suddenly, there you were. My heart raced; my pulse pounded in my ears. I could smell the beer on your breath and it made my stomach churn. I looked up into those watery red eyes and wondered what the hell I’d ever seen in you.

I knew then, in that moment, that your anger, your abuse, your degradation… none of it affected me any longer.

I was finally free.

So somewhere inside of me, I have forgiven you for hurting me. I have forgiven you for taking my virginity. I have forgiven you for the lies. I have forgiven you for beating me. I have forgiving you for tossing me away like I was nothing more than a piece of trash.

But I will never, ever forgive you in this lifetime for taking away my innocence.

I’ve let go of my need for revenge, but I have not let go of my demand for justice. When I see you now, I feel somehow justified. The universe has dealt you a horrible blow. If it’s true that we reap what we sow, that we get back multiplied that which we put out into the universe, you are experiencing what you deserve based on the things you’ve done, to me and to others.

May God forgive you for what I cannot divine in myself.

Singed,
No longer your Mikela

~~~~~~
Mikela Thompson is an avid reader and a wannabe writer, who has yet to have anything but this letter published. Quiet and shy, she hopes to venture into some online writing communities soon, and learn how to share all the emotion and passion she has inside her. This letter is her first step to claiming that part of herself.

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16 Responses to “Stealing Innocence, by Mikela Thompson”

  1. Angel says:

    A very heartfelt and powerful letter! Mikela should definitely try her hand and other writing. She should come to the forum and enter the short story contest!

  2. Wow! That was really touching. I hope Mikela comes out of her shell and starts pursuing the writing soon. Very good. Also, I’m glad she was able to get on with her life after what this person did.

  3. Rissa says:

    Oh Mikela,

    My hearts breaks for that little 15 year old girl, but rejoices for the strong woman you are now.

    Your bio is wrong. You are not a wanna be writer, this letter proves you are a writer.

  4. Yes, my dear, there you are – a writer. You wrote from the deepest trenches of your soul and you did it well. Please come and join us at the Accentuate Writer’s Forum. We are kind, helpful people who will hold your hand and help you with your literary goals.I am so sorry for the hell you experienced. Keep writing!

  5. admin says:

    Mikela, congratulations on being published and selected for the blog. This is a wonderful story of overcoming and courage. I hope you will keep writing and pursue your dreams!

    Thank you for sharing your pain with us!

    Love and stuff,
    Michy

  6. Windowshopping says:

    As you have already found, forgiveness is never for the benefit of the person who wounded you, it is a gift you allow yourself so that you can heal those wounds and overcome them to become more than you ever dreamed of being. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting or resuming association. Nor does forgiveness negate the need for justice and the restoration of balance in the universe.

    When you found true love and true happiness, you found a reason to believe in innocence again, a reason to trust again. May true love and happiness always be a part of who you are. Blessings, Love, and Light…

  7. This is a beautifully written piece. It shows all the emotions one goes through when being abused.

    I would have never guessed that this is your first published piece. You have a lot of heart and I hope that you continue to show it to others in your writing endeavors. Thank you for sharing this with us.

  8. JP Danna says:

    Dear Mikela,

    To be able to put your passion on paper like that is the sign of a burgeoning writer. Your passion held me in place as I read your words. It is real and from the heart. I’ve had abusive experiences in my life and when I got into a writing course, I found what I believe might be a hidden talent. Through compiling my old writings, I intended to write a short 500-word story that grew to 50,000 words. Keep writing. It is one of the highest methods to clarity and growth.

    With Thoughts, JP Danna

  9. Jennifer Wright says:

    Mikela,
    This was a very, very touching letter. I agree that your bio is wrong. You are not a “wannabe” writer. You are a writer.

    Jenn

  10. jckat says:

    Dear Mikela,
    Your words are strong, clear, and bring the reader right to the emotions of the moment. I have read many published authors who don’t have that grasp of the reader. I am glad you have taken the step to begin reclaiming yourself. This was a touching first step and I hope you continue to take more steps in this direction.

  11. I have goosebumps reading this. Wow, Mikela, wow. You are simply amazing, strong, and such an inspiration.

  12. Linda says:

    Brilliant and powerful.

  13. Jo Brielyn says:

    This letter was beautifully written, Mikela. Thank you for baring your soul to us through your writing. You are a writer, my dear…a very talented one. Use those emotions, experiences and your words to continue to reach others. Well done!

  14. Melanie says:

    There is nothing “wannabe” about this writer. No one but a writer could get forth the emotion and experience of such a situation with such clarity. This made me cry. I’ve been there. A beautiful letter.

  15. Morgaine says:

    The most confusing thng about abusive relationships is how one can still love another after they’ve been berated and beaten and hurt.

    I’m glad you got your letter out. I’m not ready for that yet.

  16. B Cricket says:

    There is nothing left that I can say that others haven’t already, or that you haven’t said to yourself, but on behalf of women I am proud of you, just for you. <3

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