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“Mireya…”

A long breath escapes her lips. “I don’t remember his face, I don’t remember anything about him. I remember the feeling, the incomprehension and the distraught it made me go through.” She smiles sadly before opening her eyes and looks at the vast sea outside. “I asked myself for so long, what if I just knew him from before, what if he was a neighbor, a teacher, or even the man who would leave the journals in front of our door. What if I smiled too long and he thought it was an invitation. What if my dad thought it was a good way of punishing me because I ruined mom, because I looked too much like her and all he ever did to her was hurt her. What if everything was just my fault…”

For a second I forget how to breathe. There are too many things I want to say.

No, you were twelve. You were a child. You did nothing.

But she keeps going before I can get a single word out.

“Do you think I should’ve screamed? Because I did. I hear it a lot in every rape cases I’ve studied or heard of. She should’ve screamed, she should’ve fought, she should’ve said no and run. What if I tried, what if every victim tried but it never worked. What if it’s not our fault ? All I can think of is that, if I wasn’t so easy to hurt, I wouldn’t be like this now.”

Something twists painfully in my chest, because she’s asking me somehow, if she was worth the protection. “It was never your fault…”

A faint smile lifts her mouth as she shakes her head. “It shouldn’t feel like it, but when it happens again… and again… and again. It seems like it’s mine.”

“No it wasn’t. Remember Philomela? Do you think what happened to her was her fault?”

She looks up at me confused, wet blue eyes that feel so … so sad, and then she replies, “She was a victim. But what if I still can’t forgive myself for being one?”

“Look at me. Look at me, Reya…” I say, and she does. “You. Are. A. Victim and it was never your fault.”

That’s when I see the tears, falling down like a waterfall on her cheeks before she buries her head in my chest.

“You keep looking for the thing you did wrong, because you were a child. Children always look at themselves first,” I whisper as I brush my thumb over her tears. “But I need you to understand that the only person who should carry guilt for this, is the person who caused the harm.”

I’ve seen her angry, I’ve seen her scared, I’ve seen her break, but now, she’s vulnerable. She’s letting me see parts of herself she’s spent years trying to hate. And I hate how she learned to apologize for hurting. You can’t take someone’s pain away by pretending it never existed, all you can do is sit beside them while they finally let it out.

That’s all I’m going to do.

“Repeat it, Mireya. It was never your fault.”

“It was never my fault…” She repeats it again and again.

“It’s okay…it’s okay… I’m with you now.”

I want to find the person who did this to her, fight him and destroy any drops of life he has in him. But sitting here, watching her wipe her tears softly, I understand that tonight, staying is the fight. She spent so much of her life being someone’s shelter that she never realized she deserved one too.

I’ll be that for her. I promise I’ll be.

78

Mireya

Past

Play - Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

Bright and small creature

After my mother died, the people around me started telling me how strong I was. Funny because I didn’t feel like that at all. I felt as if I was on the verge of breaking.

It’s strange to hear that everywhere; at school, from teachers, from my friends, from people at local stores; that I’m strong. It’s as if I’d decided to be that way. As if I’d woken up and convinced myself that I could handle more than others. But no one asked me if I wanted to be that way or if I was tired.

They saw the girl who kept going to school, who wasn’t sleeping anymore but still had the strength to make meals for her little brother when her dad was working too much or drinking too much. The girl who had no bruises, no scars, because her sleeves were long enough. And they called that courage.

I got home a little later than planned today because I spent some time with Hayzel and Ethan. She had to leave before us to help Edna make dinner.

I didn’t stay too long after that, I came back home after Ethan left me a small plastic bag that sat inside my pencil case in my backpack and cooked dinner. Milo had eaten, the cleaning was done, and finally, I could just sit back and relax without having to pretend I was okay.