What To Do?

It's night and I am outside, leaning up against this car in my expensive blue jeans, waiting for my parents to come out of the store. The store is bustling and dozens of people are pushing their way out of the double doors every minute. I look at them and they all seem so 'together' so happy and without a care. I envy them. None of them are like me.

No one would ever suspect that not long ago, I allowed myself to get raped and that it happened repeatedly. They would think I was better than that. They would believe I should have known what to do, a girl like me who is smart, strong, and pretty with a sassy attitude.

I imagine telling my parents what happened when they come out of the store. I imagine the shock and disgust that would show on their faces as they stood in front of those double doors with so many people streaming by, the disappointment they would feel that I had not lived up to their standards. It would ruin their organized little world. They would be irritated and embarrassed that it might get out and unsure how to deal with this new shock. The look on their faces alone would be devastating to me. I decided that as much as this secret writhed within me and consumed my whole world, I would not tell them. It would be easier that way.