Wounded by Ben Burgess Jr

Author:Ben Burgess Jr.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Urban Books
Published: 2019-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

Hi, My Name Is Samantha

Sasha did some research the next day after I confided in her. The following week, we went to the next scheduled rape survivors’ meeting. The meetings were held in Manhattan on 122nd Street. The first couple of meetings, I sat there with Sasha and listened to everyone talk. I didn’t have the courage to say anything. Listening to their stories always got me worked up emotionally. Their stories made me think of my own experiences. I was angry at my mother, angry at the men who raped me. Angry that I was too weak and powerless to stop it from happening. Lastly, I was sad that I had to go through that bullshit.

There were people of all ages, races, and social backgrounds at the meeting. It surprised me when a couple of straight men explained their painful experiences of being raped. I found comfort in hearing and knowing that other people went through similar emotions and experiences as I. The information at the meetings made me think and reflect on my past a lot. I was dealing with my own issues better, and my nightmares weren’t as severe as they had been in the past.

At the sixth meeting, the counselor, Dr. John Andrews, asked me if I would like to share with the group.

“Samantha, you’ve been a part of this group for a while now, coming to meetings and hearing other members sharing their stories. Would you care to share your story with the rest of the group? Talking about it helps us all to heal,” he said, pushing his glasses up over the bridge of his nose.

“Not a fucking chance,” I said.

“Sam!” Sasha protested.

I turned to her. “I’ll listen to everyone else’s story, but there is no way in hell I’m going to air my business out to a bunch of strangers. Fuck, no.”

Some of the people in the group looked offended by what I said, but I didn’t give a shit. A very selective few knew about my past, and that was just fine with me.

“Samantha, it’s therapeutic to everyone if we all share with the group. It helps us all to see that we’re not alone and helps us develop a stronger support system for one another.”

“Nope. It’s not happening.” I stood up. “This shit isn’t for me,” I said.

I wanted to get up and run the fuck out, but Sasha held my hand, rubbed it, looked me in the eyes, and gently guided me back down to my seat. “Sam, don’t run away. Talk to them. Everything is going to be okay. I’m right here with you,” she said.

I sighed.

“Hi, everyone. My name is Samantha Miller, and I . . . I . . . I can’t do this.”

I attempted to get up to leave again, but Sasha held on to me and pulled me back down to my seat again.

“It’s okay. Just start off slow. They’ve all been through the same things you’ve been through or worse,” Sasha whispered to me.

“Again, welcome, Samantha.

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