Disheveled Innocence

I don't know how long I was lying there before I moved. I had no clue whether it was safe to get up or not. I had no clue whether they were really gone or not. I was afraid to do anything. However, I suddenly realized that it might be more dangerous justing lying there in case they came back.

It hurt to move, but I forced myself onto my knees, then slowly back onto my feet again. I looked down at my clothes — now dirty, disheveled, and torn in a place or two. I knew I would have bruises tomorrow. I felt confused and violated. I gathered my things that were scattered on the ground, brushed the dirt off as best I could with trembling hands, and started walking towards home.

No matter if I told the truth or a lie, I knew I would somehow be blamed for what they did to me.
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NOTE: True story, but several years ago. Still doing some healing, I guess, and thought it would help to write about it.

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