The High Road

𝟘.𝟘.𝟙

Warning: mention of Sexual assault, rape, victim blame, blood, suicide, death

It's been a whole day since the two last talked, Yasmine skipped the lil Halloween party the group had last night, in attempt to avoid Sam and the situation all together. Thus leading her to find out that he left for the day to go hunting with his brother or something like that.

Leaving her to be alone for the day, it was only two in the afternoon, at this time some people; including herself would be stuck in class. Mindlessly listening to a useless and mind consuming lecture that they was force to take but instead, she skipped it, just like everyone else. Instead, she roamed the halls.

She had ear buds in but no music, she wanted to have the fantasy that she was listening to something so no one would bother her but in reality, she just wanted to finally match the words to mouths that always manage to move once she was in the presence of her peers.

Without Sam by her side, she was naked to the judgment, the criticism, the rumors, and the insults that were thrown at her like knives as she walked, her lips like a flat lined heartbeat, cracked so bad that she could practically taste the bitter iron it left behind.

All eyes were on her as she quick stepped down the dorm halls, lips began to chatter but no sound was heard, there was only whispers. Whispers resembling the sound of crickets, she knew she was their subject of speaking but couldn't hear the weapons of their words. But she could imagine it, without hearing it she knew exactly what they would say, its what they always talked about.

She's the slut of the school, the eye candy, the damaged goods with no backbone and nothing to show for, the runt of her family- riding on her brother's back through success.

The whore who doesn't smile.

The whore with a resting bitch face that let her body speak for herself.

How she never fails to wear the most expensive, the most revealing piece of clothing that clings onto her body for dear life. It's like she's asking for it.

She asking for attention, she's asking for the lustful looks, the non-consenting touches, the ass grabs, the unwanted neck kisses. . . the rape. She asked for that, because she's a attention whore.

A slut.

Damaged goods.

That's what they saw, that's what they talk about, that's what always pops in their heads once they see her. Every time. The useless whore that open her legs for everyone and everything because she knows her worth. She's nothing and she knows it. She's not smart, she cheated to get here, she doesn't have any special talents, unless you count the talents she has in bed.

She's a prostitute. A girl that dick rides her way to a 'meaningful life.' Don't like it? Don't like what you're hearing Yasmine?

Well that's the truth, that's reality. That's how society thinks, that's how they think. They judge you, blame you for the actions of your attackers. They plant you as the spark to your own tragedy.

They victim blame you, slut shame you, weaponize you until you're nothing, until you believe that you're nothing. Until you finally began to think that you deserve everything society throws at you because you know your worth and know what you were put on earth for.