{"id":379631,"date":"2012-11-08T16:39:00","date_gmt":"2012-11-08T16:39:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2012\/11\/08\/the-scent-of-rape-a-digging-for-the-light-excerpt\/"},"modified":"2012-11-08T16:39:00","modified_gmt":"2012-11-08T16:39:00","slug":"the-scent-of-rape-a-digging-for-the-light-excerpt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2012\/11\/08\/the-scent-of-rape-a-digging-for-the-light-excerpt\/","title":{"rendered":"The Scent of Rape, A Digging for the Light Excerpt"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/p>\n
I recently wrote <\/span><\/span>(Not) God\u2019s Plan, God\u2019s Will, or Divine Intervention<\/span><\/a> <\/span>in response to Richard Mourdock\u2019s statement that pregnancy from rape was part of God\u2019s plan.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I talk about the rape in Digging for the Light<\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Below is an excerpt from that work, which is looking for an agent and a publishing home\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Pass it along. <\/span><\/span>J<\/span><\/span><\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

* * *<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I had a promising future ahead of me.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

My grades in school were well above average.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I was liked by my peers, by adults, and was, basically, a well-rounded teenager.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

One night when I was sixteen, I went to a bar with a friend of mine.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

We shouldn\u2019t have been there\u2014but we were.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

A handsome, older male spent time talking to me and later asked me to go for a walk.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

The university was across the street, along with a breathtaking garden area where he proceeded to rape me.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t a violent rape, because I didn\u2019t fight or struggle. It happened so fast.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I remember him saying, \u201cOh, man, you\u2019re a virgin\u2026I told myself I\u2019d never do that again.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I went back to the bar and straight to the bathroom.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I was scared numb by the bloodstains that spattered the back of my sundress\u2014a white one with petite, pink and pastel-yellow flowers.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

My favorite white dress with the sweetest, matching bolero jacket.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

The blood, which had also dripped onto my thighs and created spatter marks down my legs, had already started to crust.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I had no idea what to do. <\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

At home I stood in the shower for what felt like forever.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I scrubbed and scrubbed my body.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I shaved the hair around my genital area and scrubbed even harder.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I felt so dirty.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

And the harder I scrubbed the dirtier I felt.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

* * *<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

My father and I had always seemed to be at odds, but that night I saw how much he loved me.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

As it was, my mom, who was my confidant, was out of town. I had no choice but to talk to my dad.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t recall how the conversation began, but I do remember sitting on a stair step.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

After finding out I\u2019d gone to a bar, my dad flatly told me people my age shouldn\u2019t frequent such places, that something bad could happen.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

When I replied, \u201cI think it already did,\u201d followed by an explanation, my dad was furious. He wanted to go back to the bar and confront this young man, but we never did.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t sure if I could point him out, but I insisted I wouldn\u2019t recognize him if I saw him face-to-face.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know why I was so adamant.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I was probably afraid.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Of myself.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m guessing I believed the whole incident was my fault<\/span>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I<\/span><\/i> was the one who was in the wrong place.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

I <\/span><\/i>must have done something to deserve the trouble I\u2019d gotten myself into.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Everything was always my fault<\/span><\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Something was wrong with me<\/span>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

So I thought. <\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Dad and I never spoke of it<\/span> again.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

Forget about it<\/span>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

What\u2019s done is done.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

That was the message. And that\u2019s what I tried to do.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

My mom didn\u2019t know until years later.<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

But <\/span><\/span><\/i>it<\/span> stalked me: I couldn\u2019t see <\/span><\/i>it<\/span>, and I didn\u2019t know what <\/span><\/i>it<\/span> was, but I could smell <\/span><\/i>it\u2014<\/i><\/span>like <\/span>a tail-flicking, ears-pointed, hoof-stomping deer.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

* * *<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
<\/span>All Rights Reserved<\/o:p><\/span><\/span><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I recently wrote (Not) God\u2019s Plan, God\u2019s Will, or Divine Intervention in response to Richard Mourdock\u2019s statement that pregnancy from rape was part of God\u2019s plan. I talk about the rape in Digging for the Light. Below is an excerpt from that work, which is looking for an agent and a publishing home\u2026 Pass it […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[8,325,327,328,284,650,19,329,651,54,458,333,652,69],"class_list":["post-379631","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-annah-elizabeth","tag-bill-clegg","tag-digging-for-the-light","tag-excerpts","tag-fear","tag-guilt","tag-inspiration","tag-laurie-fox","tag-lies-rape-victims-tell-themselves","tag-loss-and-healing","tag-rape","tag-sally-wofford-girand","tag-shame","tag-the-five-facets"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379631","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=379631"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379631\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=379631"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=379631"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=379631"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}