in about 2 weeks, marks the anniversary of when i was assaulted. i was 13 years old when i started seeing this boy who was 17 at the time. he told me he loved me and at 13 i thought i knew what love was. summer came and went and this boy and i lost touch. 8th grade came around and i was walking home from school and i saw him. i decided to approach him and say hello. we we walked a block or two before we started arguing and i stepped in front of him and faced him. we continued to argue and in an instant my whole world fell to peices. he had grabbed me by the throat and punched me in the face and broke my nose. stunned i started to cry and had fallen to the ground. the bastard ran away and i couldnt find him. in my search i ran into my friend who i told the whole incident too. i made her promise not to tell anyone. i ran home and put ice on my face. my mom was to be home soon to pick me up for an after school activity and i lied and told her i had gotten hit in the face with a backpack at school. she brought me to the hospital where again i was questioned about the events that led up to my injury and again i lied right to the doctors face. after the xray and the confirmation my nose was broken i waited for my mom to finish the paper work so i could go home. the next thing i knew my father had ran into the room and told my mother that i was lying and i had gotten punched in the face. by a boy.(my friend told her older sister who told her mother who called my father) i saw both my mother and father cry. pleading for me to tell them why. then my mom told the doctor what had really happend and the word must have spread throught the er because when i had gotten dressed and was on my way out, every pair of eyes was on me. women shook their heads and wispers were heard. next my mother took me to the police station. i was so scared i was shaking and crying. they took pictures of my injurys. i had hand marks on my neck from where he grabbed me. i had the formation of 2 back eyes and the right side of my face was swollen. i didnt go to school for a few days but when i did everyone by then knew and there was more stares and wispering. a few bold people came up and asked what happend. i was not allowed to answer. he was suspended and had community service. there was several court dates and i wasnt allowed, by order of my parents, to attend. plenty of therapy followed and i had broken my parents hearts.
for a while i would say that the event had no impact on me. i shoved it so far down i would almost forget. but it slowly ate away at me and i began to feel the effects. i started cutting myself and not eatting. i was self destructive. not caring about grades and dating boys who were no good to or for me, slowly over time i began to heal and with the help of my amazing parents, my supportive friends and loving boyfriend ive been on my way to recovery.
3 years ago. feels like more. the memories are vivid but nothing like the memory of the way the dry crusted blood smelled. in this picture there are real tears. it took alot for me to face this and i saw myself in my bathroom mirror as i did 3 years ago. crying with crusted blood on my face and lips.
photography has been key in my healing process. it has helped me deal with things i couldnt otherwise. i would have kept everything bottled up and who knows where i would be now without it.