Friday, May 18, 2012



 Today was the court date. Ed testified that he was sending all of these text messages out of genuine concern. The lawyers in the courtroom waiting for other cases laughed at that one. “I promise you he sounded like a fool”, says my friend A. She has come with me today. Ed also testifies that my detective called him and told him there was a restraining order in place because he was harassing me. Now the detective is helping Ed? Giving him a heads up? What’s next, going to take the stand and testify for him too? It’s too much for me to take. The detective cocked blocked me from getting a restraining order thru the police and now that I do all the work, you fucking call him? “Ms. Hunter, you should be working with your detectives in order to get a restraining order in place. There are no threats of murder and no physical violence, so the order is dissolved.” I’m not even in shock anymore. I have fought all I can fight. "A" tries to console me outside the courtroom. I flip out and tell her I just want out of the building. The bailiff comes out and tells me if anything happens to come right back to the same courtroom. He will remember who I am.

We get to the car and I apologize for being angry with A. We start bawling on each other’s shoulders. I get home and A is still crying. I’m tired of crying. I lie and tell "A" I want to go home and decompress. , and that I will go to the rape center and talk to them. After I get home I call my advocate. I’m crying because I already know how the final chapter will end in this whole fucked up story. I left a message to cancel all future appointments with the center. They will all win and there isn’t shit I can do about it. I don’t want to be in this world anymore. I don’t want to be in a world where rapists walk and victims are bullied for it. I know friends have read this story, and told me how proud they are. That I am so brave. I don’t feel brave. I feel like this is auto pilot, and I’m sick of it. I’m tired of fighting. Nothing will ever happen to any of them. I quit.

I know that what I am about to do is the most cowardly thing possible, but why the hell not? I don’t want to be in this fucked up world anymore. To my friends I truly apologize for letting you all down. I know the judge would say the determination isn’t personal. Well, neither is my suicide. I am writing this knowing that a few minutes after I write the end, I will go to my bathroom, and open every container of pain killers I had intended on taking back to the pharmacy to be destroyed instead of just flushing them down the toilet. I will also open a bottle of wine. I will then take all the pills and drink all the wine and walk out of this life. This hard life that just isn’t worth fighting anymore. I thought life was supposed to have a lot of enjoyable moments along the way too.

Strange thoughts will cross my mind. Should I clean a little first? Just so when they find my body, they won’t be discussing how I should have vacuumed more often? The bottle of wine is already open. Do I want a final meal of some sort? Or is that just more work for the coroner? Will Mr. A be my coroner? Will he know who I am? What would he think if he did? I would say I have a pretty good mixture. A handful of hydrocodone, Tylenol with codeine, Percocet, Carisoprodol, Alprazolam, and one that I’m not sure what it is. At this point it’s not like it matters. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the hero you wanted me to be. This is no one else’s fault. There was nothing A could have done to stop this and I don’t want her to blame herself in any way for this. This is the fault of a rapist, a friend who sold me out, and two detectives who wouldn’t do anything to believe me. I doubt this will change their minds. I’m sorry I just wasn’t as strong as I should have been. I hope for any future woman to never have to go thru what I have had to go thru. I sincerely wish that the system will change. That more is done to stop rapists. Just because they don’t drag you into an alley and you know who they are doesn’t mean it isn’t rape. And for what it’s worth, I believe you. I know you are telling the truth. I know you have lain in bed sobbing and shaking and wondering why God would allow this to happen. When I get up there, I will ask. But just know, I believe you.

The end.

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