Photo by °<~ Gabrielle Sinatra ~>° on Foter.com / CC BY-NC (Note: I found the graphic above at http://foter.com/ff/photo/2553065984/94d2789c72/ and simply added the words from my story – Marquessa.)
“Two people can only keep a secret if one of them is dead.”
Out of all the crazy stuff my Dominican abuela (I mean, grandmother) used to say, that was the wisest and truest thing to ever come out of her big uncensored mouth.
You see, the secret I’ve been keeping has been eating away at me. And with each passing day, the story keeps bubbling up inside of me, trying to escape.
I’ve never told anyone about what happened, at least not all of it.
But I have to get this weight off of my chest and the only way I can do it is by writing it down. If I was really smart, I wouldn’t write it down at all, especially online where people could find it. But I need to tell my story and figure out how I ended up here in the first place.
This blog is really meant for me and my eyes only. I mean, who would even care about my incoherent ramblings?
But just in case someone does stumble across this blog (and if you are reading this, I mean YOU), please remember that I’m not a bad person. I had to take Abuela’s words to heart and I did what needed to be done to save myself.
Truth be told, a little part of me hopes that you do find this blog. I mean, maybe you’ll help me piece this all together and help me see where I went wrong, though I kind of already know.
And of course, I’m writing this anonymously so I won’t tell you my real name. But you can call me “Cara”, short for “Caramel”. That was Abuela’s nickname for me because she loved the color of my skin. She also said that I was like burnt sugar with a bitter aftertaste. Back then, I never knew what she meant by that and the only time I had the nerve to ask, she had simply shrugged her shoulders and said:
“Mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo“.
Yes, the devil knows more from experience than from being the devil. Maybe Abuela saw something in me back then that I only discovered later and that I’m reconciling with now…who knows.
But I’m getting off topic. Maybe I’ll write about that later.
Right now, I need to start at the beginning and tell you how I met my abuser Dex..
Continuation: B is for “Bomb”
All Rights Reserved ©2018 Marquessa Matthews. Graphic above created with Canva.
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