How did I know the thunder was inevitable? Because lightning struck twice on the same spot where I was bruised.
Guess what? I was still healing; storming through life quietly, hoping I’d find some luck. Some days optimistic, other days defeated to the soul. The pain was like a cluster in my heart, made me live in fear. I wanted to be better but I didn’t care much if it happened, my emotions were too chaotic I doubted if anyone could truly lay them to rest. I was in recovery with undefined progress. Some days, the feeling was horrid; my heart racing away from my chest, with the earth rising to my neck and damning voices drowning me in scary memories. The doctor said I had PTSD.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw my brother getting shot and I getting raped over and over again by the man who murdered him. The poor boy was just protecting me. Tell me, how do I part with such memory? It always feels like though I brought him to his death. I’d forced him to walk me to the grocery store that night.
I woke up in the hospital hours later and the last thing I remembered was my predator knocking me out with the grip of his 5mm pistol. Oh! That was after he shoved himself into me in the alleyway of Taco Street. He dragged me into that corner over my younger brother’s body. His innocent blood washing the streets off its evil. I couldn’t fight off his massively built body so I scarred his face with my pendant, deeply. He was never caught, but I never forgot the tattoo on his wrist; it was that of a pretty girl, one who must mean something to him.
We made the headlines. Everyone talked about the 17-year old that was raped and his 15-year-old brother that was murdered in cold blood. Our lives stopped; mother and I. We had to move. I met countless therapists until I could get myself to talk about it. So many sleepless nights and random conversations with self, I finally gave healing a chance, a deserving guy too.
I met his family today and amongst them was the man who raped me. Sitting pretty in a corner, with everyone dying to get his attention. He is the Mayor. I bet he couldn’t recognise me, but how can I forget? Same tattoo and the evident scar. He even made a story for it, he got it trying to protect his daughter from rapists 8 years ago. His words,
“I didn’t mind dying that night, I just needed to protect my daughter. We should be doing more to protect our community; our children, and culture. Black lives matter.” His wife kissed him on the cheek afterwards, his son and daughter joined in the embrace too. The small crowd applauding.
Only if they knew who he was, who he truly is. He tore me open again, bleeding all over my soul. The thunder is inevitable, I will strike. I will deliver a justice the law never gave me. I am meeting him when the party is over, and I swear on my brother’s grave, I will stick this icebreaker into his neck and watch him growl as he stares into the eyes of the same girl he raped. A girl young enough to be his daughter. I don’t care if he is the Mayor or my boyfriend’s father.
I am Thunder.