(Published in the Daily Reporter on 8/11/1910)
is blurred every day in pain, in silence everyday ... in the water that leaks every winter night in particular. Can not be stopped, immune, facing the breeze. Not against the sun or in front of the night. The light escapes the shadows ... every time the fear, shame, rage, impotence, re-writes its history in the pillow, in the mirrors, in the smiles of others. Censorship of each absence in every nightmare ... every attempt to oblivion. In this cold that sneaks up skin crawl in the middle of that hatred which encyst in the ruined bag of bones, with increasing intensity over time.
you imagine other foot in another life, in other songs ... in the peace of others who deny its hurricanes and lacerations, a prelude to his nightmares. It has been sitting on the edge of rationality to ask for death, praying that God was not around when the heartless wrote their horror at the site of his dignity ... so many times. Just the thought makes her daughter a few years, who still need it. Who can not imagine his mother bound to the thousand and one aberration, by those who broke into his house to "make a telephone review."
tries to reinvent itself in the eyes of others, outside his own mirror, the accuser appeal and loneliness ... beyond affection, friends, books read and cultivated plants ... one, full of filth in the flesh, being a nuisance to his embarrassment, a burden on his conscience, and permanent pasture for the trouble.
been two years since its aggression, and even non-healing wounds. With the domestic who accompanied him, and who were active and passive use of the aberrated lust, nothing more was said. You can not see her eyes. Neither can nor wants to see the object of your horror so close. Although your home, it has been able to overcome the attack ... and hopes, one day, her employer do the same.
hand is not enough today, no look, or a thousand emotions ... the rain is soaking the anger and time. Two years, and yet the same time, it makes the same shadow between shame and skin. There are no words that soothe, and lies to cushion, or flowers to cool, and sunrises that promise, not forgetting to stay ... just the same clock and the same circumstances, lighting the path.
It is the scar, the shadow image, the torment, the tread, the cry, blood, disgust, nausea pointing everything. Killing hope. Trampling shame.
The old figure of blame to take for himself the whole consciousness. Today
seeks to exploit and drain all ... relieved of that burden that asphyxia and feel changed his life forever. Saying goodbye to the morgues, confirm that she is somewhere ... in order to be known sadness.
-is thirty years old, Civil Engineer, he is a hyperkinesis ... rightful inheritance from his nightmare. Walks, smokes, is not a quiet moment ... Hello, I say.
- How is BA? .... Because I'm dying of nerves and shame
is blurred every day in pain, in silence everyday ... in the water that leaks every winter night in particular. Can not be stopped, immune, facing the breeze. Not against the sun or in front of the night. The light escapes the shadows ... every time the fear, shame, rage, impotence, re-writes its history in the pillow, in the mirrors, in the smiles of others. Censorship of each absence in every nightmare ... every attempt to oblivion. In this cold that sneaks up skin crawl in the middle of that hatred which encyst in the ruined bag of bones, with increasing intensity over time.
you imagine other foot in another life, in other songs ... in the peace of others who deny its hurricanes and lacerations, a prelude to his nightmares. It has been sitting on the edge of rationality to ask for death, praying that God was not around when the heartless wrote their horror at the site of his dignity ... so many times. Just the thought makes her daughter a few years, who still need it. Who can not imagine his mother bound to the thousand and one aberration, by those who broke into his house to "make a telephone review."
tries to reinvent itself in the eyes of others, outside his own mirror, the accuser appeal and loneliness ... beyond affection, friends, books read and cultivated plants ... one, full of filth in the flesh, being a nuisance to his embarrassment, a burden on his conscience, and permanent pasture for the trouble.
been two years since its aggression, and even non-healing wounds. With the domestic who accompanied him, and who were active and passive use of the aberrated lust, nothing more was said. You can not see her eyes. Neither can nor wants to see the object of your horror so close. Although your home, it has been able to overcome the attack ... and hopes, one day, her employer do the same.
hand is not enough today, no look, or a thousand emotions ... the rain is soaking the anger and time. Two years, and yet the same time, it makes the same shadow between shame and skin. There are no words that soothe, and lies to cushion, or flowers to cool, and sunrises that promise, not forgetting to stay ... just the same clock and the same circumstances, lighting the path.
It is the scar, the shadow image, the torment, the tread, the cry, blood, disgust, nausea pointing everything. Killing hope. Trampling shame.
The old figure of blame to take for himself the whole consciousness. Today
seeks to exploit and drain all ... relieved of that burden that asphyxia and feel changed his life forever. Saying goodbye to the morgues, confirm that she is somewhere ... in order to be known sadness.
-is thirty years old, Civil Engineer, he is a hyperkinesis ... rightful inheritance from his nightmare. Walks, smokes, is not a quiet moment ... Hello, I say.
- How is BA? .... Because I'm dying of nerves and shame
- Why? There is no reason for shame. Calm down, it can not be today, we do later. The idea might not feel bad
- Give me, please, one minute ... a little water and tell him this that I have long choked
- I want, I say
- Just a victim of an assault two years ago I wanted to talk with you, I even sent an email requesting an interview ... but I did not dare. I was very wrong. I had done irreversible damage, and wanted to vent ... drain, I warn others to beware hell. But you skipped town. Stopped publishing his interviews. Now that I've seen that back, I was filled with "courage and determination this time, I wrote and here I am. Two years ago, more or less, on a Friday as three in the afternoon I was at home, because I took the afternoon to order some things in the company of my daughter, then two years, and a lady who helped me with chores around the house, rang the bell and some men in uniforms of a telephone company asked me to check the lines by "a failure in the industry." Yo, I'm more confident that no, I said to Mrs. Rosa to accompany them to review the room and the room is where I have the telephones. The girl was asleep in my bed, and I in the dining table, working. At the time I called Ms. Rosa, who had plenty of time helping me, to be the fourth he had a problem and I wanted to make a question. I went to the room where my daughter was also asleep, and pigs that posed as technicians, had her and my daughter at gunpoint. "Find me the money and jewels," I said. What I'm going to have jewels?, I said. Do not see what we live modestly! I picked out a chain that my grandmother had given me in baptism, I took the class ring, the fancy earrings and a bracelet she had sent to make garments with the gold broken .... "And you think that this thing we're going to take this arriesgón ???"," We're going looking dog you have saved, or you will break "because I said ... there is nothing else I said. Do what you want, "take everything, but I will hurt you, they begged.
- And the girl?
- Thank God I was asleep. Unaware of what was happening ...
- What else did?
- tore the house. They pulled out the drawers. It took a bottle of sangria in her fridge, as we constantly threatened to rape my daughter. I told them I gave them what they wanted but I did not touch the girl. Then one of the pigs told the partner ... Have you seen a boss having sex with her when cachifa ???... I heard them, I closed my eyes and I prayed to God, thinking that if that was the sacrifice I had to do to save my daughter, she was willing to indulge their aberrations in me ... the thought that they could sexually assault me \u200b\u200bparalyzed me. We asked Ms. Rosa and me naked. She refused crying and fell to beating the top, insulting. He hit him with the butt of the gun to his head and broke it. I thought then, in panic, how to save time. I took her to the bathroom, I put a little hydrogen peroxide and half cured. When we got back the guys were worse. "Or they strip for good, or were ripped out those rags-to-end e coñazo !!!"... us said. We undressed, in the midst of the greatest shame and humiliation I felt in my life. We were asked to hug, kiss, rub bodies. We did so and Mrs. Rosa whispered to me, crying, going to kill us ... sure, they'll kill you!
- What were they doing in the meantime?
- We watched. Two heartless pigs watching a disgusting lust. They asked us then we kissed. Us to make oral sex while they are self-indulged. BA was an eternity. They excited ... you took the lady to the other room and raped her, sodomized her, beat her ... and the other made me oral sex, saying ... "Bitch, I know good girl, because if you hurt me kill the carajitos first and then I'll kill you" ... let me quench in all its nastiness, and began to vomit uncontrollably. Many times .... Think that saved us because they were. I called the Pink Lady, and I wanted to talk ... between crying and degenerate fluids, his face was heartbreaking testimony of an attack you can imagine. Taking his clothes with great difficulty, got into the bathroom and took a long time there. I did the same. Although this time in no time I felt the water would wash me. I left the bathroom, and embraced my daughter so hard that I woke her up ... after a while, Mrs. Rosa came into my room with his suitcase and told me ... I'm leaving. Those guys kill me. What do I tell my husband? How do I see the faces of my children? ... When I went to answer, looked at me and said, never mind not to remember ... never turned around and left. Most have never seen again. He did not even get the money due to him.
- Are you married?
- Divorced
- Did you report the case?
- No. For what ... if none of the allegations of theft and assault cases that have made dozens of victims of insecurity which we live and I know, have been resolved. In this country, exposing a waste of time!
- Did you tell anyone?
- No one .... I swear by my daughter, who is the first time that story. Then I tried to forget Licensed to erase from my memory ... but it is there, marked indelibly impressed every hour tormenting
- Why do not seek specialist help ... even I have a sister who is a psychologist and counselor maybe sex can help ..
- No, no one to heal me this pain. No one who cleared my memory of this tragedy. No ray lasser can with this scar ... I appreciate the help, but all I think I can do is to be known, so that others take the forecasts that I did not take.
- How you have fun?
- That's over for me. My daughter is only oasis. Freshness. Dawn.
- You are very young, I say, at some point need to rebuild your life. While things are still fresh, some time will pass. As the scars, I add, that while they remain there ... someday stop hurting.
- only wish I graduate. But I am appalled that a man near me. Disgusts me privacy. I loathe any touch other than my daughter or my parents
- Why do not you talk to your parents, you honest with them?
- My parents are from the old Roman, and do not understand. I think that we only end up with their lives. No, me and the damage is done and is irreversible. I have no right to harm anyone else with it ... let alone people I love so much, and in the twilight of their lives does not deserve that suffering.
- Do not have any friends nearby?
- A cousin, who told him everything ... but this, no!
- Can not you felt strange?
- Yeah ... but she blames my divorce
- What about your ex-husband?
- Making your life. Slope of the girl. But with a more or less formal with me. After a divorce, things never the same again, however much effort you make
- Do I understand you gave up to live as befits a woman of your age?
- For now, yes. Imagine, become a lesbian even for a few moments, "bitch" of an animal by an unscrupulous later.
- I understand your pain, your anger ... I do not understand is that you stay in it, atormentándote with his memory. Do not want to get out of that hole ... okay, I got them, but leave up to you
- Bachelor takes a lot ... is not easy. I've even thought about suicide, only my daughter from doing so. I do not respect. I do not want. I've been marked forever. There is no way to forget. Or recover. I have to be afraid of me on the street. From when the bell rings at home. I live in a constant anxiety when I'll be waiting to be attacked again. I messed up your confidence, personal esteem ... even religious belief. Now I doubt. Not now I think. Now suspicious. To me it is true that the good outweighs the bad. I know it is not so!
- How do you feel now?
- A deep vacuum. These guys not only ripped me dignity, they took my life. I have not ceased to feel dirty ... and even guilty!. Sometimes I think I've been struggling, let me kill him ... which is certainly much better than this ordeal alive. I wake up at night sweating mass. Shaking. Then I shower. Do not know how many times I dreamed about this scene subjected to all kinds of sexual abuse. Nothing arouses my emotions. I am overcome with deep sadness. I drag my self-esteem. Distrust around the world. I am appalled that someone do me any affection. I will face my daughter, and I die of shame ... I had never cursed, but at that rate, the curse every day of my life!
- Why did you come to tell if you have not done with anyone until now?
- Because I always read the cases presented. Observed the respect and seriousness with which the issue. Non-judgmental. And many people who read it and follow it, because I know. I myself away The Reporter on Tuesday, because on Wednesday, "flies" ... so if you can publish it as a lesson, and many make provisions against this uncertainty that we knock down and that nobody does anything. Politicians, just promises. But nobody put the bell the cat. Every day we are worse. And in my case it shows that neither at home one can be sure. In order to look in my mirror and see how in an hour you can destroy a life forever. Not only do you remove the prenditas memory of the family, which already hurts ... if not, being raped, they attack us ... and over, we should be happy because they killed us. So I came. Although, for you see, I got a thing that did not count. After this conversation ... I feel I have eased the burden
I hear in through their pain, I stop and try to decipher his eyes the rain and the possibility of forgetting. That anger at his young age, Wills writes in his books and lapidary in his diary. In this huge puddle, muddy, confused, in which two thugs turned their life. In that permanent damage to the site of his affection, absurd, right ... which makes us wonder all the time ... what have we become?.
fumbled in his anger, his hatred, the executioner of his laughter and feel that if he tries, there is room for love ... and not the ode morose, mournful, wander ... trying to justify the loneliness and burial. It is possible to rediscover hope. Replant blue on the calendar.
Sin embargo, cuando miro adentro, cuando me permite descorrer alguna ventana y me aproximo a su herida aún latente, encuentro allí solo pasajeros del miedo, tripulantes del odio, militantes de la vergüenza, fanáticos del dolor… sembrando los puertos, que recibirán su otoño.
I hear in through their pain, I stop and try to decipher his eyes the rain and the possibility of forgetting. That anger at his young age, Wills writes in his books and lapidary in his diary. In this huge puddle, muddy, confused, in which two thugs turned their life. In that permanent damage to the site of his affection, absurd, right ... which makes us wonder all the time ... what have we become?.
fumbled in his anger, his hatred, the executioner of his laughter and feel that if he tries, there is room for love ... and not the ode morose, mournful, wander ... trying to justify the loneliness and burial. It is possible to rediscover hope. Replant blue on the calendar.
Sin embargo, cuando miro adentro, cuando me permite descorrer alguna ventana y me aproximo a su herida aún latente, encuentro allí solo pasajeros del miedo, tripulantes del odio, militantes de la vergüenza, fanáticos del dolor… sembrando los puertos, que recibirán su otoño.
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