Twelve years ago today I was raped by the man who murdered my mother. At one point during the rape he choked me until I went unconcious. If he hadn't let up after I passed out, I would have died. It's almost frightening to look back now on that moment alone, when I couldn't breath and I was clawing at his face, throwing mud into his eyes, and then pretending to have passed out before I finally did, to think that I may have very well not have woken up from that.


/venting