That girl, she’s gone now.
She was numb, but felt everything.
How is that possible?
Her body wasn’t hers—not after the first or second time. The third, it was gone, almost entirely. She lived in it. That was all.
A resident in a body she no longer wanted.
But it didn’t have to end there.
The very sex that wrought her pain, one amongst them brought her back.
She began to feel again.
She began to love again.
She began to forgive.
She began to grow — as a person, as a woman, as a mother, and later, as a partner.
It doesn’t make her weak that a man brought her back.
It doesn’t make her less of a feminist, or less of a woman, even.
It makes her human.
It makes her real.
It makes her, her.
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