observed with an odd detachment. It was as though what was happening on that stage was happening to someone else. I was viewing a Hollywood thriller, and we had come to the inevitable rape scene. They were actors; I was the audience.
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I looked at my hand, and saw a smear of red.
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as the man dragged me across the stage,
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rusty blade to my neck
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or stitches in her foot
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My parents didn’t get naked
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never get to go otherwis
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I worked for a newspaper, where facts mattered and skepticism was essential, and I tried to develop the cynicism I saw in older reporters while praying no one would figure out I was a fraud who had no business being in a newsroom.
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I saw in older reporters while praying no one would figure out
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But I also relied on my memories. Others who experienced this trauma may, like the woodcutter or the wife in Rashomon, have other perspectives and other stories to tell.