Hell On Earth - Commentary by Tara Campbell

Rape. It’s poison. On my tongue. On your tongue. On their tongues. For most, it’s a taboo subject. For others-when it happens-it’s a dirty little secret that they want to shove so deep into the darkness that it can never come up again. According to some, it “doesn’t happen” or they “ask for it.” Here’s the reality. It happens. Face it.

Rapists prowl everywhere. In the darkness, the light, in shadows, abandoned parking lots, hotel rooms, bedrooms, and in secret. It could be your sister, a friend, a neighbor, or a loved one. It could be you.

Nine months ago, it was supposed to be me. Instead, it was my best friend, Leah. My other friend, Marie, was sexually assaulted. A summer night of innocence turned into a night of tears, pain, and shame. A night of Hell on Earth. For legal reasons, I can’t reveal the full story, but to make a twisted, complex story short, a playful, spirited group of friends meet a couple of boys at a gas station, exchange banter, and exchange phone numbers. Because of one stupid mistake, that night changed everything.

For months, I felt my insides dying away. Because there was nothing I could’ve done to save Leah. I felt…guilty. Guilty that I had gotten away, that I wasn’t there to save her, that I wasn’t the one who had to undergo months of extensive medical treatment and police business. All I could do was stand by and watch. That and put my own life on hold for the time being and do whatever I could to help her through it. The night it happened, I made a vow that I would be there whenever, and however, she needed me. The guilt that ate away at me the most was that within my own mind, it always whispered it should’ve been me. I was the original one he wanted. It should have been me.

I let that night break me, slowly, silently, and secretly, on the inside. Night after night was filled with darkness, tears, and terrible nightmares. I’d wake up, panicked, clammy, and disoriented, a scream lusting to rip from my throat. Instead I screamed silently inside my own head. Sometimes, though, I cried out into the darkness, wishing it would all go away. I wished we could wake up each morning and have it all be just a horrible dream. Reality check- this was a nightmare that we wouldn’t wake up from.

For so long, I hid the pain, anger, and frustration. I kept my silent tears at bay when I could, and when I couldn’t I hid my eyes behind over-sized sunglasses so no one could see. But they knew. Especially my mother. She watched me tear myself apart for weeks, before she finally told me it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t feel guilty. I had no power to stop it. She told me I needed to accept it, to deal with it, and to find an outlet. I could do one of two things: find a counselor to talk to about it, or bury it so deep inside me that it could never crawl out again.

In September I came back for junior year of college. Leaving behind Leah was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I was given a chance to escape, a chance to forget about it, and a chance to start new. She wasn’t. I felt…horrible, like part of me was being ripped in two. Once here, I couldn’t escape the nightmare, no matter how desperately I tried.

I was still dying, slowly, inside. I would skip classes, or if I stayed, I would feel like the space was closing in on me. I could be sitting in class and instantly come to tears, thinking of everything. Insomnia haunted me each night. My PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) that I developed at the age of twelve came back full force. For months, I was a wreck.

I could do nothing to save my best friend that night. I would give anything to be able to turn back time and change everything to prevent it from happening. But, I can’t. Now Leah, Marie, and I must live with that.

Everyone needs to be aware of just how much you can suffer from one mistake. Every story, every victim, every nightmare is different, but what ties it all together is this: the knowledge that it will test what you, and those close to you, are made of and see if you’re strong enough to master the physical, psychological, and emotional repercussions of living through Hell on Earth.