A woman confronts memories of abuse:
When I was little, I thought the word was ‘rake.’ I imagined a man standing over a woman, in a pile of leaves. He dragged a rake over her naked body. I imagined it happening in my own back yard. Now, as an adult, I’m not sure that this image is entirely incorrect.
How it begins: I am 18. I am 6 hours from home. I am in a relationship with my childhood best friend. I am nervous.
“How to Tell a True Story.” — Caedra Scott-Flaherty, The Rumpus