This story is dedicated to you if you have ever been abused by someone bigger, stronger, and seemingly more powerful than you. You are not alone. You are infinitely precious. And the trauma you endured is not your fault. Know that you are so loved. And whatever trauma you have been through – it does NOT define you. You are a beautiful rose, a lovely lily, a most precious gem.
Rated M for Mature. This story deals with some difficult topics and involves some graphic situations.
The next week passed more quickly than Stasia had anticipated. She was alerted by her attorney that Eun had been released from jail pending the trial which didn’t appear to be starting very soon. She was nervous about going to work. Part of her was terrified he would show up at the school. She’d reported the situation to her principal, and security was made aware. Yoongi had doubled her personal security detail. She now had two bodyguards following her around. One stayed outside the school keeping an eye out for trouble. The other sat with her in her classroom. Her students believed he was a college student observing her for the semester.
A week after Yoongi’s birthday, her doctor called Stasia with the last of her test results. Everything had come back negative. She appeared to be in the clear. No lifelong consequences of the rape. Except the damage to her person, her heart, and her soul. And to her memory.
Now, she could move on and begin to deal with those things. She realized that she had been holding her breath for three weeks as she’d waited for all the test results to come back. It didn’t make any sense to her, but once the elation of relief had worn off, she fell into a depression. Because now she had to deal with all the natural consequences that she couldn’t deny or avoid anymore.
She had been completely violated by a man she had once trusted. Her innocence shattered; her trust destroyed. She would wake up in the middle of the night sometimes in a cold sweat as she relived the trauma in her nightmares. It seemed that in those stultifying dreams, she was always desperately seeking for Yoongi to come rescue her, but he never did. And so she experienced the trauma repeatedly. With little relief.
After a few days, Yoongi began to notice the toll the abuse was still taking on her. Stasia had dark circles under her eyes, and she was listless. She was spending her nights lying on Julieta’s couch with every light on in the living room. She also left the TV running hoping the constant chatter would infiltrate her dreams and keep Eun and his abuse at bay. Truthfully, she was barely sleeping.
She wasn’t eating much either. Her appetite had fled. Her zest for life had been replaced by listlessness. She had no desire to get up off that couch when the morning sun peeked through the windows to greet her. What was that sun so happy about that it kept shining? Life was a mess. A sad, lonely, painful mess.
If she hadn’t had Yoongi, Julieta, and Tia, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. The notion of harming herself to put an end to her misery had crossed her mind several times. She finally admitted as much to Yoongi one night.
He had come to see her on a Thursday evening when Jin and Tae had taken the sisters out to dinner. Yoongi had meant to ask Stasia to go with them all, but he’d taken one look at her and known something was very wrong, so he’d opted to stay with her and see if he could get her to talk it out.
After the two couples had walked out the door, Yoongi turned towards Stasia.
“Come,” he reached his hand out to her. She slid her fingers along his, letting his hand engulf her own. He led her to the couch. She glanced down at it. She felt like she lived on that couch. Yoongi sat down and pulled on her hand.
“Come. Sit on my lap.” He knew she always felt safe here.
She released his hand and sat down on his lap, resting her feet on the couch next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes. Then she took a deep breath.
“Stasia, what’s going on?” Yoongi’s voice was like thick cream, spreading out along her nerves like a comforting blanket.
She knew she’d never get tired of that voice. She wanted to fall into it and lose herself there. At night, she would try to conjure it up when she felt terrified. She buried her face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. Her breath teased his skin as she mumbled her response against his throat.
“I’ve been thinking about killing myself.”
Yoongi wanted to shout, “No!” But he was more temperate than that. Instead, he asked, “Why?”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He shook his head.
“So you don’t think if you were treated the way I was that you would struggle with these thoughts?”
“I didn’t say that, Stasia. But I think these are not your thoughts.”
“What?” she sat, uncomprehending, staring at him.
“Let me ask you a question. Before Eun raped you, or let’s go back further, before you ever met Eun, did you ever contemplate suicide?”
She nodded. “You know I did.”
“Why did you?”
“Because I had no friends. I was being bullied, and I was alone.”
“You contemplated suicide because those girls put that stupid idea into your head. It wasn’t your idea. Someone whispered those words to you, and you let them take root in your heart. If you hadn’t eventually rooted them out, they would have grown into a strong tree, and you might not be here today.
“But you recognized at some point that those words were wrong. They were a lie. And you kicked them out. You’d stopped listening to those voices. You were no longer in agreement with them. So they failed to have any power over you anymore. Do you remember what you started believing that stopped you from believing those lies?”
She nodded. “It was your song. It was your words. You called me a masterpiece, a work of art.”
“Did you begin to believe that about yourself?”
She narrowed her eyes as she focused on some point in the distance. She’d never quite thought about it like that. But it was true. She had believed Yoongi’s words. She had at least believed that he thought she was a masterpiece. Even if she couldn’t see it. So she’d asked herself what a masterpiece would do with her life. Someone found her valuable. That meant she must have something to contribute to society. That’s when she’d decided to become a teacher.
“In the beginning, I believed you believed it. And that was enough for me. Then I began to see myself through your eyes. Eventually, I got there. I began to ask myself what a masterpiece would do with her life. How would she contribute to society?” She took a deep breath. “Then I decided to become a teacher. Because I wanted to teach other girls that they too were masterpieces. I wanted to give them hope the way you had given me hope.”
“When did that stop being true?”
She frowned. “What?”
“When did you stop being a masterpiece? When did you stop mattering? When did your life cease to be a light to all those girls you’ve been teaching? When did you stop wanting to help them?”
Her face acquired a distressed look. “I do still want to help them. I just…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what the voices had said to her. Now she voiced them, “‘How can you help anybody else? You couldn’t even help yourself! Look at the misery your life has become! Are you going to teach those girls how to be miserable too? You’re nothing. If you were a masterpiece, Eun would have respected you. He wouldn’t have dared to touch a masterpiece!’”
She began to sob because the power of those words had overwhelmed her like an evil sea crashing down upon her head. Its waves had overcome her in the dark hours of the night. Pressed in on one side by memories of Eun’s abuse and on the other by these tormenting voices, Stasia had found it impossible to sleep or to find any kind of peace. She was assaulted by wave after wave of black thoughts, pulling her down into their murky depths until she couldn’t breathe. She just wanted the misery to end. Hence, she’d thought of suicide.
“Stasia,” Yoongi whispered. “Those aren’t your thoughts. Those are evil voices of discouragement sent to keep you from your destiny. You came to Korea to be a light to a new generation. You have been that light. You are still that light. Being raped hasn’t changed any of that. Don’t give Eun a power he doesn’t have. He could touch your body, but you don’t have to let him touch your soul. You can cast his cords off of you.
“Thieves attempt to steal valuable artwork all the time. They dare to touch a masterpiece. Not because it’s not valuable but because it is valuable. And because they are thieves.” He paused for a moment, considering.
“Let me ask you a question. If you found out that one of your students had been raped and was now contemplating suicide, what would you tell her? If she said she was no longer a masterpiece because some creep had attacked her, would you agree with her?”
“Of course not!” she replied savagely.
His eyebrows flew up. “Then the same is true of you, sweetheart.” He hugged her close. “You are still a masterpiece, Stasia. Just because he put his filthy hands on you doesn’t mean you’re no longer precious. If I have mud on my hands and I pick up a gold coin and leave mud all over it, have I devalued the coin?”
She stared at him. “No.”
He bent towards her ear and whispered, “Then you remain priceless no matter what dirt you got dragged into.”
She began to cry silent tears as his breath slid over her skin. She shivered with the touch of it. Once again, she buried her face against his shoulder and sobbed. She had a choice to make. Would she believe Yoongi and fight for the life she’d dreamed of, or would she fall down an abyss that could lead her to participating in destructive behaviors?
—
Yoongi held her for a long time. He could feel her body relaxing against him as she fell asleep. She had finally unwound. She’d been tighter than a bowstring when he’d first taken her into his arms. Even resting against his chest, she’d been holding herself back from him.
He debated his options. He could wake her up. But she really needed the sleep. He knew eventually his legs would fall asleep. So he opted to maneuver his body sideways and then he scooted down the couch – which wasn’t easy carrying a girl on his lap – until he could stretch out and lie down. He took her with him until she was lying next to him on that cramped couch, her legs up over his hip. His left arm was still around her, her head pillowed against his chest.
She was fast asleep. He smiled as he gazed down over his cheek at her. He was so happy she was sleeping. Perhaps they’d pass the night here, and he’d take her to breakfast in the morning. He’d encourage her to eat. He hadn’t seen her eating much lately. He reached up with his right hand and pulled on the blanket that was resting on the back of the couch. He settled it over her sleeping form. Finally, he tucked the edge around himself. Then he closed his eyes and simply savored the feel of her in his arms.
It awakened a memory in him. It was strange because it was from when he was little, and his grandmother had embraced him after pulling him up into her bed. She hadn’t been feeling well, and tiny Yoongi, quite worried about her, had traveled to her bedroom to check on her. He’d set the back of his hand against her warm forehead. Her eyes had fluttered open, and she had smiled weakly at him. Then she’d patted the edge of the bed.
“Min Yoongi,” she’d whispered. “Come, climb up here and keep an old woman company.”
After he’d scrambled up onto her bed, she’d pulled him close, and he had buried his face against her chest. She’d enveloped him in a blanket of heat. He had closed his eyes and fallen asleep. Much like Stasia had just done. Yoongi felt like he could lie on this uncomfortable couch for the rest of his life if it would bring her peace.
