We used to be young, lively and uninhibited, with bright hope apparent in our starry eyes. Dreams to travel the world, see the Tsavo, visit the grand canyon and back pack Europe raged our minds, a group of giggly girls, with big dreams and thrifted wardrobes.
We used to be young, lively and dynamic, we would enjoy life, go out to clubs with lads, sit on their laps and enjoy cocktails decorated with an array of coloured umbrellas. The lads would drone on about football and stories about how they conquered the world, just to impress a group of young giggly girls. We would mindlessly laugh at the jokes that objectified other women and reduced them to nothing but a type. We didn’t care, we were young, petite and beautiful, a group of giggly girls living in the present.
We used to be young, dumb and reckless. Monday morning would knock on our doors with pending assignments and impromptu CATS from our lecturers, which we would miss. The next morning, the giggly girls would be polished up, glittering eyeshadow, red lipsticks with the best crop tops and mom jeans outfits. A group of giggly girls; nineteen and seductive.
We used to be young, bold and careless. The lecturer would be male, probably just finished his masters program. He would be weak, the pleading red lips, the youthful skin, the fragrance of pure youth and perky breasts defeating his resolve for even his loins identified the beauty of the girls. The missed exam would be forgotten after all they are just a group of giggly girls, pretty young things.
We used to be young and audacious, routine Friday nights consisting of little black dresses, showing cleavage sitting on a couple of rich lads who drove a Subaru from Langata. They would crack their usual jokes as you drunk and got high off their bill. They would joke and say lets go to a hotel, now at this point, a well-rehearsed giggle would come from the group followed up my excuses to use the ladies room. It takes you a moment to realise the only giggle you head was yours, it takes another to realise that his nails are digging into your skin. As the ground lurches around you and the world spins at an alarming rate, another invasive hand is on your breast. You want to scream but your mouth doesn’t seem to function. His beer breath is now on you whispering, calm down baby you’ll love it. When they lift you up, your consciousness fails you. Just one giggly girl, whose life is about to change.
We used to be young, naïve and vulnerable. Waking up in the parking lot jolts you to reality, you don’t bother to look for your shoes. As your dad carries you into the hospital, with a grief –stricken face, the light dies out behind your eyes. When you hear him sobbing by your bed, the tears run unrestrained down your cheeks. The world seems dark now, the little black dress is suddenly too short, colours are suddenly too bright and the world Is suddenly dangerous. Your dreams collapse in your mind, because how can one live after such a vile act. As friends give you pity stares, whispered about the short dress you wore that night, guilt rakes your body and you cannot live with it. There’s no one to tell you that it was not your fault, so you take the pills, just one girl, violated and cut down in her prime.