EMPOWER Malaysia organised a writing competition to encourage the wider public to "Break the Silence", for themselves & others. This is one of the top entries, written by Chee Jia Hua.
Dear Elaine,
I am scared. I am so scared.
Never in my life have I felt this strong a fear, and I was never really afraid of anything.
But the thought that last night could have been the last time I saw you, spoke to you, that last week could have been the last time we had a laugh together, that last month could have been the last time I held you… it terrifies me.
I wish you were here, in front of me, to give me your warm smile and tell me we’re going to be okay.
But fuck. You’re not.
Dear Elaine,
I’m sorry.
Dear Elaine,
It’s been 3 days, 3 long days without you.
I’m sorry.
Dear Elaine,
I never intended on telling you this. I would have avoided it for the rest of our lives if I could but every night’s been eating me alive and I can only see you behind my closed eyelids, broken.
I was a monster. I want to say that I’m not one anymore but I can’t seem to convince even myself of that. I don’t want you - of all people - to hate me but god, how much longer can I keep it in when you’re like this?
I’m sorry, Elaine.
Dear Elaine,
It was 15 years ago, I could never forget it, the year 2007. I was a senior in university - revered and popular, but not in the right ways. It was close to midnight and we were at a bar, a bunch of my friends and I with girls I hardly knew from a college nearby. Throughout the night, I noticed a girl from our group who kept looking my way and smiling. When everyone got up to leave, I lingered behind and whispered things I’d rather not repeat, into her ear. She seemed excited but hesitant, so I made up her mind for her; I brought her to the motel across the street.
She was nervous, I still remember that well. She was trying to make conversation about school and other things I couldn’t care less about as I kissed her on her neck and along her collarbone. She jokingly pushed me away, shifting further but I kept closing the distance between us.
Such a coy little thing, I thought then.
When my hands wandered, she started saying No but all I could hear was a challenge. She stopped smiling around then.
When I started unclothing her, she started to resist but all I could feel was power. After all, she was so small, so easy to control, what could she have done to a man twice her size? It felt as though she was giving me permission, as though she wanted me to but didn’t want to be the one to admit it.
I wish I could give an excuse; that I was drunk, not in the right mind, emotional, or, something... But I knew exactly what I was doing and yet, I couldn’t stop, not then, not anymore.
I’ve gone this far, I might as well. It was wrong for me to think I had the choice.
Afterwards, I held her close as we fell into slumber; her, sobbing and quivering in my arms and I, sleeping soundly with a smile plastered on my face. I woke up the next morning to find that she had already left. She took all her belongings and it looked as though she had never shared the night with me, the only thing she left behind was her scent.
I was so undeservingly lucky that she didn’t tell anyone, that she assumed she should be grateful that I chose her. I didn’t realise what I had done until I saw it in the flinch the next time I talked to her. She wouldn’t smile, let alone look my way, and I didn’t try to approach her. Eventually, she cut ties with my friend group and no one knew why, they only assumed and made up rumours. Only then I got to know her name was Christine.
The guilt set in slowly. As I grew up, I saw depictions on television of men doing what I had done, I saw it in the newspapers, in books and games. I heard my own mother cursing someone to hell for it, I felt so sick I had to leave the room.
I know feeling sorry won’t erase my crime, I know it too well. I know it because you’re in that hospital bed, broken, violated and not waking up because of what another man did to you.
No… not another man, it was what I did to you.
Dear Elaine,
You woke up this morning, I was so happy I cried. Just last night they caught the man who raped you and trust me, I was ready to drive straight to the police station to punch his teeth out but I couldn’t leave your side. I’m glad I chose to stay because I got to see your eyes finally open and look at me with unconditional love. I wanted to see that one last time before you read my letters. I am writing this last letter as you’re getting harassed by the nurses inside - they were all super relieved to see you awake too.
Elaine, my beautiful, sweet daughter, there are no words that can express just how much I love you and cruelly, just as equally, how much I will miss you. Your mother will take you home when you’re discharged. All your things are already at her house and don’t worry, I didn’t peek into the super secret purple box you kept hidden under the bed.
You know where I’ll be when you’re ready to talk to me, if you ever are. Don’t ever feel like you need to reach out if you don’t want to, I don’t think I could bear to see you uncomfortable around me. I promise, I’ll make it up to you and to Christine. I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again, not in your lifetime and not in as many other little girls’ lifetimes as I can. I’ll speak up for you and defend you for the rest of my life because I failed you once. That is what I owe you, as a father and what I should do, at least, as a man.
I’ll see you soon. Take care and grow up to be the strong, bright, young woman I know you can be.
Baba loves you.
So much.
Years later…
Dear baba,
Hello, hi, it’s Elaine.
It’s so weird living without you. I go into the kitchen and expect to see you standing over the stove, telling the eggshells off for cracking into the bowl, but there’s no inanimate object scolding here, just mama who wordlessly and effortlessly makes sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast.
Honestly, I don’t remember much aside from that. I can recall how you took me to school every day on your bike and how I burnt myself on the exhaust pipe, I still have the scar. I can recall the little things. Studies have been well…
I’ve seen you, baba. On the televisions and in the newspapers. I see you holding up signboards, speaking to crowds, fighting for us, for me… You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you. You are thinner, more gentle, soft-spoken but firm, you call yourself a feminist.
I don’t know if my proud tears meant that I should forgive you but mama says I can take my time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really so proud to call you my baba, I always was.
It’s just…
I need time.
The man still comes into my dreams, those are the nights I scream. And sometimes… sometimes you’re there with him. I know it isn’t real and that you’d never do such a thing again. Still, I’m so afraid that when I see you, all I’m going to be able to see is him and I don’t want that, baba.
I will visit you soon, surely. Maybe I can join you in one of your talks one day, I hear you mentioning me a lot in your speeches and I, too, want to do what you do now, I want to fight. No other girl deserves to have nightmares so real.
I’m sure you miss me because I hear it in the way you say my name on the telly. It felt a little unfair for me to know that and you not to, so… I miss you too.
I’ll be waiting for your letter, stay safe, baba!
Love, Elaine.
P.S. Could you not have thought of a better name for your campaign, though? My friends are making fun of “Elaine’s Voice” every time I get too loud in class. You remember Sophia and Gillian, don’t you?
P.S.S. You can keep the name, I’m just being a brat. Until I am ready to speak out myself, thank you for being my voice. I just want you to know I don’t blame you for what happened to me. I hope you don’t see yourself as a monster anymore.
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