I Should Have Known Better

A short piece about a student reflecting on their teachers inappropriate behaviour.

It always comes back to me, no matter how hard I try to forget or to move on.
Your face lingers in the back of my mind, that rat faced smile I used to look up to, now faded with the events that took place. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and I don’t know how to feel. I wish someone could tell me how I should feel. I wish I was confident as to what really happened, not just my perspective on it. Not that I want yours either. Your lies and deception weaseled you out of this mess among many others, I’m sure. You always were charismatic yet still, an awful liar. I asked you if I was the first and you said no, but your face told another story. I often think about the other girls, do they know what happened was wrong, or are they ok with it? How many more will fall victim now that nothing has been done. I threw a party in hopes that I would move on once it was all over, but it doesn’t work that way. Though I wish it did. Everyone tells me it’s time to move on and some days it feels like I have, but then you come crawling in and I torment myself. I know what you did was wrong, but I don’t know how bad. I don’t know when it began, and I suppose I never will. I can only guess from the memories I have left. It was so hard to come forward, so hard to relive everything, only to have it dismissed with no punishment. You brought up my sex work and played it off as if you didn’t really want to do the things you asked with me. I’ll admit I should have said no. I should have said no to the lot of it. You holding my hand and playing footsie with me the first night. You grabbing my knee and slapping my a*s on the second. I shouldn’t have grabbed back. The coffee meeting a few days later, where you asked if I wanted to fool around and have some fun. I should have been confident, I should have said no. But I didn’t and it came back to slap me in the face. Not enough evidence they said. Never mind the friend I had with me on two occasions. An almost witness to your crime. Now it’s all done with. At least now your students know the kind of man you are. I’m not your victim. Not anymore. I’m strong, and though it broke me down so many times, I stood back up and I fought. I tried to make sure it would never happen again. I tried to protect the next girls in line. I tried and at the very least, I can say that. I tried.