While I Slept

I thought he was cheating on me.

What I didn’t know was worse.

He wasn’t sneaking around with someone else.

He was orchestrating rape.

On me.

While I slept.

There are no words that prepare you for that kind of realization. You don’t just lose trust—you lose your grip on what’s real. You question every night you slept beside him.

Every touch. Every smile. Every dream.

You wonder when the nightmare began—and if it ever ended.

What hurts more is that I couldn’t scream. I still can’t.

Not publicly. Not legally.

Not when the world asks for proof before pain.

Not when abusers hide behind masks of charm and silence.

But I can write this.

And maybe, that’s how the reckoning begins.

Because I know I’m not the only one.

I know there are others who woke up feeling “off,”

others who blamed themselves,

others who were gaslit into silence.

This post is for us.

For those who never gave consent, even in sleep.

For those whose nightmares wore the face of someone they loved.

Karma is coming. And it doesn’t knock.

It breaks in.

It drags the truth into the light.

And it won’t stop—until justice breathes again.

Anonymous