Chapter 34: The Public's Opinion

Everybody is addicted to something.

It can be drugs, alcohol, video games, or even fast food. Meanwhile, I was addicted to the public’s opinion regarding my post. I would spend the whole day reading each and every post made about it on different social media platforms, whether it’d be good or bad. I watched how easily people’s perspective on the situation would shift within the span of a few hours.

I wouldn’t eat and I barely slept. My eyes were locked on the screen as I constantly refreshed the page and searched for keywords. I would even check Kevin’s social media sites for his statement on the matter but he didn’t say anything yet.

I let out a long and tired sigh as the view outside of my window caught my eye. It was a busy day today as people rushed to go where they needed to be. Their vibrant clothes shine in the morning light as the people move like enchanting shoals of fish. There is chatter between sellers and buyers, old friends catching up, and even new friends being made. It's busy for sure, but the hustle and bustle brings a life to this city I wouldn't want to be without.

I pursed my lips into a thin line, finally knowing what to do. I closed my laptop and placed it on the desk beside my bed.

I need to get some fresh air. I have to accept that my life will never be the same and that my only way of doing this is to stop being obsessed with looking through social media for validation when it’s something I shouldn’t even do.

This is my story and I know that it is real. Spending my time looking at these posts about Kevin and I isn’t going to make me feel better. Only I have the power to do this. After all, I am worthy of escaping this hurricane of thoughts, the positive and the negative analysis of the actions and words of others. I am worthy of love and a better life, I am.

And with that, I was able to pick myself back up again. I cleaned up the apartment and finally took a shower. I dressed up well that day even though I just planned to go out and get dessert to take home. It’s the thought that counts I guess. I formed a small smile as I eyed myself in the mirror.

I can do this.

The moment I stepped out of my apartment complex, a sudden surge of energy ran through my veins. There was just something about it. I’ve stayed so long inside my apartment that I kind of missed the feeling of the warm sun against my skin and the smell of coffee coming from the nearby cafes.

As I walked to my favorite bakery, there is music to the feet on the streets, a chaotic rhythm born of universal soul. There is a tempo to it all, an upbeat mambo that's asking why the passers by aren't dancing instead of taking their usual steps.

So in my imagination the songs dial up their volume and I see a musical of sorts, the bright umbrellas twirling and strangers linking arms to dance in a circle before carrying on their way, never to meet again yet each of them brightened for the experience. It's as if the streets are a set we can make any movie upon, we as the actors for better and worse. I see the same cracks and peeling paint; I see the buildings that need more love, but it's just a set right? We get to choose our own lines and actions.

I get to choose my own lines and actions.

And I chose to finally move on and become happy once again.

The walk to the bakery seemed longer than before. I could feel the stares of men and women as I walked past them. It made me feel self-conscious but I decided to ignore everyone as I held my chin up and opened the door of the bakery. As soon as people heard the chime attached to the door, all the customers' eyes darted to me.

Here goes nothing.

I gulped as I made my first step inside. I can do this. I kept repeating this statement as I walked around to see which bread I will buy. I can hear the hushed whispers of some people. I tried to block out everything as I focused on choosing which item to buy. I made my way to the counter to ask for brioche and cinnamon rolls. As the one in charge went to get my order, a woman suddenly approached me.

“Hey! Excuse me, aren’t you the one who posted the false rape claims against Kevin Butler?” She interjected as I waited for my order to arrive. It took me a second to register what she said. Her question left me stunned. What nonsense is she spouting? I turned to face her as I tried my best to compose myself after hearing her false accusation. I flashed her a fake smile before answering her question.

“Why yes I’m the one in the video but those are not false rape claims.” I retorted while gritting my teeth. I reminded myself that she doesn’t personally know me that’s why she had the audacity to say those things to me.

“Well, I saw one post that says that you’re only using Kevin for clout.” She stated confidently, making sure others heard what she said. I furrowed my eyebrows at her.

“This is why people don’t report. It's people like you who doubt victims’ stories and side with the abuser that makes us afraid to come out with our own experiences.” I snapped at her. By this time, the people inside the bakery fell into silence and it was only the two of us who were talking. I couldn’t care less if they eavesdrop into our conversation. It’s time I shut down people who keep talking as if they know better.

“Do you have-” She tried to answer back but I abruptly cut her off.

“No I don’t have any evidence to prove it to you but please don’t invalidate my experience by saying that what I experienced was untrue because believe me when I say that until now it still haunts me.” I declared loudly for everyone else to hear. Since we’re already at this point where everyone’s listening to the both of us, might as well let them hear clearly what I have to say.

“Yeah she’s right!” I heard someone at the back of the bakery voiced out. A man stepped in between us.

“I had a sister who went through the same thing. She experienced being ridiculed because people thought she was lying. Even though we encouraged her, there were still people like you who drove her to the brink of death. She couldn’t handle the pressure of trying to prove herself.” He shared his story with us. I looked at him with sad eyes. How difficult it must have been for him and his family.

The woman earlier lowered her head as she realized her mistake. “I’m so sorry. I should have known better.” She murmured. I turned back at her to see her apologetic expression.

“It’s okay. I just hope you’ll learn from this.” I was about to pat her on the shoulder but she suddenly turned around and hurriedly walked out of the bakery, her face flushed with embarrassment.

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion as I watched her storm away until I couldn’t see her anymore from where I stood before I turned to look at the guy. I thanked him for sharing his story and for also standing up for me. He shrugged his shoulders as if it was nothing.

“I was reminded by my sister when I heard your story. Seeing you in person and witnessing something like earlier made my blood boil. I couldn’t stand here without doing anything.” He said solemnly, his eyes held a glint of determination and sadness. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for his help.

“Thank you so much for helping, we need more people like you.” I flashed him an honest smile. He gestured to me that it’s not a big deal and bid goodbye. I watched his retreating back. I couldn’t believe that there are still people like him in this world who are willing to help strangers.

I jolted in surprise as I heard someone clear their throat behind me. “Excuse me, miss. Here’s you brioche and cinnamon rolls.” The guy at the counter said as he handed over my order.

“Thank you.” I replied as I got the two pastries.

“That will be $10.” He said as he printed out my receipt. I handed him the exact amount and walked away.

I walked out with my head held high. It feels liberating to be able to stand up to myself. I feel so giddy going home. The support I received back at the bakery feels so refreshing. I still had a silly smile plastered on my face as I opened the door of my apartment.

Things are going to get better.