Death Day by Georgia Shuster

Georgia Shuster

Georgia Shuster (she/her) is an undergraduate student at the College of Charleston majoring in psychology and classics in the Honors College while also being a member of the varsity sailing team. A survivor of sexual and physical abuse as a young teenager, she uses her voice in poetry to advocate for those who are in the position she was once in. 

Death Day

No one knows I died that day. 

A brisk spring mid-morning, 

The sun peaking out behind the clouds. 

Storms weren’t in the forecast, 

But the rain would come soon. 

A car ride through my hometown, 

Roads I know like the back of my hand. 

I could drive them with my eyes closed, 

Through the endlessness of this lawless land.

My favorite artist on the radio, 

Songs with lyrics I could sing for hours. 

The windows of his Jeep rolled down, 

Blowing my hair in the salt-sprayed wind. 

No one knows my world stopped turning that afternoon. 

A right turn signal, 

Pulling down a street I can no longer walk. 

An abrupt braking on the side of the road, 

Tires hitting the curb as we stopped. 

His fingers on the dial, 

Turning the music down to nothing. 

A screaming, deafening silence filled the air.

The click of the door as he opened it and stepped out,

Then another as he got into the backseat. 

My belt unbuckling as my body twisted over the console.

Reaching out my hand, 

Wondering why he’s unwilling to touch, 

Climbing over the seats to meet him, 

Sensing his pain through a half-drunk smile. No one

knows the agony he was about to put me through. 

A glance out the window, 

Then locking eyes with mine, 

The life leaving his body, 

His soul dancing through the air in spaces of time.

The first lunge towards me as his arms pinned me down,

The contorting of my body as I fought back, 

Before I realized that it was useless, 

That he would beat me to the fucking ground. 

A weak cry for help, 

A single tear falling down my cheek, 

The pain he inflicted on the spots where he knew I was most weak.

His fingers digging into my throat, 

The air leaving my lungs, 

My arms behind my back, 

Seconds from snapping in half. 

The slamming of my corpse as he threw me about the car, The edge

of the doorframe now imprinted into my spine with a scar. Wanting

to crumble to the pavement, fight or flight not kicking in, Giving up

myself to his power. 

Do what you want. 

You win. 

No one knows why I never told. 

Opening my jaw to scream, 

But no words coming out. 

Quiet “you’re hurting me”s slipping from my mouth.

The final release of his grip, 

The freedom to move on my own, 

But the inability to run without his assistance, 

Something doctors told me was Stockholm. 

The walk back into the car, 

A place I knew I didn’t want to be. 

As terrified as I was to return, 

Running away was what truly scared me. 

The threats leaving his tongue as easily as counting time.

It seemed natural for him, 

As if it was second nature for him to lie. 

I nodded and I never sighed, 

Frightened by the idea of what he might do 

If I ever showed him I didn’t want to keep 

His dirty little secret as mine.