"Every year I feel the anniversary coming even before my conscious mind recognizes it. When the air crisps and the leaves begin to turn, I get this thing about taking out the trash. About oatmeal. The eyes in the back of my head, the ones that are never shut, begin to burn like the autumn colors, filling me with emotions I still can't encompass."
An excerpt from the essay, "Returns of the Day" by Nancy Venable Raine
After Silence: Rape and My Journey Back ... Also by Nancy Venable Raine
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