I was raised in a strict Christian family. No boyfriends and no sex talk. It all changed when my parents got a divorce. The night the divorce was finalized my best friend and I went to a party hosted by seniors that I did not know. I was fifteen. I had only ever kissed one boy. I had never drank or done drugs.
I remember the host taking a particular interest in getting me drunk. I can’t say he forced it down my throat or anything. I didn’t know my limit and he just kept handing it to me and encouraging me to drink more. He praised me when I did. They had marijuana and I took a hit, but got sick and went in the house. He followed me in and gave me another shot. I went and sat on a recliner and eventually passed out. I remember bits and pieces after that.
He carried me into his room. He took off all of my clothes. He fingered me, he tore me, he performed oral, and he tried to penetrate me but he was too flaccid from the alcohol. I remember being able to think about how I wanted to get up but my body wouldn’t work. I could only groan. I heard my best friend outside the door. She knew me, and knew I wasn’t like that. The other boys wouldn’t let her in.
He got up and went to the bathroom. I stumbled out of bed and tried to find my clothes, but I couldn’t function. I couldn’t find the light, I couldn’t make my body work. I slumped down on the ground completely naked except for my socks. That’s when someone came in and asked if I wanted to be there because my best friend was causing a scene. I said I didn’t.
Later I woke up wrapped in a towel in the bath tub. A girl was washing my hair. She took me into a room with her and her boyfriend and I slept on the floor. The next morning, the host of the party told me how he really liked me and got my number. He knew he had to cover his tracks because my friend was really upset. She was calling it rape. He never called. I’m not surprised, he didn’t even know my name.
It got around school a little bit. I was so ashamed. I felt like I was in the wrong for getting drunk. I hated that school. So I left. I never went back and it just became a rumor that I would neither confirm nor deny. I consented to sex with a high school boyfriend a few months later because in my eyes I was already ruined. I’m thirty now, and I’ve never shared this story with my parents, but I have an eleven year old sister and I don’t want her to experience anything like it.