A couple of months ago I went to London. I was there for two weeks staying in halls and knew no one. I was lonely. Having met him once before at a uni party, we’d liked each other and texted every so often. I knew he lived nearby and desperate for company we decided to go on a date, which we’d agreed on months before but lived too far apart.
When he first rocked up he was his lovely, funny self. I enjoyed his company and everything seemed fine but ignored my gut the entire night, which was a mistake. When he first arrived I got the vibe he wanted to sleep with me, even before the date, which I thought was a bit odd and quite frankly inappropriate. I ignored his advances however and we set off into town.
We had a wonderful time, he made me feel special, loved, wanted. We had dinner and went from bar to bar, dancing with the locals and drinking fancy cocktails.
As the night went on, I sensed that something was up but again ignored it. He seemed too keen, too pushy, kept asking me to touch his crotch as he touched mine, in public. I stayed calm, maybe I did want to sleep with him, he was kind, funny and good looking. There was no turning back, so I just kept going, even though I wasn’t in the mood (anxiety induced) and wasn’t sure whether I liked him/ knew he him well enough yet.
I got a bit drunk and we went back to mine. I remember telling him to stop because it hurt.
This was when he flipped. The kindness, the generosity, the humour, gone.
He told me it was a ‘deal breaker’ and went into a sulk. Having made him moody and pissed off, I felt bad. I wanted the old him to come back, this had never happened to me before.
I then let him fuck me over and over, through the pain. I just wanted him to be nice to me again. I gave him my body in exchange for a few drinks. I’ve never been so disgusted with myself, I was a prostitute.
I tried and tried to please him but nothing was enough for him.
He used my body as a playground, something to abuse and ruin.
I went numb, felt nothing, just let him do as he pleased. He didn’t seem to care that he was hurting me, he just got angry if I made him stop.
When I couldn’t take the pain any more, I would pull away but he would hold me down until he finished.
So, I was in this detached state for a while. I didn’t realize what had happened. I got on the bus, went to college and went about my day in a daze, normal even.
It wasn’t until I got back to my room that the truth hit me. I broke down, everything in the room was dripping in associations and memories and I wanted everything in the world to not have to sleep there that night. But I couldn’t go home, couldn’t escape.
The strewn bedding, used condom, towel he used to wipe his cum off me and my clothes from the night before, I wanted to burn. As I washed him semen off my body in the shower, I wept. I curled up in my disgusting bed, and tried to sleep, I still went to college, I still continued my course going back to that room every single day.
I felt dirty, I felt used, I felt ashamed. And the worst part is that he doesn’t even know. I didn’t cry out, I just pretended that I was fine in my detached state. He doesn’t even know.
Now I’m scared of men and I don’t want to be touched.
I’m a young woman, aged 20, I’m a survivor, do I tell him.
— Survivor, age 20