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I had been friends with K for about a year, hung out with him and his girlfriend, consoled his girlfriend after arguments, spent many a night on his couch. We were friends. He got me a job where he worked when I needed a change of pace. So, when I got a new job, he and his girlfriend broke up, and we hadn’t seen each other in over half a year he texted me that he wanted to catch up. It had never been anything other than friendship between us so going for drinks didn’t seem like a big deal and I was excited to get to see him again and find out what was new.

We got to the bar and he paid for drinks so we could sit and talk for a few hours. Two drinks over the course of those hours. And when the bar closed he offered to drive us to another bar if we could stop by his place first.

No problem there, leave my car at the bar and head on our way.

When we get to his place we headed to his room so that we could have a seat, me in the office chair at his desk while he poured us each a drink. And we sat and talked for awhile.

And then nothing. I have no recollection of how my shoes came off and why I was suddenly walking through his connected bathroom and out the other side to the kitchen.


And then giggling as he tries to guide me through the dining room and in doing so, smashes his foot into a dining room chair.


And I’m cold so I look down and see that my pants and shirt are off.


And then in the hot tub with him sitting across from me. I have to struggle to keep my head up.

Nothing and then I come to and I’m in his lap with his hand on my ass, the other on my back, and his mouth on mine. I’m too messed up to speak or shove away or to even move my arms. I was a rag doll that he was holding up above water. So, he asked, and I’ll never forget, “why won’t you kiss me back?” And I tried to lean back into the water away from him.


When I woke up finally and had regained movement and control of myself I was in the driver’s seat of my car on the expressway, by some miracle headed home. I woke up because I had started to drift off of the road and hit the rumble strips.

The next morning I woke with bruises on my inner thighs and on one hip, long, slender bruises. And a killer hang over.

When I ask about that night he has assured me that nothing happened because he is currently trying to start a relationship with a girl, the bruises are from my clumsiness, and that he asked if I would kiss him back not why wouldn’t I. But on some days he will say he is sorry and that he will do anything to gain back my respect.

But I do nothing. I don’t report. I don’t ask anymore. And I don’t talk to K. Because I have no definitive proof and a trial would be hell to prove something I wasn’t even conscious for. All I have are things that I remember out of nowhere and things that I see in nightmares, both of which could be real or my brain filling in the gaps.

I see him in passing: on the road in mutual areas, at get together with my prior coworkers, and when he pops up on Facebook and I have to see his smug, stupid face.

And there’s nothing I can do about any of it.

— Survivor, age 22


  • Tee
  • Lucy


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