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Halloween 2014

I went to a Halloween party with some of my friends. We had a couple drinks beforehand at my apartment before going out. I brought a bottle of Coke with two or three shots of alcohol in it, intending only to drink that that night so I would stay safely at my limit of five shots. The whole night went very well from 11pm until sometime around 2am. I am a very outgoing and talkative person so I had no problem making new friends and carrying conversations. I was complimented on my Doctor Who themed costume–a TARDIS dress that didn’t show cleavage and went down to my knees. I was having a perfectly fun Halloween night out with friends and would never have suspected to be raped in the bathroom that night.

Right before 2am, I found one girl friend I had brought to the party and chatted with her before moving on to a different girl dressed as a pirate. When I turned around I saw a mass of camouflage in my face. A guy dressed as Goose from Top Gun grabbed my wrist or hand, I’m not sure which. By this point of the night I had only had four shots in all of four hours and was pretty close to sober. I remember him leading me up the stairs to the bathroom of the house, locking the door behind him. The only words I distinctly remember him saying to me were to step out of my tights and dress as he pulled them down to the floor over my shoes.

My memory is fuzzy. I have told a friend of mine who I recently learned was also raped and she said that fear has likely blocked a lot out still. But next I remember noticing his pants were down and I could feel a pressure in my vagina around the same time I realized what was going on, about five minutes in, halfway through the assault. I never tried to stop him, and I feel so ashamed. I didn’t push him away, I didn’t say stop, I didn’t use any of my martial art knowledge from the past year of practicing on him. I didn’t do a single thing, and even though everyone said that I was raped and I’ve said I was raped, sometimes I doubt it myself. He didn’t hurt me. He barely spoke to me when he left, just reminding me to grab my bra that I hadn’t even realized I was no longer wearing. But the whole time I was frozen and numb. I went back downstairs later to everyone leaving and my girl friend from before asking where I had been.

I’ve gotten the rape kit done, tests came back clean for diseases. I even filed a report to the police. But I haven’t pushed to get charges pressed, even though I’ve been able to figure out who he is. I’m afraid he will deny everything and I will look like a fool. I’m afraid he may come after me. I’m afraid of being treated differently by people. I don’t want my rape to define me, although for the last month it has been all I can think and worry about. I have had nightmares. I wish he had hit me or threatened me so I could be angry at him. Have undeniable proof to myself that I couldn’t have done anything to stop him. I have considered trying to alleviate the negative thoughts in my head but I’m against therapy and cutting. I do not have an addictive personality so drinking and smoking wouldn’t work. I’m lost how to deal. Every day and night I think about what happened and I fall into a spiraling-bad mood. I’m prone to depression. I’m afraid to sleep alone at night, yet also afraid to get close to someone emotionally and physically in case I wake up some morning and mistake them for my attacker.

I feel disgusting some times. Sex was always something fun and passionate for me. Now I feel cheap and used. Just a hole to put a penis in. I don’t feel like I’m worth dating. I have already flinched at a trusted guy friend’s accidental touch on the back of my neck for no reason. I am always wary of being attacked at my car or when I walk across campus. I carry a pocketknife with me everywhere in my coat. I don’t feel pretty anymore, I barely feel like I’m even able to be considered cute most days. Like the fact I was raped is written across my face and therefore lowers my beauty and worth as a person. I don’t know how I keep a strong face on for everyone all the time. I’ve shut down my feelings. No anger yet, but anxiety comes back sometimes. Especially when I talk about what happened. I start to shake and feel like crying. But then that gets shut up again. I just want to forget everything that had happened. I want to be happy again.

5 comments

  • Alissa
  • izzi
  • izzi
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