I went out for a night out with work, but I wasn’t nervous or apprehensive despite not knowing very many people that would be present. I worked part time in a shop, and the man who owned it owned a number of others and had a Christmas party for all of his employees. I was excited for the night out and it was about a five minute walk from my friends apartment who said I could stay, just call when I was outside (he regularly stayed up until 3 or 4)
The night went on, I was having a fun time. I drank, ate and smoked outside with the few people I knew. I flirted with the cute boy who worked in my shop but I had never actually worked with as we were both students. I remember thinking, this has been such a lovely night nothing big happening just a bit of fun and food and drink. When it was over my friend who I arrived with (a gay male, about ten years older than me who I was completely comfortable with) said he’d walk me up to my friend’s apartment and get himself a taxi. Others suggested we move on to a bar close by for one last drink. We decided we would, sure what harm would it do. A lot it seems, looking back.
Fast forward, forty minutes. The cute boy kissed me in the bar, it was nice sweet and short. We continued talking and chatting with the others. Nothing strange. Right let’s go, it’s late now. My gay friend and cute boy and myself all left. Gay friend said he’d walk me down, cute boy said no take this taxi I’ll walk her there it’s no problem. We were both fine with this.
Me and cute boy leave, we walks down an alley and kisses me, I don’t kiss back this time. ‘No come on I need to get back.’ He continues to kiss me and I reluctantly return it in the hope he stops soon. He doesn’t. ‘Okay stop please wtf please stop.’ I’m against the wall now and his hands are everywhere. The location locks in my mind. It couldn’t be more stereotypical. Far down a dark alley and behind the shelter of large dumpsters. No one will see me. It still hasn’t clicked what is happening to me. He continues to kiss me and his hands are now in my jeans. I turn ice cold and out my hand in his wrist and try to pull it away. I’m athletic and strong for my size but I feel like I’ve no strength. ‘Okay NAME can you stop for gods sake I’ve to go home.’ He replies ‘aw come on you know you want a little.’ I don’t. Not at all. His hands are on my shoulders and suddenly I’m on the floor. His jeans are open, his hands on my head and then it’s in my mouth, it’s down my throat. I’m not moving, but my head is, the two hands on it forcing it back and forward. I can’t breathe but barely notice, I’ve gone into complete shock. I’m in so much pain but won’t have it register it with me until a few hours later when I awake. I’m pulled to my feet and utter stop once more. Nothing. I’m turned around and forced against the wall, bent over in an awkward position. My jeans are pulled down but only the smallest amount. And then it happens. This part I barely remember, just brief flashes. It’s the pain the next day that is easy to remember. He forced himself into me while I stood frozen. His fingers poking and prodding at me like a piece of meat. And then he was inside me with his full self, his hands holding my hips so tight that they bruised black and blue with his finger shapes visible very clearly.
I woke a few hours later on the steps of a random apartment building, having no recollection of what had happened but being in immense pain. I thought wow how did I get so drunk last night and got particularly anxious at the unsafe position I had put myself in. I got myself ti a coffee shop and charged up my phone to messages from my friend asking where I was, I replied saying I had stayed at ‘gay friend’ instead. I still didn’t remember. I went home and was in a very upset mood either everyone, I had a brief nap and then I dreamt it and when I woke up I was in cold sweats I remembered what had happened. Not much but brief flashes. I made myself get the morning after pill the day after this- telling the pharmacist I had had ‘sex’ the night before was horrific. I had cuts in my hands and knees my knees were horrifically bruised. The handprint bruises on my hips. And my bloodstained pants for three and four days after ( not period) were physical reminders that disappeared quite quickly. But the mental scars have yet to heal. He took everything from me. He didn’t just rape my body. He raped my mind and soul too.