On September 31st I was raped. Very few people know this about me. I’m too scared to tell anyone. How do I even tell someone? How do I handle the way my parents would look at me knowing? My friends? How could I go to the police? Tell my story over and over again? See his face in court? How would they even believe me? The man who raped me I knew. We’ve hung out before, we’ve hooked up before. Who would believe it was rape this time when we’ve had sex before. How do I handle this. Did he think it was okay to do it because of before; even when I said no. I said no, I pushed him away. Here’s what happened that night. I go over for the plan to watch movies. Just simple watch movies and hang out. I get there and he’s wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie. Once I come in the room he took off his hoodie. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I put my purse down on the chair next to his desk and slide my flip flops off. I walk to the bed and sit on the end corner. He comes over to me and starts to try and kiss me. I said what are you doing. He grabs at my waist. I say his name. He pulled down my shorts. I push him away, but he keeps going for me. My body went into shock. I didn’t no what to do. I say briefly *his name* no. He pulls down his shorts. My heart is racing, my body is frozen. He pushes me back and forces himself on me. He begins to say “Sophia, Sophia, Sophia”. I think who is Sophia. My name isn’t Sophia. I don’t even know a Sophia. I try to shove him back, but he keeps going. I feel so weak, so worthless. He pulls back my button shirt. It doesn’t go over my shoulder so my arm is yanked back. I feel my shoulder throbbing of pain while he’s on top on me. I try pushing him away again. He’s too big, he’s too strong. I remember him lifting my legs. I remember the extreme pain then. It hurt, I tried to wiggle away. But he kept going. At that point I gave up. It’s all flashing by me. I’m feeling this pain and weird movement I can’t control. I’m looking to side as he has his way. I don’t know what to do. It all happens so quickly. He gets off of me, I assume he’s done. I sit up, I’m shaking. My face is in a blank stare. What just happened? He looks at me from across the room, “are you okay” mutter from his mouth. How could he even ask me that. I look at him and look away. He walks to the bathroom. I shuffle around for my shorts and underwear. I just put my shorts on. I see him in the bathroom, staring at himself. Standing there, naked, looking at himself in the mirror. Looking at himself like he’s some god, like he accomplished something. I was so disgusted. How could he be standing there like that… I grab my underwear and walk over to my purse and shove them in. I can’t find my shoes. He gets a phone call, a friend I assume. I overhear “oh I’m doing nothing” “Yea I can”. I see my flips flops under the desk. I put them on. “Oh are you leaving” he asks. “Yes I’m going home” I barely mutter out of my mouth. I walk down the my car. I get in, lock the door, barely have the strength to turn my car on. Then I sob. I cry, uncontrollably. That just happened. That actually happened to me. I’m crying so hard I can’t even drive. I keep replaying what happened in my mind over and over and over again. I never thought this would happen. I always thought if I was in this situation I could fight back. I’m angry at myself, at my body, why did I shut down? Why did I go into shock? Maybe if I just pushed a little harder. I sit there and cry for an hour straight. I finally get a second to try and calm myself down. I need to get home, I thought to myself. I pull up my maps because I wasn’t too familiar with where I was. I remember driving home, I remember points of not being able to se because my tear s clouded my eyesight. I remember arriving home, trying to stop crying. Wipe the tears away, what if someone is awake? They’ll know something is wrong. I creep into the room I share with my sister. I lay down and begin to cry again. I hope she doesn’t hear me, I try to keep quite. I just lay there and cry until I’ve cried myself to sleep.
Today, I sometimes forget about it. Until I hear people with his name, I have trouble saying his name. Also each time I drive past this certain street. It’s literally his name. Each time I pass it, I remember him, what happened. I’m trying to move on, it’s just so hard.
— Cassidy, age 18