The summer before my junior year of high school is something I would never, ever relive. In three months my parents divorced, I broke up with my boyfriend of three years because cheated on me with another guy ( I would later find out he had been doing it for months), my oldest sister tried to kill herself, and I was almost raped my my best friend.
I had been friends with Him for six years that summer. He and I had trained in karate together, and that’s where our friendship began. While now I can’t even stand the thought of seeing Him, I remember I loved Him very much. He was like my brother, and was the truest person in my life. However, while He was a very good person towards me, to others…well…He was a dick. He cheated on the countless girlfriends He had, and treated everyone like they were below him. His girlfriend at the time was one He had had for six months and for the first time He was doing good. He respected her, although I really could have done without their constant make-out sessions.
That aside, He was there for all of my ups and downs. He was able to make me laugh when I cried and hug away all of the bad things. But one day…He didn’t stop at the hugging.
That day, He and I went up to the lake just north of our hometown. The lake dipped low into a valley, and there was absolutely no cell service ever. He always blamed aliens. And I always called Him stupid. During this summer the lake had been drained since the county was lived in was in a terrible drought, and we explored the exposed dead trees the lake water had hidden until then. We made a fort out of trees and sat inside of it for hours, talking about our lives. When I brought up that I was going to see if a guy I like would go to a movie with me He got angry. Stood up, paced. He told me no one could protect me, that He was the only one who could protect me. He started yelling to me about all of the things that had happened this summer and that the other boy would only break my heart again. I began to cry then. Months of being too proud to cry caught up to me, and I barely noticed when He began to kiss me.
I had never once thought of Him as more than my friend. We had even kissed once when we were twelve and we pushed away from each other grossed out and promised never to do it again.
Neither of us pushed away then. I don’t know what He was thinking, but my mind was blank. Blank with the sadness, blank with the shock that my best friend was kissing me and touching me under my shirt.
I didn’t come back to reality until I felt Him rubbing his hips into mine. It was then that I noticed I was naked from the waist up, and He had taken off my glasses. Mostly blind, and panicked I began to squirm. I started saying, “Get off me. Get OFF me.”
I am a third degree black belt. I have made girls and older boys cry at tournaments. I can lift and throw a grown man.
But in that moment…HE was the heaviest thing that had ever been on top of me. He grabbed me hard, leaving bruises that would last for weeks. I cried out telling Him it hurt and to get off me. I told Him I do not want this. I said no.
His reply was to tie my hands together with His belt and pin them under me before saying, “No, you DO want this. I love you.”
Then, with all His weight on me, he began to take off my pants. As my mind raced He muttered that he loved me and that He would make me feel good. I just kept saying, “No, no, no, no.”
It wasn’t until He pulled down the zipper of His shorts that my body reacted. I kneed Him in the groin and hit Him in the jaw with all of my might before rolling away from Him. I grabbed a short log with my belted-together hands and yelled at Him that if he came near me I would hurt Him more.
I then gabbed my clothes, and ran. When I felt like I was a safe distance from Him I looked for my cell in my pants and tried to call my mom. But there was no service. No one was going to save me.
I had to ride home in the same car as the boy who tried to rape me. The boy who had been my best friend. He never even said sorry.
It’s two years later now and I have moved away for college. Last week I told my best friend and boyfriend the story. They both knew him and always wondered why I had stopped talking to him. When they found out why, they both began to cry and hugged me while I just sat there. My tears had all dried out.
This is a true story. I never told anyone. When I began to cut, people grew worried but they thought it was because of my parents. When I had panic attacks when touched intimately by a boy, I told them I was just nervous.
However. Now that I have told my two best friends, I know I should have spoken up earlier. I want anyone who reads this to know that you should always, ALWAYS speak up.