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On the 1st January years ago I woke up in a strangers house. My bag was missing and I had very little recollection of the previous night. I was only 18, and had been looking forward to my first legal NYE celebrations with my friends. I had honestly no idea how I’d got to this house, I had vague memories but nothing really came together fully. A man was there. I asked him how I’d got there and he said he’d seen me walking along the street in the early hours alone and drunk. He said he’d taken me in to help me. I asked if I could borrow his phone so I could contact my friends to pick me up. He said only if I had sex with him. The front door was locked and there was nothing I could do.

I try to block out the details of what he made me do. After I’d done what he wanted me to, I used his phone to go on Facebook and get the number of my friend who had a car. I called her and woke her up and asked her to come and get me at 8AM on NYD – bless my lovely friend for doing that. I didn’t tell anyone fully what happened – a bit of information here and there but never the full story. My friends that were involved still don’t know 100% what happened. I text my dad when I got back to my friends house saying I’d lost my stuff, that I was at my friends and that I’d be home later. He was furious with me when I got home. Rightly so; I’d had a terrible few months just before this happened, dropped out of uni and moved back home, everyone was already disappointed in me. Me losing my phone and bag was the tipping point. They would have thought I was just being a liability – I never told them I had been spiked, or anything that had ever happened that night.

A few nights later me and my friends were gathered round and debating what had happened to my stuff. My friend who I’d called from his phone said she still had his number on her call log, so why don’t we call him and just check he didn’t still have my stuff? I was weary, didn’t really want to hear his voice but my friends wanted to and they didn’t know the full story so I let them call him. He answered and I felt sick. It was on loudspeaker. We asked where my stuff was, and after a few questions that I don’t fully remember, he said “Didn’t she tell you what happened after that?” I said “hang up now”. We hung up and I just said that I didn’t want to hear any more and that he obviously didn’t have my stuff. It was actually because I didn’t want them to know that I had allowed him to force me into allowing him inside me.

A few weeks went by and I realised I hadn’t had my period in a while. And yes, the inevitable had happened. I did not go through with it. I don’t think I need to justify the reasons why.

I still think about it everyday. I never reported him. I should have. I’m sorry if anyone out there reading this was effected by the same man. In another world I would have liked to have been stronger and put him where he rightfully belongs, but I am sure a lot of you who have been through something similar knows it is not that easy.

— Survivor, age 24

1 comment

  • Alexis


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