November 27th 2015. I still haven’t been able to call it what it was out loud. Rape. I was a freshman in college, but back home for thanksgiving break, and one of my close friends had a party where lots of people came, and many were drinking. I chose not to drink that night, as I was planning on driving home later and not sleeping over.
I woke up in the morning wearing someone else’s sweatshirt, and the clothes I had been wearing that night no where to be found. I stood up to find my keys and go home, and immediately realized I couldn’t walk, and had the urge to throw up. Even when I do choose to drink, I have gotten plenty drunk many times and I have never thrown up, so I was very confused that I had stayed sober and was dry heaving over the toilet. I called my dad to come pick me up, and told him my cramps were awful and couldn’t drive myself home. Once I got home, stayed in the shower for a couple of hours, I got out and saw a text from a boy from my high school that I hadn’t talked to in months. “Yo”. I said what’s up, confused why he was texting me. He told me I should probably take a plan b pill after last night. I asked what the hell he was talking about and if he was at my friends house. He said he couldn’t remember completely but knows that we had sex. This is when I texted my friends who were there the night before, asking if they had seen me drinking and I had forgotten, or could have been drugged. They said I didn’t seem like my usual fun, drunk self, and that this boy was hanging around me all night and we disappeared, which is very unlike my usual self, as I am a virgin and am not the type of girl who hooks up with random guys. This is when I found out he drugged me. A girl who didn’t know either of us walked into a bedroom that we were in, but quickly shut the door as she thought she was intruding on a couple, consensually having sex. But the next day she confirmed that it was me in that bed, under him.
When I finally texted him back. I tried to get rid of him by just saying okay I’ll take it, hoping he would stop talking to me, but he proceeded to say “lol good I ain’t fuckin with kids yet”. I could not believe what he was saying.
A month later over Christmas break, he showed up at my best friends secret Santa exchange with some other guys, uninvited. We were drinking, and I immediately saw him and ran upstairs crying. Some of my girlfriends followed me, not having any idea why I suddenly freaked out. They didn’t all know about him, and none of them knew about the nightmares and the PTSD I had, and still have because of what he did that night. They politely asked him to leave, and he caused a scene, causing more people to find out that, in his words “are you kicking me out cause I fucked __?”
I haven’t talked to him since, but I am working 6:15 am – 10 pm at night at 3 different jobs, in order to stay as far away from him as possible and not run into him around town.
Trying to forgive him is the hardest and most confusing thing I’ve ever encountered, but God has helped me heal and is continuing to bless my life and keep me safe.
— Survivor, age 19