Salted Wound

When you ask someone who knows me well how to describe me, the first word that comes to their mind is strong. And yes, I have proven I am strong throughout my life by defying obstacles and haters like the powerful creature that I am. However, there is one part of my life that no matter how hard I try, it will always bring my weakness out: sexual assault. It was the night of my 19th birthday. An appropriate time to celebrate with friends, reflect on prominent memories in life, eat cake and ice cream, and of course, drink alcohol! What better way to celebrate than go to a college party? Little did I know, someone was going to blow out the candles for me. About two hours into the party, my mind was grainy and my actions could not a test to anything I would do when I was sober. I was officially drunk. I had of course carried on that way for the remainder of the night, until I saw him. I had met him once before at a different party, but never had the chance to get to know him. He was also drinking, but was not as bad as I was. My desperate side emerged, and I latched myself to his side. I begged for his attention and would successfully receive it. Earlier my friends and I agreed we would all go back to campus together. They all went home. Without me. I went back to campus with him. My desperate drunken personality was still cursing me, and I gave him the message that I wanted sex. And I did, until he told me that this would be a one night stand and that we’d never see each other again. I then changed my mind. He, however, had other plans. He begged for me to blow him, which I said no to multiple times. I could tell he was getting upset with my stubborn personality, but I didn’t care. My mind was clearing up, but it was still a little foggy. By this point, we were both stark naked and I had no intentions of doing anything with him. Unfortunately, I had no strength to get up and walk back to my dorm. He tried multiple times to make this one night stand work, but he didn’t get anywhere with it. I will never forget the excruciating pain I felt in my back end when he penetrated it. The way I was moaning was not in a pleasured way, but more of a “I didn’t ask for this, please stop” sort of way. To this day, I don’t know what kind of penetration it was, but I remember the poignant feeling I had in that moment. By then, he was done with me and was utterly disgusted with my presence. On that day, my life turned upside down. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I did nothing, it’s not my fault. In fact, something as terrible as this is no ones fault. Sure, I have a salted wound that will take some time to heal, but I’m mending it to the best of my ability. For a few weeks, I was weak. But I have risen above the assault and him. He will never have power over me like he tried to that night, I gained the power back. I am brave. I am beautiful. I am strong.

— Survivor, age 19