I had been seeing this guy for 5 months. We spent all of our time together. I even went spent time with his family fishing. Although we spent most of our time together, it was spent at the bar, or at home drinking. I was at a point in my life where I was trying to escape from the past, emotional abuse, and the abortion I had, so drinking seemed like a good idea.
We had both had plenty to drink, but I still knew what was going on. As usual we were becoming intimate, and then he began to hurt me. I told him to stop, and he kept going, telling me how much I liked it. I couldn’t move, but I cried and yelled. I’m not sure how it ended, but I managed to walk home after despite hardly being able to walk. the next morning I noticed bruises, and couldn’t believe the pain. He called me and apologized profoundly.
After a few days we began spending time together again. Fast forward a month, I told him I was moving. We had broken up for good at this point, when I saw him at the bar. I don’t know how, why, or what, but the next morning I woke up in his bed wondering what the heck had happened. I didn’t remember a thing other than I remember his friends being there, and didn’t have that much to drink either. I walked home that morning feeling very off, very sick, that I was dirty, even worse than the first time.
The only person I told was my best friend who took pictures of the bruises just in case I wanted to go to the police about it. This was two years ago.