Up until right now, I’ve never spoke of what happened to me. I’ve never told anyone. I really don’t know why. Maybe because I felt to blame. Maybe because I’m not sure it could even be considered rape. I really don’t know. The only thing I do know is that it made me feel terrible and disgusting.
When I was 18 I went on a beach trip with some friends. We were all excited to party and meet cute guys. It was me and two of my friends. We all shared a hotel room. A few rooms down we noticed a group of cute guys were staying. We started flirting with these guys one night, and they ended up drinking with us in our hotel room. One guy in particular was so cute to me. I flirted with him the whole time. At one point during the night he said he wanted to go back to their hotel room for a minute to get a bottle of liquor. I was very drunk by this time. He asked me if I wanted to go with him, and I agreed. It never crossed my mind that he was wanting something sexual. I seriously thought we were going to get the bottle and come right back. When we entered his room, he slammed the door behind us. He pushed me face down on the bed. I was wearing a skirt and he started to push it up. I yelled to him to stop. And he said “oh come on you know you want this you’ve been flirting all night. It will only take me a minute.” I literally froze in fear. I didn’t say another word. I laid there and took it. He finished and we went back. We didn’t speak the rest of the night. I hid in the bathroom and pretended to be sick until everyone left. We went home the following day. I have always blamed myself. I should have fought him. I should have screamed. I should have done something, anything. But I just laid there. I’m now 25 and it still haunts me. I never even knew his name.
— Survivor, age 25