I am the youngest of 6, and at the time I was to go to mandatory college, the elder 5 either had or were working on Master’s or PhD in various fields.
I can only say that a stunningly easy Senior year was bringing me to a 3.0
I applied all over, with my father’s blessing, and with a shoebox getting loaded with rejections, I gained one surprise acceptance at a higher grade institution than I expected.
I didn’t belong there, and I knew it.
By midterms, I was struggling in a couple of classes. I was asked to a professor’s office to discuss my performance.
I just wished that he would expel me, so I could avoid wetting myself.
He talked over my grades, and my background, and why I came here, and how I got to this point.
I made the mistake of admitting that I couldn’t go home in defeat.
He wandered around me in the chair, looking me all over, looking in my eyes, looking, looking.
I didn’t need an A in Biology to recognize a shark in action.
He wanted to help me succeed, and get a better grade, and impress my family.
I told myself he wanted to tutor me, until his hands running up my sides brushed my breasts.
At this point, I learned exactly what a deer in the headlights feels like.
I had to do what I had to do that he had me do.
I can honestly say that I don’t recall anything happening in his office.
That I was getting dressed on his couch and he was throwing out a condom doesn’t prove anything.
I was not too poor in Math that I can’t figure after the midterm, my average in his class was a miserable 47%.
Apparently, the new curve placed this as an A-, but doing well in the final could bring it up.
We were friends, he liked me, he gave me a break.
He wanted me to join him in the Poconos for the weekend, and he could discuss my other classes and professors.
I was networking, I was working the system, I was succeeding at all costs, I was doing what I had to, I was getting my average up.
It wasn’t like I had a vagina, and spread my legs to get ahead.
My GPA was good, my mood was not. After the first year, I changed schools.
I no longer needed the credits in Biology to pass.
I went through my 4 years, and then it all caught up with me.
He might have forced me the first time, used authority and my desperation to get a year worth, but when I looked in the mirror, that woman didn’t stop it.
She was found in a stairway, throwing up some half digested pills.
It was 2 days in the hospital, where my family flew out to be there.
I have been in the therapy unit for 2 years now, and most of what happened to me, happened to someone else.
I would say, I only wish, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
I could have dealt with a knife wielding masked stranger better than acquiescing to a command presence.
You are the Brave, I am still taking small steps.
— Janine, age 25