He was my friend who always answered the phone, convinced his 2 other roommates to let me move in after I was evicted from my apartment, rolled blunt after blunt when I couldn’t bear the thought of being sober and alone. He was the guy who loved me in secret and dealt with my relationship drama over and over. So, of course, he put me to bed that early morning after I jumped off a balcony of a shitty motel and a friend brought me back to his place. Of course, everyone trusted him to do this. I was out of it long before I was carried to bed. I remember nothing from that night, much less anything from that early morning.
But I do remember getting out of his bed, crying and still drunk, as I slowly realized that something was not okay. Someone had taken off my shorts. There was dried cum on my stomach and vagina. I had obviously been with a guy last night. I had bruises all over (jumping off motels will do that to you).
I asked all my male roommates and a guy who had crashed with us if I had fucked them. No’s all around.
I kept asking for information on what I had did while drunk and slowly pieced my night together, yet no one had known why I was naked and had cum on me. They thought I was making it up or just wrong. Typical guys, to blame a woman for speaking up.
Days later his brother told me that I was in my friend’s room all night and that no one was saying that they fucked me so I was basically wrong and no one had fucked me.
So I asked my friend over Facebook if he had sex with me when I was passed out that night in his bed. Here was his reply, word for word:
“Yes. And I regret doing it. What I did was really messed up and I am very ashamed of myself. I’m very sorry and I know that won’t change what I did, but it will weigh on my conscience for a long time and that is nowhere near the punishment I deserve for what I did…”
I was raped that night. I have no real memory of it, no argument for any lawyers that would throw up my abuse of drugs and alcohol as a defense against me and not to mention my sexual history. In the eyes of my friends, I am making it up even though he admitted it. I was kicked out of the house (fine by me I wasn’t going to stay there anyways) and lost all of my friends just because I dared to say that I was raped. No one takes what happened to me seriously, so why would I go to court just to make a fool out of myself? To speak out against rape culture? To prove that just like the rape case with Brock Turner, the guy will get off trial with no real justice? No, I won’t go through some trial that may or may not go nationwide just so I can get treated the same way my friends treated me from the rest of America. I will speak out against rape culture and rape until the day I die, though. I will protest and try to reason with those around me about why rapists are bad no matter what their status or what the situation is or if the girl was wearing booty shorts. Rape is rape and there is no excuse or apology that can make it okay for the victim.
Because of one guy, my life is forever impacted. I am the one who wears shame and guilt from that night. He gets to walk around and laugh and live his life as if nothing happened. He believed that sorry was enough to take away the damage he caused. He forgot about me. He was protected from our mutual friends because I had to be a liar to accuse him of rape. I showed them the messages where he admitted it and I was shunned because they thought it was best if I just went away and shut up about it. I was told to drop it and to not tell others what happened to me. They protected him because I dared to expose the truth.
I smell him in the air around the places we hung out at and my heart beats double. I hear his voice in the grocery store and I freeze in panic. I hear my friends mention his friends in the latest gossip and I want to scream. I text friends trying to make plans and when they are with him I immediately delete them from my phone. I haven’t heard from him since I asked him, yet he is controlling me every single goddamn day and I am too weak to overpower the hold he has on my mind. He stole a part of me and ever since then I haven’t been whole.
I refuse to stay silent until I can get everyone to scream at the injustice of what our society does to rape victims. I refuse to deny what happened and pretend like everything is okay. If I were your girlfriend, or daughter, sister, or wife you would be furious too. But here’s the thing, I could be those things. Rape can affect anybody and everybody, and if we don’t start helping the victims then the rapists win. Stop rape culture and start stopping the rapists.