An Open Letter to My Rapist

Warning it has some details

Advertisements

Y

Dear Nightmare,

My mother taught me from a young age to be careful of my actions. To think about situations and know when it is time to utilizes resources to get out of the uncomfortable situations.

My mother and father both taught me that alcohol can be fun, but dangerous. They allowed me to experience my limit without being in danger. They taught me that it was dangerous to drive intoxicated or get in a car with an intoxicated driver. They taught me that there were dangerous people, that there are people who are willing to take advantage of intoxicated young women. I was told to watch my drink, to cover my drink, to never leave my drink even if it was with a friend. Always, to get a new drink when I felt unsure.

Before I was of the age to drink, legal age being 18, I would have drinks with friends at parties. Though, these parties were supervised by parents…. mostly because our parent were all friends. We were safe, never allowed to over drink. I knew when it was time to quit and go to bed. I knew I was still in charge of my own thoughts. I was with people I grew up with and parents whom had been best friends since middle school. I was safe.

When I left for college at the age of 17, I didn’t forget the things they had told me. I was cautious. I thought I was still safe as long as I knew myself. Our college pub allowed people underage, but they were clearly marked and were unable to drink there if caught they were kicked out. It was mostly a place to dance, play pool and for the legal aged kids to drink.

That didn’t stop underage drinking within the residence. Although the school tried… with putting underaged kids in dry buildings, but teenagers will be teenagers. We all still found ways to have fun and alcohol was always a part of that.

Though one night I met you, I had seen you around but I wasn’t interested. You had been interested in dancing with one of my friends who was pretty drunk already. I had a couple drinks as well, but she had the ability to buy drinks being 19. I didn’t see you again that night. Although I don’t remember a whole lot, but I remember something felt wrong and I wanted to go home. I was going to leave the uncomfortable situations.

My roommate said that we left because of how I felt, and I can barely remember asking to leave. Apparently, you had been leaving as well. She remembered you from earlier and you seemed so nice. She told me that I had convinced her it was okay to go hang out with him, but she was tired. You convinced her I would be fine, I apparently smiled and sloppily nodded.

I don’t remember getting to his dorm, I don’t remember laying on his bed, but I do remember the feeling of being somewhat aware, but unable to move. I remember mumbling no as I felt your hand going down my pants. I know I continued to mumble no as my pants were pulled down with my underwear. I remember your mouth between my legs. I finally remember you trying to put yourself in me. I don’t remember why you stopped… or maybe you didn’t. That night there are things I am glad I can’t remember if they did happen but… at the same time what else happened… At some point, my eyes were trying to close and my ability to do anything was completely taken away.

Eventually, I struggled to open my eyes. I struggled to pull my clothes to decency. I collected my stuff and wobbled like I was absolutely trashed. I managed to stumble my way back to my dorm. Once I made it to my room I just remember mumbling and warmth. My roommate had stayed up because she had realized something and didn’t know what to do. She told me I cried.

I woke up the next morning full of dread, I showered with the hottest water I could get, feeling dirty. The more I scrubbed the more I thought I could get rid of the feeling of your hands, lips, tongue and teeth. I had hickeys on my inner thigh reminding me you were there. I blamed myself. I was too drunk. I lead you on. I allowed you to have access to my body. It was my fault I forgot everything my parents taught me in that moment. I was constantly reminded about what little I did remember

From a young age, I had suffered a lot of negative impacts. From there I learned that everything that happened to me was of my own making. My fault. I had yet to realize that everything that happened wasn’t my fault and there were some situations in life that were out of my control.

I blamed myself.

I was too drunk.

I lead you on.

I allowed you to have access to my body.

It was my fault I forgot everything my parents taught me in that moment. I was constantly reminded about what little I did remember by seeing your face on campus. I was scared. It was a secret between my best-friend/ roommate and myself.

I felt disgusted with myself, felt unlovable.

I couldn’t sleep, I could barely focus, but I tried my best to forget about you. To forget about what happen. To forget about us having sex….

It took a long time to realize that wasn’t sex.

It took a long time for my best friend to not rip herself apart blaming herself for allowing me to go. To this day she still apologizes, when we had no idea how to react to a situation we never thought would happen to ourselves.

You had no right to do what you did when I could barely move and when I mumbled no over and over again.

I said No… I remember that clearly

I did not consent.

To this day I still blame myself, I get nervous at bars and become scared of drunk men. I havent even been able to tell my boyfriend of four years the details… In fear that he will look at me differently… Or see me as dirty.

I have yet to open up to my family for I lack the words… Its been almost five years and you…

Still haunt me….

Sincerely,

The Anxious Girl

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s