The house smelled of beer and sweat. I walked in with my friend, and we came to a consensus that we would not be here long.
But then I saw him.When our eyes met, I knew I would be here longer than I intended. The wine I had just finished was bubbling through me, and I found myself walking toward him.
In what felt like a split second, I was in the staircase with his lips against mine. His hands wandered down my waist until they were resting on my butt. I couldn’t help but move closer to him.
He said to come to the bedroom with him.
I hesitated. I couldn’t leave my friend, but I also knew she had a friend here, so I knew she would be OK.
So I went with him.
Our lips met again, and I lay on the bed with him hovering over me.To view more videos, visit our Multimedia page.“I want to fuck you. Let me fuck you,” he said.
I should have seen this coming. I’m not stupid. I know what happens behind closed doors. But yet, I was surprised when he uttered those words.
I stared at the wall, contemplating if I was ready to lose it. After years of being ridiculed for still being a virgin, I came up with my answer.
It felt like minutes, but only seconds had passed by the time I said yes. I told him he had to be gentle.
It happened so quickly. I blinked, and we were both undressed. He rolled on a condom, and it happened.
Not even thirty seconds in, I knew I had to stop. He wasn’t gentle. I knew I couldn’t do it.
“No, stop. I can’t do this,” I said.
He ignored me. He kept going. I repeated myself but louder. He said it was going to hurt before forcing himself all the way into me.
I gasped and felt tears prick my eyes. He wasn’t listening to me. He wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
I was being raped.
Yes, I was drunk. Yes, I went willingly into the room with him. Yes, I gave the OK to have sex. But I am allowed to change my mind. I am allowed to say “no” and “I want to stop.”
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and I thought it was over after he pulled out.
I was half-dressed when he pulled me down on top of him. He told me to suck him off. I said “no”, but he pushed my head down until my mouth touched him.
I wanted to cry.
It took me a few seconds before I got up and finished getting dressed.
As I was putting my shirt on, I remember him saying how this wasn’t fair because he didn’t finish. But, I ignored him.
He invited me back later that night to “fuck me again.” I merely nodded my head before I walked out the door.
What crime shows, like Law and Order SVU don’t show are the days following the assault. I find myself crying at times during the day with my mind replaying the scene over and over 24/7. I can still feel his hands on my breasts. I can still see the mark he left on my neck even though it has vanished.
I felt so alone, even with my friends and family behind me. I was filled with guilt and was so disappointed in myself. My head fills with the “what ifs” when I’m trying to sleep. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone in the room. What if I didn’t have a drink before seeing him?
Would have that changed anything?
We hear “rape” on campus and in the news frequently, and we think it would never happen to someone we are close to. But then, it does. I never saw myself in this position, but here I am. It sucks. It is still in my mind, and it will be for a while.
I was raped, and I am slowly coming to terms with it. The only thing that gets me through the day is that it wasn’t my fault and that I said “no.” No means no whenever you say it.
Email Samantha Stahl at firstname.lastname@example.org