Details of a night she will never forget are sketchy. Bits and pieces are forever scarred in her mind.
She remembers taking her older sisters ID out of her wallet, because she was going to try to get into a club with some friends. She remembers the clothes she picked out for that night. All black and skin-tight.
They got to the club and she showed the bouncer her sisters ID. The guy looked at the ID and then at her, the look he gave her, she knew that he knew it wasn’t her. He let her in anyway. Everyone got it. She remembers drinking a little bit, she did not get drunk, but was feeling good. She danced most of the night with a guy she knew from school. She does not remember if he was already there, or if he was in the group of friends that went. For some reason she remembers dancing to one specific song, a song forever etched in her memory to the later events that took place that night.
They all left together to a girlfriends house. Next thing she knew she was in her friend’s room with the guy she had been dancing with all night. They were fooling around, she was not comfortable and not sure why she did not stop. He started removing her clothing, she did not stop him. She knew what was about to happen. She then told him that she was a virgin, which he did not believe. She was pinned down as he forcefully entered her. It was one of the worse pains she had felt, physically and emotionally. She wanted him to stop, and tried pushing him off of her and kept saying no! no! stop! He was twice her size, she was not able to push him off or make him stop. He did not stop until he was done. She does not know why she didn’t scream instead of just saying no, stop. Her friends were in the other room. She could have yelled, and maybe they would have come in to stop what was happening. But she did not yell. She got dressed and left the room and asked to be dropped off at home. She did not tell anyone what actually happened. They knew what happened, just not in the actual way it happened. She remembers sitting in the back seat feeling so alone, so lost, so empty, ashamed, dirty, guilty and embarrassed. So much was racing through her mind. She was crying as she walked in the door to her home, her mother was there and asked her what was wrong. She quickly came up with a lie, there was no way she was going to tell her mother what had just happened.
She went straight to her room, and then began the self-hatred and blame. It was her fault. She was dressed a certain way and was acting a certain way, she was asking for it. She did not stop him when it all started. It wasn’t until he entered her that she wanted it to stop. So it was all her fault. She could have screamed, she could have been more forceful.
The guy took it upon himself to tell everyone that he “popped her cherry”, the word spread around school like a wildfire. From then on she was labeled a “slut”. She wonders if it would have made a difference had she told anyone what actually happened. She figured she would be told it was her fault anyway, that she knew what she was doing by dressing and acting they way she did that night. So she never bothered confiding in anyone.
She never spoke a word of what took place behind those doors that night to her friends, or anyone for that matter. She lived in shame. Until now… over 20 years later…
She still questions that entire night. Was it her fault? Was it partly her fault? Doubts remain in her mind. Yet, if something like this happened to another person, she would not doubt it at all. She would say, it wasn’t her fault and that was in fact raped.