By Angelina
It’s been almost three years since the day you destroyed every essence of my being. A part of me always knew what kind of guy you were, and maybe that is why I still feel so much shame around what you did to me in your grandfather’s house. You see, you were my first everything.
My first boyfriend, my first kiss, the first boy who ever stuck their hand up my skirt, and many boyfriends and three years later, the first boy I had sex with. Not even three weeks after that you were the first boy who raped me.
I never thought that something like that would happen to me, but I knew your reputation. Hell, I knew the kind of man you were going to be when we were in eighth grade and you decided what was up my skirt was the most important thing about me. Maybe that was when I decided
my worth to men too.
It was New Year’s Eve 2016 when I really should’ve known what kind of guy you were. You had finally convinced me after weeks and weeks of wearing me down to go to your parents’ cabin. I knew what was going to happen when we got there and so did you. But I went anyway. I trusted that you had changed, you had seemed genuine and nice up until that day. I’ve always tried to see the best in people and maybe that’s what hurts me the most. While we were at that cabin one thing led to another and I was about to have sex for the very first time, but I got scared. I didn’t know if I was ready. So, I told you to wait, that I wasn’t sure. But you said, “It’s too late”
and that was that.
I went home that night and toasted to the New Year with my family, none of
us the wiser of what that year was to bring. After weeks of me convincing myself that’s just what sex is, that I would have to get used to it, (after all, that’s all I’ve ever been shown: hands up skirts and yoga pants in a crowded school cafeteria) you texted me. You told me that you wanted to talk, to apologize for my first time going the way it did. You said you still wanted to be friends, that you wanted to fix what had happened between us, so you asked if I could come over. Again, thinking that you had changed and were being genuine, I told my mom I was going to work and drove to your grandfathers where you were staying.
It was 6:20 in the morning and I was tired, but I parked my car and knocked on your door anyway. You opened the door in nothing but a pair of blue basketball shorts and asked if I wanted to watch a movie. Confused, I agreed, thinking that was your way of apologizing and showing me, you still wanted to be friends. So, we went to your room, sat on your bed, and watched the movie. But I fell asleep. I was tired and you took advantage of that. I woke up to you kissing on me, telling me that you missed me. You said, “I know what’ll wake you up.” I was still half asleep, but I told you to wait. Then I felt your hands slide to the button on my jeans, I tried to push your hand away, but you were too strong. I told you that I didn’t want to, to stop, but you didn’t.
You pulled off my pants and underwear, your shorts. You pinned my arms above my head with one hand, spread my legs apart with your knees, and used your other hand to guide yourself into me. All the while I repeatedly told you to stop, but you didn’t. I gave up. You weren’t listening to me and I was tired of fighting. I spent the next hour and 25 minutes staring at the
clock on your nightstand, silently crying, and weakly trying to get you stop.
To this day I’ll never forget the words you whispered in my ear before you finished: “your face is telling me no, but your body is telling me yes.” I felt as if my body had betrayed me. After you were done with me you rolled out of the bed, smiled at me, and asked me if I wanted to take a shower with you to clean up. As if you just now remembered that I was a person and not a body to use. I told you I was tired, and you left to take a shower.
I laid in that bed and cried quietly, blaming myself for not being strong enough. Telling myself that it wasn’t your fault, that it was mine because I fell asleep in your bed. I quickly got dressed before you came back, you took a short shower; probably scared that I was going to leave. Did you think about what you had done to me? Did you feel any remorse at all? Did you remember that I used to be your friend?
I was about to leave when you came back and asked if I wanted breakfast. I didn’t want you to feel bad or hurt your feelings, as if somehow agreeing to breakfast with you meant nothing happened. When we walked out of your room, we ran into your grandfather and he said, “sounded like you two had fun in there,” and winked at you. I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what his grandson did to me, if he would’ve been proud, if he would’ve just shrugged it off and called me crazy. But nonetheless I smiled at him and drove us to a nearby burger king. We went inside and you ordered your breakfast. When you ordered I couldn’t help thinking that the
cashier knew, that everyone knew that I was an easy girl. I looked at the floor. When you got your food you scarfed it down, I didn’t eat anything. You acted like nothing happened, like I didn’t have bruises on my thighs or arms from you.
I dropped you back off at your grandfathers and drove home. That day I went with my parents to the hospital to visit my grandma because she was sick, not that you would’ve known. I wore jeans and a hoodie, making sure to cover any possible markings, and I hugged my grandma in a body that wasn’t my own. Nobody noticed or asked me how I was doing so I never told a soul.
Two weeks later I was out with my friends when you texted me and said that you were sorry, you begged me not to report you. You promised you’d never do it again, I believed you, so I never reported you. Besides, who would’ve believed a girl who kept going back to the same guy that hurt her? Though, my best friend found out the next week when we were camping because the smell of his cologne made me freak out. He begged me to tell someone, but I never did, and he never wore that cologne again.
I ran into you last year at the dollar store in town with my boyfriend at the time. I hadn’t seen you since the incident and I dropped everything that was in my arms on the store floor. I quickly tried to pick them up, but I kept dropping them. You smiled at me and walked away. Do you remember that? That day I became a shell again though my boyfriend did his best to calm me down. Even though it has been nearly three years I still turn a light on at night to remind myself that I’m not in that room again. I’ve learned though that it wasn’t my fault what you did to me.
You were greedy and felt entitled to a body that was not your own. It’s not my fault that I wake up in a cold sweat every January, it’s not my fault I still can’t fall asleep until 5am, and it’s not my fault that I can’t lay with another man yet. I just hope that one day you will stop running from the person you are, that you’ll face it and get help. I hope that one day God will show you mercy and forgive you because I know that I can’t yet.