When I was 19, my body was used for the first time in ways that changed me forever.
I was really good friends with this one couple, A and M. We worked together, we went out dancing every weekend together. I was even planning on moving in with A in a few weeks because she wanted a break from living with her boyfriend M for now ( I know, who moves in and than out of their boyfriends house? Whatever, she was my friend and I need a new roomie). So when A went out of town to Big Valley, M joined my boyfriend W and I on Friday night at our go to club and it was dancing like normal. At the end of the night I drove my boyfriend home and then took M to his and A’s place. I had previously planned to spend the night there since we both had a work meeting early the next morning that I was going to drive us too.
They lived on the ground floor of an apartment building so when we walked up to the patio doors, his neighbors were out having drinks with the music blaring. We said our hi’s and headed on inside. M poured drinks for us and turned something on the tv, I can’t remember what. I just remember sitting on the couch having my first drink of the night, it was about 1 in the morning, and thinking I have to be at work at 8:30 and how much it sucks, and also how loud the neighbors music was that I could barely hear myself think.
And then outta nowhere, M leaned over and kissed me. Wooh, no! Oh common C, just a little bit, I’ve been wanting this for so long. Why do you think A is moving out? We’re not doing good. She knows I love you.
Ummm… No! I have a boyfriend and we’re doing just fine thank you very much. I’m truly sorry things aren’t working out for you guys but I’m not interested. I should leave. I went to stand up to go and that’s when my life changed. M grabbed me from behind and threw me on the floor before I even knew what he was doing. That’s when I started screaming. And hitting and biting and kicking… anything I could do to try and stop this. But M was bigger. And stronger. And a man who should’ve known better. He was on top of me straddling me in no time. Telling me he loved me, and that it was ok. Trying to kiss me. I kept screaming, but the music from next door was drowning out my calls for help. He dragged me by my elbow and hair down the hall to the spare room, where he literally picked me up like a rag doll, threw me on the bed and locked the door. He ripped my pants off and shoved his fingers in my vagina, talking about how much he loved me, and needed me. I’m frantically screaming and pushing away. He kept trying to kiss me until I threw up on the bed and he didn’t care. He just took his dick and shoved it in me. Over and over while I kicked and screamed and cried.
I had things inside my body that I didn’t want. I was used as a toy and degraded. I was humiliated and felt defeated. I had only had sex with one other man, my current boyfriend W before this, and I felt like I had betrayed him. I wanted someone to rush in and save me. I wanted time to stop. I wanted to die.
But instead he finished, and rolled over and slept. I managed to move off the other side of the bed to the floor. I was covered in vomit, blood, tears, snot, and semen. And I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t even cry anymore. All I could do was listen to the music from next door and the stupid sound of the caged mice on the desk. They were like me. Locked in a room. Running on their wheel. We both just wanted to get away. All night. Those mice were the only witnesses to what had happened, and to this day, seeing a mouse brings back every evil moment of that night. To the point I bought a snake so I could feed it live mice every week just to watch them die. Morbid? Yep. Helpful? Very.
I finally got my act together and snuck out about an hour or so later and drove straight to my boyfriend W’s place, where I told him what happened. He handled it so amazingly. He helped me shower and get into bed. He called work the next morning informing them I was unable to attend due to a family emergency. He offered advice, but never told me what I should do. He came with me to the clinic to get tested for all those wonderful STI’s. And he held me. He just held me. I never cried about it after the fact, and W understood that. But he still knew that I wanted to be held and feel safe. And he always did that for me. He never got mad when I said I didn’t want to press charges. I told him I didn’t want to have to be dealing with M or the whole situation for however many months/years to come, considering we worked together and everyone knew us both at work. I basically just wanted to pretend it never happened. Denial, its what I do, that’s how I operate. And W was ok with whatever I wanted. He recommended certain things that were best for me for sure. But never pushed me into something I wasn’t comfortable with.
Unlike some “men” who think if they say “I love you” then they can fuck you no matter what.
-Red Hot Chili Peppers/Under the Bridge-