I wrote this out several months ago, to share specifically with one person. I never intended on it going any farther than that, but I feel like it’s important that it does. This is not an account of my entire past experiences….this is one incident that accounted for just a tiny amount of time in my life….what seemed like hours at the time was surely only minutes, though I never thought it would end. A moment that I should have been able to have a say in. A moment that I should have been able to have as a positive, and probably awkward, memory. But instead, I remember it as the night I had my innocence stolen from me.
He was the older brother of a guy I liked. I was 14 and a virgin. The farthest I’d ever gone was getting fingered in a car. I was there for a party. He had been trying to flirt with me all night, and was getting pretty pissed that I was giving my attention to his brother. He was at least 21 at the time.
I went inside to go to the bathroom, when I came back out he was standing in his bedroom doorway. He asked me to come in his room, I told him no. I started to go back outside and he stepped in front of me and blocked the hallway. When I tried to get past him he grabbed my hair and pulled me He threw me down on the floor and already had his penis out before I knew what was happening. I tried to yell, so he tried to put it in my mouth to shut me up. When I wouldn’t open my mouth he sat me up and slammed my head into his dresser. Over and over until I opened my mouth. He kept me against the dresser, and slammed so hard into my mouth that he made my throat bleed. When i would gag, he just did it harder. And once he was tired of that he turned me onto my stomach…He got in front of me and put it in my mouth again, got behind me and I tried to keep my hands in his way…I kicked…I screamed…it didn’t matter…He got what he wanted. He slammed my head into the floor every time he pushed inside me, and was so rough that I lost enough blood that I almost passed out.
At one point he acted like he was going to put a knife inside me. He hit me…he left me bloody on the floor and then walked away like nothing happened. There was only one bathroom in that house…I heard people walk back and forth past his room. I don’t know how many people heard me scream, but nobody did anything. I walked down the road clothes torn, bloody and beaten until my friends mom picked me up. Not a single person that drove by stopped to see if I needed help.
And before anyone asks, no…I did not report it. What was the point? Even the people that were there didn’t do anything to stop it…There were at least 30 people in that house that saw me. Not a single person even acknowledged me. There were at least another 30 outside. I walked straight through them and no one did a single fucking thing. They didn’t ask why I had blood dripping down my thighs…they didn’t ask why my clothes were torn and bloody…hell, no one even questioned why I was walking down the road in the dark. Nobody cared about what had just happened to me, and all I wanted to do was forget.
But we never really forget, do we? I remember the way he tasted…the way he smelled…I remember how it felt to gag when he was inside my mouth…i remember that I felt like I was being ripped open…I remember the way the blood felt as it ran down my legs…I remember the way that it smelled. And most of all, I remember walking out of that house, but it was almost like I wasn’t in my body….like I was watching myself from somewhere else.
I’ve seen him a handful of times since then, and each time leads to days of panic and anxiety attacks….he found me once on Facebook and messaged me, telling me that he missed me and that we needed another night together. The guy I was dating at the time laughed and said that he must have enjoyed himself if he wanted more.
It’s been more than 18 years, and I still see his face when I close my eyes. Not every night, like I used to….but even one night is one too many.