When I was seventeen, a group of friends (including my ex boyfriend)
wnet out for drinks. We always went out for drinking picnics in the
park and it was the summer holidays.We drank all day and late
afternoon he offered to take me and a friend back to one of this
friend’s houses. I agreed.
The whole day he can been trying to get me alone, to kiss me, but it
wasn’t the first time he’d been like that towards me and I thought I
could handle it. Usually, I wemt home by myself or with a friend but
this night me and my friend went back to this other place with him.
We were all drunk and we carried on drinking, and he carried on trying
to get me alone and corner me. One of the times I got away from him,
my sleeve rolled back and he saw my self-harm scars/ He totally lost
it, swearing and shouting in my face, demanding why, he was so drunk
and so angry and I was afraid. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged
me back into the kitchen where everyone else was, a room full of
strangers, and he asked them all the feel my scars and tell me I was
stupid.  It made me feel sick.
I didn’t want to be around anyone after that, so I took myself off
into one of the bedrooms and lied down on the floor without turning
the light on. I think there were sleeping bags on the floor and I
found something to sleep on. I hadn’t brought anything to change into
so I slept in my clothes, black cargos and one of those ‘goth’ shirts
with offensive words on, bitch slut whore etc. I don’t know why I
decided to wear it. Obviously, I was asking for it. Offering it.
I can still hear the others in the kitchen as I fall asleep. I realise
suddenly that I don’t know where I am. The house, The street, Even the
town. I start to feel stranded and trapped. I want to go home but I
can’t so I have to stay there.
I’d been asleep and the sound of someone else coming into the room
wakes me up. I turn and in the light I see it’s him. I close my eyes
and turn back to sleep. He comes over to me and shakes me awake. He
starts whispering into my ear. He’s incredibly drunk and stinks of
vodka. I still feel drunk myself and I’m still upset from earlier and
I just want to sleep.
He kneels down next to my face and tries to kiss me. I turn away
again. He starts to touch me on top of my clothes and I know he wants
to have sex with me so I turn and tell him ‘I don’t want sex with
you’. I can hear him taking his clothes off, he’s pissed and clumsy
and tells me he can’t get it up but that it’s okay because we can do
other things. I tell him again to leave me alone.
My clothes are too big for me and he pulls them down easily, I hardly
notice feeling colder, but then I feel his hands inside me and asks
#do you like that’ I don’t speak. I just try to move away. But I don’t
know what to do. He’s somehow paralysed me with fear. I feel his hands
again, his mouth, the smell of vodka. I will myself to pass out and
shut off. The room is in darkness and yet it is topo light. I forget
what’s real and what’s not. Like being in a nightmare that you can’t
wake up from or act out.  I feel him on stop of me and the rest is
darkness. I am stuck there, frozen. I could have pushed him off but I
didn’t./ I could have screamed and shouted byt I didn’t. I could have
locked the door bit I didn’t.
He got off me, rearranged my clothes and left without saying anything.
I went to sleep and when I woke up I found the others around him,
kicking him because he wouldn’t wake. His sister started to yell at
me, telling me it was my fault he was so drunk. I found the friend I
came with and who’s dad could give us a lift home. My body hurt, I was
in pain, I tried to block it all out but my body hurt despite it.
Everything felt like a dream, a blur, strange, and that hasn’t changed
till this day. I still feel that dreamy disconnection with the world.
When I arrived home, I showered and my mum said she could smell vodka
on me. I smelt of him. I went to my own bed and slept for days.
I put it down to a drunken mistake. My own fault more than his. And
then I got a voicemail on my phone from him where he said he was sorry
and couldn’t live with what he’d done and was going to kill himself. I
thought it was my fault. I couldn’t do anything. He stopped answering
calls. A year later, he sent me an email that said he’d moved on with
his life and that the past was in the past. I’d been blaming myself
thinking he’s killed himself, I’d been blaming myself about what he
did to me and Ihated myself. It was all my fault.

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