Victim Strong

Well, yesterday I wrote a post in response to a one word prompt from the Community Pool. I have to say that it was a success. I have about seven or eight likes and people seem to be reading my blog, which is a good feeling.I am hoping this story will reach some people today.

You know those nights when one minute you are exhausted from the events of the day and next you are staring at you ceiling cursing your over active brain? That me was last night. I tried everything from counting to 100 to focusing on my breath as if I was meditating. Nothing worked. So I just laid there and let my brain cycle through the thoughts, figuring eventually I would drop off to sleep.

Somehow, in the mist of the the thought cycle I was in a memory. A memory I have tried too hard to stuff into a tiny box and store in the creepy basement so no one would go looking for it. I watched the scene play out as if I had hit the fast forward button on a remote. Just as swiftly has it had invaded my thoughts, it was over.

Let me be clear. I am not writing this out because I want sympathy or attention. As a matter of fact, these are two of the reasons I kept my mouth shut for so long.


I can’t tell you how old I was when I learned to tie my shoes or how old my cat is. But I do remember I was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, a pair of light wash jeans, and converse sneakers. I remember laughing and spending time with my new friend group before I got so drunk it was hard for me to stand by myself,  but not so drunk that I was going to forget the events of the night like he had hoped I would.

There was Reggie, a guy I knew from high school,  Josh, he was 21 and our alcohol supplier, Cole, I guy I was having a fling with, and Peter, he was loud and kinda cute in the dorky way. There were a few girls, but they didn’t drink and they were kinda snobby so I didn’t really hang out with them much.

It was a Friday night and I had passed a major test in one of the classes. I knew that if I handed Josh a 20, he would give me a fifth of Fireball whiskey. Jake and Josh were roommates and Reggie lived in the room across the hall from Jake and Josh. At first we were all chilling in Jake’s and Josh’s room, just watching movies and talking smack about people we didn’t like. An hour and not half a bottle later, it was just me, Jake, and Peter. I was the only one that was drunk.

It was around midnight when I proclaimed I had to piss. Jake was taking a quiz online so the job was left to Peter. He picked me up by sliding his hands under my arms, helped me gain balance, and walked me out the door. The girls restroom was up a flight of steps, which he helped me navigate. After finishing my business we were on our way back to the room when we ran into an RA (Residential Adviser), who was kind enough to inquire if I was doing ok, then went about her way.

When we reached the bottom of the steps, that’s when I felt his hand sliding from my waist, where he was helping to support me, up to my breast. I pushed it away, thinking maybe he hadn’t noticed, as I was finding it hard to stand and most of my weight was on him anyway. But he did notice. He knew exactly what he was doing. As we rounded a corner to go back to the guys hall, he shoved me against a wall, his hand cupping both of my breast, and his bulge pressed into my lower back. It happened to fast I didn’t have time to respond before he yanked me off the wall and was practically dragging me back to Jake’s room.

Unfortunately for me, the door was unlocked and Jake had finished his online quiz. Peter pulled me inside the dark, empty room and closed the door. I was dizzy and light headed and all I wanted to do was lay down.

“I think I will just go to bed now…” I managed to say in the slurred language of drunk girl.

Peter insisted that I climb to the top bunk because the bottom bunk had vomit on it. Well I didn’t want to spend the night in vomit, so I unsteadily climbed to the top bunk, Peter held me from behind so that I didn’t fall. At least that’s what I thought he was doing.

Once we were both at the top, Peter slipped past me and laid down on his back. Next he grabbed me by the upper arm and on top of him so that was I was laying on my back between his legs. He pinned me down by wrapping his legs around mine and shoving my hands under this thighs. Then he lifted my shirt, yanked down my bra and started foundling me.

I was intoxicated, yes, but as soon as I realized I was pinned down, I sobered up enough to  firmly tell him “NO.” and “Stop”. I wiggled around, but was unable to free myself from his grip. The only thing he said to me was “Shhhh. Just let it happen.” As if I would enjoy it if I laid still and let him take advantage of my body.

I did not “just let it happen.” I fought back to the point I was practically screaming. When his hands went a little too far south, I started bucking and struggling harder and yelling louder. He didn’t like that. So he flipped me over, grabbed my hair and shoved his cock in my mouth. He moved my head up and down by pulling my hair. Once I started doing the motions myself, he let go of my hair, but his hand remind, a reminder that if I didn’t keep going he was going to make me finish.

When he was done, he made me swallow then jumped form the bed and left the room. I just laid there and cried.

The last time I saw him I hugged him and he watched me carefully, watching to see if I would remember what he had done. Watching to see if I would break when I saw him. I didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Some of you reading this will blame me for getting drunk around a bunch of guys. But this “bunch of guys” were supposed to be my friends. Am I supposed to be on guard against sexual assault with people I am supposed to trust? Is everyone that drinks to be publicly shamed because that want to loosen up on the weekends? We need to stop blaming the victim for other people not being able to control their actions. I say “people” because sexual assault and rape happens to both men and women.

I wasn’t wearing any low cut clothing, I had never made advances toward this man. He simply saw a girl too inebriated too fight back and took advantage of that. How is that my fault? How is that ever the victim’s fault?

I later learned that he had bragged about his conquest to his friends, declaring it was constitutional. I heard from one of our mutual friends that he thought Peter and I were having rough sex or else he would have come to stop it. My advice to any one that ever reads this. If you even think someone is being hurt or taken advantage of, please do everything in your power to stop it. I was one of the lucky ones. He didn’t ruin my life. He made it difficult for a long time, that is true, but some how I found the courage to get through it. So many men and women are not as lucky as myself.

The only thing I regret in life is not reporting him, not saying something to someone sooner. There is no telling who else this man has hurt. Though I may not know you, to all of you out there that have been treated this way by this man or any other man or woman, just know I love you and am with you.

-Girl Y



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