I Didn’t Report It

July 10th. Normal day. Normal plans. Plans to sit and chill out on my couch. Plans to have fun with my best friend in the next couple days. It was a normal good night. It was fun. It was relaxing. About midnight that night a good friend had stopped by. He was just wanting to hang out watch a movie or something. At least that’s what I thought he had wanted to do. We had been fuck buddy’s for a while, four years at that point. Casual and fun at times but he knew I’d like to step it up and possibly get into a relationship. That was mistake number two of that night, thinking he only wanted to hang out. The first one was letting him into my apartment. By one we were watching a movie on Netflix. By two he was sitting next to me. And by three he had me in my room. I remember it all so vividly but it’s so blurry. He was stripping me, pulling my clothes off roughly while I tried to fight him off. The tears were gushing from my eyes and I was trying so hard to get him away from me.

He finally got my clothes off of me and had thrown me on my bed. Then he got on top of me and slapped me so hard that my face would be swollen for the next two days. In that breif moment of me being to surprised and in pain to do anything he penitrated me. Then he started thrusting and that’s when I tried my damn hardest to kick him off of me. But it didn’t work. He was to heavy and I was weak. Weak to let him do this to me. Weak to let someone I loved and trusted abuse me like that. Weak to not be able to stop it from happening.

Then he started to choke me. I fought harder and harder against him but the air wasn’t there. I couldn’t breath. And everything went dark. I came to to him slapping me again over and over trying to get me to wake up. It was so hard to focus on anything, anything except the pain. And I started crying again. He scoffed at me and told me to get myself cleaned up. So I did the stupidest thing I have ever done. I took a shower. I scrubbed and scrubbed till I was red and when I got out and dressed I found him waiting for me in the living room. Calm. Smiling even. He was proud of what he had done. And shortly afterwards he left.

The days following are blank almost, except for my best friend asking me multiple times what was wrong and for me to change the subject. I didn’t tell her what happened. I didn’t tell anyone. I was afraid that no one would believe me. That I would be called a liar and a slut. So I kept it to myself. Now months later I’m still traumatized. I moved my entire apartment around. Changed everything so nothing looked like it did when that night happened. I didn’t touch my couches for weeks following that night. I slept on the floor. I tried to never be home because I was scared he would come back. He deleted my number, my Snapchat, blocked my Facebook and Instagram. I did the same. But I also tried to warn his girlfriend. But she didn’t believe me. Because he had told her that I was a slut and a whore who would fuck anything that moved.

I told myself that it was my fault. I even became pregnant from it but lost it after a month. And, horrifyingly, I was happy I had lost the baby. Happy I wasn’t carrying that monsters baby. I can’t touch myself without feeling him and it makes me gag. I’m 19 I shouldn’t have been raped. I shouldn’t have let myself BE raped. But I did. And now I am terrified of going into public. Of hanging out with my guy friends. Of being alone with another male in general. Because I let myself be attacked. I’ve gotten into a relationship though surprisingly, but I told him I don’t think I would ever be ready again for sex. He knows what happened. So does my best friends and they all want to kill him for what he did. But I still blame myself. If I had been stronger. If I hadn’t let him into my home. If I hadn’t been so in love with him. I wouldn’t have been raped. If I hadn’t been such an idiot I would have reported it. But I didn’t. And now he’s out walking free. I’ve seen him a couple times. And my best friend has had to drive me home and stay with me till I was okay again. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

I should have reported it.