2012: My Stolen Summer

Written Anonymously     (CW: sexual assault)

I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. I screamed, I kicked. He did not stop! The more I resisted, the more I screamed: “NO!” the more he kept going. It felt as though my screams were encouraging him. So I stopped. I lay there and I let it happen. Hoping, praying, that it would end fast. Finally, he got up from on top of me, panting, and ran to the bathroom, where I assumed, he finished. I just lay there. Trying to remember how I let this happen, how I let it get so far. 

Why did I believe him when he said my sister was right behind us? Why did I let him walk me into the hotel room alone? How did he get on top of me? Inside of me? How? Why did I drink so much? Even if it was my birthday, why did I drink so much? Maybe if I hadn’t, this would not have happened. He would have been home, with his kids, my sweet little cousins. And I would be with my sister, safe. He came back into the room, and he cuddled me. As if what just happened was okay. Normal. I rolled to my side, pulled my knees towards my chest and froze. I did not know what to do. Was this normal? Was this what people called rape? Wasn’t it supposed to happen with a stranger in a dark place? No, it couldn’t be. I could not have been raped. Not by him. Just not possible. I was brought back from my thoughts by a sensation of something trickling down my thigh. I got up and went to the bathroom. Upon inspection, I found that I was bleeding, heavily. I asked him to take me to my sister, to take me home. He complied, and remained silent the entire time…  

I did not tell my sister, I could not. I did not know what to say. How would I say it?  

“Our uncle took me to a hotel room, I walked inside voluntarily, and I lay on the bed, thinking he would come to get you, and then… then… he did something to me…” 

Was I supposed to call it sex? Was it sex? I did not know. I had been avoiding sex because I wanted my first time to be with someone I was in love with. I never, ever, not even in my worst nightmares thought my first time would be so… shameful. So uninvited. 

There was a silver lining if such things existed. In a few days, I would leave to go to college across the ocean in the United States. And with any luck, I would NEVER have to tell anyone about what happened. I would never have to see his face again. And maybe, just maybe, I could forget it. I could erase that awful night from my memories. 

It is now many years later, and I still have nightmares about that night: I can still smell his cologne, and on worse nights, I can still feel his hands on my body.