I don’t have the time or money to see a therapist, so my next best option is to write what I can’t say out loud. I don’t know what happened on Thursday night exactly. It started out so innocently. He picked me up at nine, and we drove around the countryside watching the sunset. I had been told that our other close friends were going to watch the stars a little after ten in an old ball field, so he and I parked his truck near it in an attempt to scare them when they got there. We had large fireworks we were going to set off, so the plan was going well… until it got dark outside and our conversation started to fade.
He scooted closer to me, so naturally I ignited nervous chatter until I got a text saying that our friends would be an hour late to the ball field. I read him the text message when he leaned in and kissed me halfway through my sentence. I didn’t mind it, even though kissing my best guy friend threw me off guard. He’s a good kisser. But then it started to escalade. He pulled me over onto his lap, and the kissing got heated. He asked if I wanted to go to the backseat, and all I could think of was relieving the nerve in my hip that was starting to pinch from sitting on him. Now I see how naive that was. So we crawled into the backseats and continued making out, when he suddenly ripped his shirt off. Again I didn’t think anything of it, the truck was getting steamy. So I unbuttoned my shirt and kept kissing him (I did have a camisole on under my shirt, for the record).
I was perfectly content just kissing him until he pulled me on top of him and whipped his penis out. I sat back confused, and he pulled my hand onto it. He was getting aggressive and I should’ve said no or pushed him away or something!! But I just did it, and I don’t know why. I mean we were in the middle of nowhere next to the woods at night, and he was my only ride home for at least an hour. Maybe I didn’t think I had a way out, I don’t know. I stopped and just tried kissing only, but he pushed my head down and made me do it until I started gagging. He turned me around, pulled my back to his chest, and started running his hands up my shirt. I’m not gonna lie he knew what he was doing, but I wasn’t ready and he didn’t ask. He shoved his hands down my pants and I knew it had to stop. But all I could say was that I was on my period. And what did he do? He asked if I was sure I was on my period, stuck his hand down my pants again, and kept doing it to the point where it hurt me. I’d gasp from the pain, but I think he thought I was enjoying it. Then he pushed me onto my back and started humping me. It was so uncomfortable, and the pain in my hip was unbearable. I just wanted it to end. Instead, he told me to roll onto my stomach so he could hump me as hard as he could. I just stared into the darkness until it stopped, then he got off of me and opened up the door to let air in. I opened my door too and hopped outside. Luckily it was almost eleven and our friends would be there soon. I pulled my camisole back down, buttoned up my shirt, and fastened the buckle of my belt. I felt like a slut, I felt dirty, but I didn’t feel mad at him. After all, I was too scared to tell him to stop, and too scared to say he was hurting me. So what happened to me was my fault. Even though I didn’t say yes, I definitely didn’t say no. And I hate myself for it. So I won’t call it rape. I wasn’t a victim, I was a silent coward.
We lit the fireworks off when our friends arrived, talked to them for a little while, and left. He apologized on snapchat after he dropped me back off at home, because I seemed upset. So I told him that I could’ve said stop but I didn’t. And that’s the cold, hard truth. I got in the shower and scrubbed my body until my skin was red, but two days and two showers later I still feel like a slut, I still feel dirty, and I can’t tell anyone what happened. I mean, I didn’t technically have traditional sex, so that’s another reason why I won’t call it rape. All my clothes stayed on, he just found his way under them. I won’t see him for a while anyways, he’s going into the army for basic in a week or so. But that’s the story of how I half-lost my virginity and haven’t told anyone, and that’s how Thursday changed everything. The shame is too much to handle.