Testimony by Leah
How do I begin to tell my story? It has been 5 and a half years since the beginning of my story took place, and I still don’t know how to begin. You never think you could be abused and violated by a friend so badly, but you can. Friends can rape friends. And that is exactly what happened to me.
I decided to go to party at my friend’s house with a couple of my girl friends, and was ensured a safe ride home by one who was not going to drink. After what I remember to only be two or three glasses of white wine, I walked into my friend’s bedroom to check on him. He and I had known each other for one year and in the course of that year we had gotten very close…so close that he had developed feelings for me. I had told him a few times that the feelings were not reciprocated in that way and that I valued our friendship but did not want to date him. I have to admit, there were times when hanging out with friends that our fun conversations led to flirting back and forth. I felt bad about that after hearing that he had feelings for me, and tried to go on with our friendship without the awkward drama. But here we were, together in his room. That is the last thing I remember before having my clothes ripped off.
I had blacked out. Perhaps it was the wine or the shock of what was happening or a combination of the two, but I cannot for the life of me remember what happened from the time I got into his room to the time I was naked on the bed. He was forceful and far from kind. It was excruciatingly painful…I was a virgin. He was so determined to get into me that he had no care for my body. I was pushed up against the wall, hitting it with my head. He wielded my body to and fro, trying to get in while on top, bottom, or with his finger…any way just to get the job done. The horror of these bits and pieces of memories went on for hours, until suddenly out of nowhere I felt aware of my surroundings and what was happening to me. It was almost as if I had sobered up the second he finally got in me. I shrieked in horror at what was happening, told him to get off of me, and ran to the bathroom completely naked (luckily he had one connected to his room). As I sat in pain on the toilet seat I started saying over and over, “what have I done?” After I wiped and saw the blood, I really freaked out and told my “friend” that I needed to go home. He tried to get me to stay with him but I was dressing faster than I ever had before in my life. My girl friend then drove me home.
He had got his revenge in a horrific way. I lay awake the whole night in shock and disbelief. I was bruised from head to toe. My inner thighs were so sore that I could barely get up the stairs without wincing. I had hickies on my breasts, lips, and neck that were so purple I had to wear turtle necks (it was September) and layers of makeup. I had nightmares every night. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I thought of before I went to bed. My “friend” made an effort to wait for me outside my classes, take me to lunch, and text me almost every day. I was afraid of him and didn’t know why! When I got out of my classes early I would bolt in the opposite direction and not text him back. He was trying to make me believe he was still my friend, and that he hadn’t raped me. Every time he was around I forced a happy face and tried to ignore my short breaths and shaking.
His presence was so horrible that 3 months later I packed my bags and moved 2.5 hours away. I was experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and didn’t know it.
It’s been a long road, but I now know (and believe) the truth of what happened that night. My old “friend’s” name is filed in his town’s police department. I learned a lot from what happened to me. I want to share with girls/women out there that they do not need to blame themselves for having sex when drunk. Alcohol is the number one form of date rape, and Hollywood does a disgustingly good job making women feel like no wrong is committed when alcohol and sex combine. The truth is that it’s not sex, it’s a crime even if you don’t say, “no”.