And They Called Me Whore

The next few hours of that night were blurs, waking up to a guy there by me on top feeling me. I only have flashes of images of this. I remember saying no and pushing and trying to get up. I felt sick, whether from the alcohol or from him, either way I was sick. I kept pushing only to be pinned down. I didn't scream because the next thing I knew it was black again.

I didn't wake up again until the morning. I could barely remember the night before. I had a few bruises and a headache. I found my clothes and images started to flood into my mind. All I wanted to do was sit down and bawl my eyes out. I felt dirty, and like I had broken myself. I kept trying not to cry as I found all my clothes thrown around the room. Many of them had been ripped up to the point of barely being able to wear. I quietly found the door to the room I was in and walked out. It took a minute to get my bearings. I was in someone else's house. One I had never been in. I found the front door and saw my friends car. I went and sat inside and waited.

It took about three hours for my friend to finally come out, laughing. She joked about last night and about me drinking and how I apparently had hooked up with the guy. I mumbled about how I didn't want to and had said no. To this she laughed harder telling me of course I had wanted it, look at how I had dressed. I just put my head down and cried. She ignored it saying I was overacting. I shut up and dealt with it, blaming myself for what had happened.

By the time Monday reared its ugly head, the entire school knew what had happened. I quickly heard the words slut and whore going around the school. I had dressed sexily so of course I had seduced him. I didn't tell my side. I just kept my head down and went from class to class. I ignored the guy if I saw him and he did likewise. He knew the truth, and so did I. I hadn't wanted him and had said no, but no one else knew it.

I quickly started to hate school. It was brutal for me to walk down the halls and have those names showered on my head. My so called friend even partook and we soon stopped talking. I felt worthless and like I was broken goods. Guys would make comments trying to get me to have sex, pestering, thinking I was easy. I started to skip classes. I didn't care if I passed or failed. I had been a 4.0 student. I quickly was getting F's and D's in some of my better classes. I would drink on the weekends with other friends trying to drown what was going on. I hurt on the inside, but I had no one to turn to. I couldn't tell my parents; they didn't know I had been to a party. On top of that, I became secluded. I stayed in my room or would go walk around by myself.

I started to sleep around more. I figured if the rumours were already out there might as well back them up. I had very self destructive behaviours. I also began to cut myself. I had made myself so numb from everything. It was a relief to have pain whether mental or physical. I also developed an eating disorder. I felt if I had been skinnier and prettier he wouldn't have touched me. People believe pretty girls when these things happen. I felt ugly and I had to make myself beautiful. That would fix everything. I'm a size 7/8 naturally at good weight. At this time I became a size 3. I tried to destroy myself not by suicide but by losing weight.

After almost a year and a half of moping and trying to rebuild my destroyed reputation, I met a guy I later dated for three years. He knew the rumours and didn't care. He showed me I wasn't broken. He was the first person I ever told about what had happened to me. He helped me in more than one way. Sexually, he showed me I didn't have to use it to fill a space that had been made, that it could mean something. We also learned I had dominant and submissive tendencies that I enjoyed. I don't know if this was from the 'incident' as I now call it, but they were there. We explored this side of me together, and I relished in it. I finally felt whole and beautiful. I didn't need booze and to hurt myself.

My rape as I now know to call it happened when I was only 15 years old. I'm now 20. It has taken me 5 years to come to terms with everything that happened to me. I no longer cut myself, and I don't feel beautiful most of the time. I do have tendencies to starve myself, but my new boyfriend helps me through it. I learned a lot from what happened. I don't blame the guy for anything. I don't like what happened but I feel I can open up and show you aren't to blame because you were drunk, or because you wore tight clothes. I am at peace with what happened and who I became. This story is a part of me, and my life's story.