Female • 16 years old • Connecticut
The summer between my junior and senior years of high school was brutal. I was as insecure and lonely as they come, especially since my two ex-best friends had dumped me right before school ended over a false rumor. It seemed like I only had one friend left and it just so happened that I had been in love with him since freshman year. It was July and C's parents and brother were away on vacation, so he invited me over to hang out. I was excited to be getting out of the house, but my heart sank when I arrived and my ex-best friends, J and B, along with some other kids, were already there. My wounds were still fresh, and just being in their presence was humiliating. I had so many conflicting emotions — so many things I wanted to say, but couldn't. So I just stayed quiet until they left.
By nightfall I was depressed, but C and I were finally alone. He pulled a bottle out of his parents' liquor cabinet and we proceeded to drink it. I told him how horrible I felt about the J and B situation, about how much the rejection hurt. He told me that he loved me, and that I was beautiful. I had never heard these words spoken to me before and I had dreamed that they would come from his mouth. He leaned in and kissed me. This was my first kiss, and through my severely drunken haze I tried to savor it. It took all of my concentration to keep from passing out. He took off all of my clothes, and then all of his. He tried to teach me how to give a blowjob, but I was too fucked up for that, so he started going down on me. I was too ashamed of my body to let him do that, so I asked if he had any condoms.
Illustration by Thomas Pitilli
He helped me up the stairs to his room and laid me on the bed. I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is him hovering on top of me saying my name, saying, "Are you ready?"
I wasn't. I said, "No." I said, "I don't think I can do this…"
He said, "I'll go slow." He knew I was a virgin. I was blacking out, but was then brought back to consciousness when I felt his cock force itself inside me. Even through all the alcohol, the pain was intense. I was so drunk I could barely talk, but I remember repeating, "I can't do this." I floated in and out of consciousness until he was finished and carried me to his brother's room. He said, "I love you," he tucked me in, and then he went back to his room for the night.
I had always wanted him to be my first, but not like that. I was so delusional about what had happened that for months after that I was more hurt that he never returned my phone calls again than that he raped me (although I didn't accept that it was rape until well into college). Thankfully for me, C didn't come to school in the fall. He dropped out, I never saw him again, and college couldn't have come soon enough.
Writing this has been cathartic because I'm still struggling with the gray line between rape and consent. I loved him, and being raped by someone you love at such a young age is really confusing. I'm twenty-two now, and I think I'm only just starting to accept and understand what happened. Thanks for the therapeutic outlet.