Two years ago in the early hours of the morning on January 24, something happened to me that I never thought would happen to me. Yes, at the time, I experienced 5 sexual assaults before, but I never thought I would be the one to be raped, especially by a known male. I remember it quite well, even though I tried my hardest to suppress the memory. The vivid image of not being listened to, of losing control of my own body, to having you act like nothing happened, and to have your girlfriend at the time hate me because of the lie and the reason you told her. The reason being to prove to her that “you could have sex with anyone.” Anyone being me, me who didn’t even want to have sex with you. Me being someone you had sex with before, so you assumed I wanted it again. But no, I didn’t. I wanted nothing to do with you. But one drunk night out, and I asked everyone to leave, but you, you claimed you weren’t leaving without respecting my wishes. It was 5 in the morning, I wanted nothing but sleep. I wanted everyone out of my house. Because I forgot to lock my door, I found you in my bed.
I always feel wrong for telling my story because society tells me I did everything wrong. That I asked for it. That it was my fault. But how is it my fault when I say no? How is it my fault when I can’t fully consent? And how is it my fault when they forced me? It’s not.
I was forced to give head. I was able to stop. I tried going to sleep. I was exhausted. But the next thing I knew he was on top of me. He was a football player. Do you know how weak I am compared to him, trying to push him off of me? It was so hard that I quit trying. I started crying. I closed my eyes and prayed for it to end. Maybe if he saw me crying he would stop. He didn’t see the tears. He didn’t stop. He continued until he was finished. When he was done he got dressed and left.
I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t speak a word about it until about three months later. When I was going crazy about how much my friends loved my rapist’s girlfriend. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I pretended like nothing bothered me. But everything did. I even entered an abusive relationship shortly after the rape, because I assumed thats all I was worth.
The most heart breaking thing was when I finally opened up to my friends about it all. They were disappointed that I didn’t tell them sooner. But how was that supposed to go down? “Hey guys, how was your night? Oh mine was great, I was raped last night.” No. I was still in disbelief that it all happened there was no way I was gonna share it right after it happened. I even got doubts that it actually happened. The hardest thing I heard from someone close to me was, “are you sure it happened? you don’t want to ruin his life by claiming this.” HIS life? I’m not worried about HIS life, because HE already ruined mine. I didn’t care that he was a goddamn football player. He shouldn’t get special treatment. But at Appalachian State, that’s unfortunately true, athletes, especially football players get special treatment. I didn’t go to the authorities with this one, because by the time I told people, I felt like it would have been a lose-lose situation for me.
Since he was a year younger than me, I knew I was still gonna see him around. So I kept him on social media. Why? So I knew his whereabouts. So I knew where he was so I could avoid him. It was the only way that made me feel safe at the time.
But at the end of the day, Brandon, I hope your pride hasn’t made you rape another girl, to prove to another girl you can have sex with whoever. I hope you get the justice you deserve, and by this point it time, I hope karma kicks you in the ass hard. I never openly said your name until now, but I’ll save you some respect and not say your last name. Enjoy your life and please do us all a favor and don’t try to destroy any other girls lives.