The start of my junior year of college, I went to a party with a few friends. I knew everyone at the party, so I wasn't too concerned. I'm normally very self-aware and conscious of putting myself in any sort of situation that could turn out badly. One of my good friends' brother was there from out of town and we started talking. Very friendly, not flirty. I had not been drinking. Anyway, my friends' brother (I'm going to call him J) mentioned that he had some rare soundtracks in his brother's room that he had brought with him and asked if I'd like to see them. I said yes and went upstairs with him. I know,stupid move on my part. But I trusted J's brother, so I trusted him.
There were people upstairs as well in other rooms of the house. We went into his brother's room, he shut the door and he showed me the soundtracks. We were sitting on the futon (folded up) and after a few minutes, he started to stroke my shoulders. I inched out of his way. He tried again, I moved. Then he started to kiss my neck and I politely told him that I wasn't interested in that. He laughed and stopped. A few more minutes went by of normal conversation, then he tried to kiss me again. I turned and told him rather firmly to knock it off and started to get up to leave. He laughed, then moved over me so that I couldn't stand up. I started to push him, telling him to stop but he kept kissing me and trying to touch me.
I'm not a big girl. I'm 25 now and I still weigh 95 pounds (I don't suffer from any sort of eating disorder. I'm a very active dancer , was born 2 months premature and just have never been able to hit the 100 pound mark) and am 5' even. He was at least 180 and well over six feet. Still, I pushed, I tried to wiggle out from under him, to the side, anything I could to get him off me. Then, he hit me. Open palm across my cheek. I had never been struck before so I just was sort of stunned into this dumb silence. He pulled my shirt up and started to touch me through my bra. I started to cry and he told me to shut up and be quiet. He also said I was beautiful when I cried. He kept kissing me and touching my breasts and he started to unbutton and unzip my jeans.
I knew what would happen in I didn't do something. I wasn't going to allow myself to be a victim. I started to stomp on the floor as loudly as I could and looked around for anything within my reach that I could throw. I saw my friends' snowglobe from NYC and I managed to pick it up and throw it against the door. It shattered and J went off. He struck me a few more times in the face and called me a cunt. He then pinned me down and started to pull my jeans down. I started to scream and he continued to hit me, still trying to pull my jeans down. I kept screaming. I knew people were nearby and that if I did, they would come and help me.
A few seconds later, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I started to scream for help and where I was. J started screaming at me, calling me names and managed to get my jeans down past my hips and was starting on my underwear.
My friend and two other male friends burst into the room and shouted "What the fuck is going on?!" I started to crying, really crying. I didn't know what to say, how to tell my friend what his brother had tried to do. My friend later said that even though my pants were down and my underwear was down on one side of my hip, the look on my face said it all. He turned on his brother, pulled him off me and started to beat the living shit out of him. One of the other guys tried to break them up while the other guy (who worked as an RA) grabbed a blanket and held it up like a screen and turned his head so I could fix my clothes. He then wrapped it around me and led me to another room (one of my friends' female house mates rooms) and told me to wait there. He then went a helped break up the fight between my friend and J. After a few minutes, my friend came in and apologized profusely. He asked me if I wanted to call the police and I said no. I didn't want to cause my friend anymore pain than he already had. The friend who worked as an RA then came in and asked me if I wanted to go back to my dorm. I said yes and he drove me back to campus. He spoke with my room mate briefly, telling her what had happened but not in detail and told her to call him if need be. He said he would drop by the next morning. I showered, my friend made me a cup of tea, then I went to bed, crying and clutching my two favorite stuffed animals.
The next morning, the RA dropped by and took me to the crisis center. The woman there I and discussed my options and how to recover. I didn't want to press charges and I didn't want to tell my parents. My parents would have called the police and maybe pulled me from school. I met with her over the course of the remaining several months and eventually, I was able to move on. The first few weeks and months I would occasionally have nightmares, talking and crying in my sleep, but my room mate would gently wake me up and tell me it was okay, that I was safe and give me a cup of tea, wrap me in my favorite afghan and give me my stuffed animals (I have a feeling the RA who brought me home had given her info on how to deal with this when and if it came up). I haven't had a nightmare for nearly three years.
I've never told this to anyone. The only people who know what happened are my friend, J, the two guys, my room mate and the councilor. Since then, I've had two perfectly normal sexual relationships. The first one was a little stressful, almost resulting in a panic attack, but the guy was very sweet and gentle (he attributed it to the fact that it was my first time). There have never been any triggers or anything like that for me. I never saw J again.
My current SO is very sweet but we've been going through some stuff lately. Thursday night, I had must have had a flashback. I sleep with my cell phone by my bed (on my mattress next to me actually because it acts as my alarm clock too) and I must have started thrashing, hit the call button (he was the last person I spoke to) and then hit it again to end the call. He called me when he got the voicemail (the next morning), very concerned. He said I was crying hysterically, that there were beeps (my hand hitting the other buttons) and saying things like "No", "Get off me", "Stop", "You're hurting me"... I immediately knew what it was. I told him that I would explain it to him later, just told him that I have bad nightmares sometimes.
Any comments/help/tips/advice would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!