I'm new here. This is my story. Sorry, but I have to get this out.
I was 18 when it happened. Not even 18 for a month. I met him on the internet. Now that I look at it there were red flags everywhere, but I didn't see them. He was living 3 hours away from me at the time, but drove down for the weekend to watch me play in the state basketball tournament. At first he seemed like a nice guy. We had pregame dinner together the first night. He came to my game, all my team mates were jealous. He was tall, funny, good looking. The night of the semi finals it happened. My team won the game, we were playing in the finals the next night. He and I went out after the game to get something to eat and just hang out for awhile and get to know each other. He drove. I told my parents that we were going to a friends house. Instead we went driving around on the back roads talking. We ended up at a baseball field out at the edge of town. My back was hurting, so he offered to give me a massage. I wasn't too worried because I had told him multiple times before hand that I didn't want to have sex. We climbed into the back of his SUV. I took my shirt off and laid down on my stomach. I felt him undo my bra, and pour some baby oil onto my back. Really, it felt good. After a while he started kissing the back of my neck. I told him again that I didn't want to have sex with him, I didn't want things to go that far. He said OK and rolled me over onto my back. We made out for awhile, then things started going father. He unzipped my jeans and stuck his hand in them. I told him I didn't want it to go any farther than that. He told me that I did. I knew I was in trouble right then. I was trapped. He had all his body weight on me and we were in the middle of nowhere. The rest all happened so fast, I don't know how he did it all so quickly. He pulled my jeans and underwear off and unzipped his pants. I told him again I didn't want to. I asked him to stop. Told him to stop. Begged him to stop. The pain was unreal. I don't even know how to describe it. I tried everything I could think of to get away, to make it impossible for him to get in. He did anyway. Kept telling me that I just needed to relax. I really did want it. If I would relax it wouldn't hurt so bad. Every thrust brought more pain. The carpet was burning my back. I just wanted it to be over. I couldn't believe it was happening to me. Surely it had to be a dream. After what seemed like an eternity he stopped. Kissed me, thanked me, and then handed me my clothes to get dressed. He took me back to my car and promised to call in the morning. I went home and got in the shower. I sat there for hours. I knew what had happened but I didn't accept it. I was in denial. That couldn't happen to me. I'm an athlete, I'm big and strong, nobody overpowers me. I decided then that I wasn't going to tell anyone, I would just act like it was my idea and I wanted it. Over the next two days I acted like I was madly in love with him, loved being with him. I even had sex with him multiple times. Later I found out that two of my friends knew that it was an act, that something was up. After he left I quit communicating with him. The few times that he did contact me he told me that I had imagined everything that happened that night. That he did nothing wrong.
It was 6 months before I ever told anyone the truth about him. The first two that I told kinda already knew that it had happened. At least suspected it. In those 6 months I started smoking, huffing paint, taking pain killers, anything that I thought would take away the pain. I started having panic attacks. I attempted suicide multiple times. Started cutting. Started abusing alcohol, drinking up to 32 oz a night.
It's been 3 years now. I've been in therapy, learned to deal with it. I still have flashbacks from time to time. I've accepted what happened to me. I don't like it....but I've accepted it. I don't talk about it much. Just to one person. I don't like to admit that it happened because it still makes me feel weak and defeated. I never did press charges and I no longer hear from him. I've pretty much moved on. Every now and then I think about it and have to get it out of my system somehow...usually by writing.