But I Was Wrong

This one’s for you. 

Not being able to forgive someone isn’t as arrogant as some would argue. It’s hard to simply excuse someone after devouring a hearty chunk of your soul. But that’s what I did, and I sure as hell didn’t mean it.

You were an awkward kid to say the least. I could smell your insecurities through your petty jokes. Always averting your negativity onto the nearest person. Sincerely feeling bad for you, I befriended you. That was a mistake I should have seen coming.. but I didn’t.

I remember the night we partook in the Four Loko Challenge at a house party. For anyone that’s a stranger to the game, it’s a dangerous way of saying “I dare you to drink 4 Four Lokos”. I was about halfway through my third one when I tapped out.

I could hear it in your slurred attempts to ask me to have sexual relations with you that you were drunk. I recall repeatedly laughing in your face as I stated no over and over again. Your sense of humor was always lacking and I assumed that it lacked in a particular manner when you were belligerent. But I was wrong.

I didn’t know that I would soon learn how very wrong I was. You had become so persistently annoying that I actually said ‘Fine, later. Now leave me alone’. I assumed you’d forget and ask me again in a couple of minutes, but you didn’t. 

Suddenly it felt like hours had passed, so I exited the stuffy, beer-scented garage we had confined ourselves to. I wound up in the hallway outside the bedrooms; apparently this was the current hang out spot because the walls were plastered with leaning, slurring, obnoxious drunks.

I felt the alcohol creeping up on me slowly. My vision started to blur and voices became faint. Yours pierced through, still, as I continue to hear your voice ringing in my head. 

“But you promised! C’mon!”

Again, I laughed and answered no as you raised your voice to me. Then I blacked out. But you were going to get what you wanted no matter what, weren’t you? You pulled me into a bedroom as if you owned me. You undressed me as if it were your right. You violated my body as if I deserved it. You even invited someone to join you in your cruel act as if I would have preferred it. 

I only came-to twice during your bastardly deed. The first time, I was gazing at the minimal moonlight creeping through the bedroom window. I could hear your gasps and groans, feel penetration and pain.. two sets of hands gripping me wherever they pleased. I felt a warm sensation on my cheek as I slowly realized that I was pressed down on someone’s chest. I still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but I knew I wanted saving.

The second time, I heard a woman yelling. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?!” she proclaimed as she stood in the [now open] doorway.

I lied back on the bed, exposed, as I saw you both run out of the room past the angry voice. I wanted to yell to her.. cry to her.. but I didn’t. 

I remember sobbing in the living room as my crush walked out accusing me of being a whore. Numerous people, including him, had seen us exit the room, but failed to put the pieces together. After all, I was drunk, right? Brought it upon myself? Was just your typical, high school slut?

 You approached me no longer than a couple of weeks afterwards and tried apologizing. I didn’t want to, but somehow you convinced me to tell you it was okay. I’m here now to tell you it’s not. It never was and it never shall be. 

 People would tell me I was being over dramatic when I tried to speak up; that rape was a really strong word and I shouldn’t use it. What words should I have used, then, to explain the bits of me they took home with them that night? What other term would accurately describe the events that took place? Because I know damn well that it’s a far stretch from anything consensual.

I blame myself every day as well. Scenarios of what could have happened play in my head on occasion – if I had not had so much to drink or if I had left. I can’t take back any more of it than you can. 

You haunt me to this day, though. I can still see that window and feel that pain all over again. I still feel abused and ashamed. You stripped me of my confidence and well-being. You’ve torn apart my self-confidence and have provided me with trust issues. 

The damage on my soul could have surpassed what it’s minimalized to; I could be frail and skittish, but I am independent and strong. Although I will never forget, I shall never allow your selfish actions to control my future. 

So, here’s to never forgiving 🍻

Leave a Reply

SCROLL TO TOP