I Thought It Was My Fault..

I had just turned 14, and I was going to my first real high school party. My best friend's boyfriend had the basement to himself that night, so had invited a bunch of people over to chill, play drums, listen to music, and (most importantly) drink and smoke cigarettes. I had told my mom and dad that it would just be me, my friend A, and her boyfriend C watching movies all night, and to just come pick me up the next day. Well, THAT wasn't going to happen - my mom insisted that she pick me up later that night (to my horror). I tried to convince her otherwise, but we ended up compromising: she was picking me up at midnight, and no later.
Like most 14 year old girls, we put on our "hottest" and tightest pants and shirts, making sure they show just enough of our new cleavage, and straightened our hair out with an iron. We put on make up, me for the first time, and went on our way.
For the first 2 hours, everything was great! I was having an awesome time, and was getting a lot of compliments (something I wasn't used to - after all, I had been the girl everyone teased all my life). Then one of the boys I had been talking to asked me if I'd like a drink, and I automatically said 'yes'. Worst. Decision. Ever.
He was only gone a few seconds, at least thats how it felt, when he came back with what looked like a Coke in his hand. He gave it to me, I drank it. The first taste that hit me was Coke, the second, the strong taste of rum. The third, an odd taste I couldn't place; it left a weird, dry-like after taste in my mouth. I immediately designated that taste to the rum, since this was the first time I had tried it. I didn't like it, and I wanted to stop drinking it. But I knew that if I did, everyone would laugh at me and either call me a baby, or a light weight. Either was like social suicide to me at that point, so I kept drinking.
I had about 1/3 left of my drink when I started feeling... odd. The room was warpy and spinny. My head was pounding, and I just needed to lay down. I inwardly cursed myself for drinking that rum - it obviously didn't agree with me. I went to A and told her how I was feeling, and she led me into a bedroom at the end of the room, right beside the drum kit. We went in, both lied down on the bed, and I fell asleep.
When I woke up, everything was silent and my vision was fuzzy. My head still kind of hurt, and I couldn't gain focus. Where am I? I remember thinking, as I looked slowly around the dark room. Wasn't there a lamp on before? I slowly sat up to get a better look around the room, when I felt a sharp pain run from my clitoris all the way to somewhere deep inside. When I finally looked down, the first thing I saw was blood, everywhere. All over my thighs, my lower tummy, and the bed. Did I get my period?, I remember thinking. Then I fully woke up to the realization that my pants were off, and my shirt was ripped half off. I had bruises along the inside of my thighs, my butt cheeks, around my hip bones, and a few tiny ones on my boobs.
It was like slamming my head into a brick wall. Everything went black, my stomach turned upside-down and all I could do was lay back down, curl up in a ball, and stare. I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. Too scared. What had I done?
A knock at the bedroom door startled me, making me jump back up. Please don't be back. "Yes?" A's voice in response sent a wave of relief over me. "Your mom's here to pick us up, you okay?". Of course I lied, quickly put my clothes back on and opened the door a crack. "I ripped my shirt somehow, can I borrow a sweater from C?"
I got the sweater and jumped in the back seat of my mom's car. I didn't talk the whole way home. Or the next day either, for that matter.
Before that, I had always been a very happy-go lucky, outspoken girl. I always searched for the bright side of things, kept my room filled with sunlight, and could never stop talking.
Afterwards, I felt nothing. No happiness, sadness, anger, resentment... Nothing. I walked through the school like a zombie, and didn't feel comfortable at home when my mom wasn't around, leaving me with my dad and brother. They had never touched me inappropriately my whole life, but after that incident, something just felt off.
And for 6 months, I didn't tell anyone that I had been date raped. I didn't even want to admit it to myself. After all, it was my fault, wasn't it? At least, thats what I had thought for a while. It was my fault. Everyone always told me and my other classmates to never accept a drink from someone you don't know, and I did. And worse, I was drinking alcohol, something my mom would definitely not approve of. So I kept it hidden, until it finally came out during a session with my psychiatrist.
After that, I repressed it. I didn't want to talk about it, think about it, or be faced with it. I wanted so bad for my virginity to have been given away by me, and not ripped out by 3 teenage boys whose faces I STILL can't remember, that I pretended like it didn't happen. After all, I didn't remember much. It wasn't until I was 20 years old, and in my third year at university, that I felt forced to deal with it: I began to experience visual, visceral, flashbacks while asleep. Every night, the same dream. A and I walk into that dimly lit bedroom with dirty white walls and a cheap white comforter with small pink and blue flowers on it. We lay down, and then before I know it, my clothes are being ripped off, penises are being shoved into me, and three boys are passing me around like a shiny new toy. Sharing me, even though one guy said I was 'his'. How "kind" of him.
Three years later, and I'm further along my recovery than I ever thought I could be, way back then. I still have triggers, I still have flashbacks. I still feel awful when I think back to what happened to me, regardless of my virginity, regardless of my age. How it is that people can use others in such a violent and violating way, I will never understand; that experience killed me. I still feel like I am an entirely different person than I was previous to that happening, and I felt that way since the moment I realized what had happened. I died, and had to become someone new. I changed my name, my hair, the music I listened to, and the clothes I wore.
I'm happy with who I am now, and how far I've come. But I wonder if I had a resource to help me feel not so alone, not so ashamed, not so used and dirty, maybe I could have coped, and gotten through it, a bit better than I did; maybe I could have skipped the countless cuts on my wrists and the suicidal attempts.
That is why I'm writing my story. So that people can know what I didn't: it is NOT your fault. But it is your responsibility to pick yourself up, with the help of those who care around you, and begin to rebuild after the destruction and mess they made.
Good luck, and I hope that I can help in some way.
philosophygirl philosophygirl
22-25, F
5 Responses Nov 9, 2012

The people who did this to you deserve to burn.

You are amazing, I am in awe of you. Yes you are right about resources, there is much more needed to be done to help people who have been raped and to deal with why rape happens in the first place. Rape is an age-old 'problem' and its never been given much weight. I think date rape and drink spiking is appalling and those who practice it are vile, loathsome types. Prison is eventually where they end up or on a sex offenders register or both. They deserve it.

Thank you so much! I am currently researching ways to help make sure this sort of thing doesn't happen as often (and hopefully, never!) as it does now. The act of rape is evil, in every sense of the word, and I intend to devote my life to figuring out how to get society to be more open, welcoming, and caring towards the victims which reside in it. Instead of focussing on the perpetrators, I want the world to start focussing on the victims, their struggles, and the moral weight the loss of who they once were necessarily holds. I also want it to be incorporated into the process of prosecution of the perpetrators (in a much bigger way than it currently is). So I completely agree with you that it hasn't been given much weight, but I sincerely hope that I, and other like minded people, can change that. Thank you again for your comment, and your insightful words.

u expect me to go like aww terrible well first of all ur a retard , u shouldve as soon as u went in ur mom's car took off ur clothes and told her everything , sue the kids for a life time clear ur conscious altho u might get embarrassed at school but who cares strengthen your bond with ur mom by being honest and begging for forgiveness and then moving and starting a new life but by suppressing everything u encouraged the little three faglets to rapee more girls GOOD JOB

I have a few points to make in reference to your comment. First, asking for forgiveness entails that the person in question has done something wrong, i.e., something that needs to be forgiven. People who have been raped are the victims, NOT the perpetrators, of the act, and thereby do not require forgiveness from anyone. Rather, they are the judges who get to decide whether to forgive their perpetrator. So, as a girl who literally JUST turned 14, I did not have to ask forgiveness from anyone (even if I thought at the time that I did something wrong). Second, I eventually did tell my mom (after I told my psychiatrist and during the meeting with him), though it was 6 months after the fact. To expect a child to spill about something exhibiting an extreme violation of choice, control, and body is, I believe, an unreasonable and naive expectation. After something like that takes place in a person's life, especially at such a young age, he or she is not really in his/her 'right mind', so to speak. For example, it took me about 7 or 8 months to start feeling emotions again instead of realizing when, rationally, I should feel sad, angry, happy, etc., let alone the ability to trust after such an event is severely compromised. Finally, I still (to this day) do not remember what the guys looked like. Even directly after it happened I didn't have a visual image of these kid's faces. This has been attributed (by my doctor and my psychiatrist at the time, as well as my current family doctor which has since changed) to the drug which I was secretly given, so in this case you are blaming 14-year-old me for something that was out of my control, namely, my ability to remember the event in question. My personal experience of my rape was severely compromised by internal impairment. This means that by my silence, I cannot be blamed (and will not tolerate being blamed) for allowing these kids (because really, they were children too) to get away and perhaps rape other girls.
Having said that, I find your comment repulsive, insensitive, and wholly unsupportive. I have learned and have grown a lot since this event took place, as I am now 23 years old, and so am not emotionally impacted by your mean-hearted words of blame, however I truly hope that you are not sending these sorts of comments out to those who have just been raped recently. In rape victims, the tendency to self-blame is high enough; there is no need for you to add to it (especially since it is clearly unjustified).

i didnt even bother to read ur long comment since it started with a bullshit reply , ask her mom for forgiveness , in her confession she got drunk altho her mom told her not to , she knew it was coke and still finished it just cuz she didnt want to be laughed at

Coke = Coca Cola......

Aladdin96=ignorant fool

Rlly? A 12year old getting drunk with people who she doesn't know ye I'm the ignorant fool , in my comment I didn't consider her feelings ofc I can go like I'm sorry and I feel bad for you but the reality is she needs some parenting hardcore one even if its online through a comment

I could delete your comments, but instead I'm going to leave them up. You're entitled to your opinions, just as others are entitled to theirs (even if you enjoy trolling a rape cite - who needs the parenting again?). But, to set the record straight, I was 14 (not 12). I did not get drunk, I was drugged. And finally, as I believe I mentioned in the blog, I went to the party because my best friends boyfriend was throwing it... If it was a stranger's party, I wouldn't have wanted to go (nor would my parents have allowed it). I have two of the most amazing parents in the world who disciplined me when I needed it, who gave me guidelines and rules, and who instilled empathy, reason, and morals into my system of values. I am proud of the way they raised me, and I do not believe anything that happened to me that night was in any way their fault.

3 More Responses

terrible just terrible, hope you're fine now..

I'm so very sorry you had to experience this. You were no different than any other teenage girl. I feel for you.