According the Law and Order: SVU once a person is sexually assaulted, the likelihood that they will be assaulted again goes up exceptionally. I am no exception. Sometimes I feel like a have a target on my back so I try to scream that I’m a rape survivor before someone sees the target because at least then, I’m in control of my story and not some tattoo written in invisible ink that is only visible to those with UV light laster eyes.
I didn’t scream it to you because I didn’t know that I had been branded. I really liked you. I thought you were the guy version of me. But I wasn’t the one who made advances. I said I wanted to take things slow, not have sex on the first date. I didn’t realize that I needed to be any more specific than that. We ate a nice dinner, conversation was great. We talked about school, politics, and life. You asked what I wanted to do later. You offered a walk or watching a movie at your house. I remember being cold and I thought that everything would be fine since we said that we wouldn’t have sex. I was wrong. We got to your place and you lead me to your room, cuddling was wonderful, we turned on some stupid movie on Netflix that I don’t remember, but then you leaned in to kiss me. I didn’t think anything of it, your kiss was sweet, but then it became more forceful. I pushed you off and told you I needed you to take it slow. You stoped so I thought you were respecting me. 5 minutes later you started again and again I told you to take things slow. You started digging your fingers into me and forcing your body on top of mine, your lips forcing themselves in the crook of my neck. My lips parted and as I was trying to say no, a moan left my lips and I suddenly felt betrayed by my own body. I could no longer speak and I immediately fell back into survival mode because pushing you off my body and telling you to slow down wasn’t enough. Unless it was Opposite Day, in which case my pushing felt like pulling and my slow downs sounded like speed ups, but if this was the case then me freezing up should have been me fighting you off. I let you do whatever you wanted so that I could get out safely but I kept saying “no sex” as a prayer that somehow you not putting your penis in my vagina would mean that this had not happened to me again. When you were done, I used your brush to brush my hair, you knew my friend was tracking my location and you asked if I would tell her that you “had been good.” I laughed and said I guess, said I was the one who hadn’t been good and you laughed thinking I meant that I had provoked the encounter, when actually I was blaming myself. I got in my car and drove the hour and a half back home. I cried the whole way. Again, my body has a way of knowing things before my brain figures it out.
I just don’t understand how I am expected to deal with both of my assaults. I can barely handle one without breaking down and now I am forced to deal with another. And I am also halfway convinced that I’m making everything up in my head, because it’s easier to blame myself than to come to terms with the fact that I was assaulted not once but twice. I can’t protect myself because it happened twice already. I feel defenseless. I thought writing this would make myself feel better, but it hasn’t.