Anonymous 17

I was 17, and was out drinking as usual with a group of mainly male friends, including a guy I used to think was hot, but after a couple of close encounters, knew him to be a “player” who only wanted sex. This particular night I had drunk more than usual, and after 10 or so beers, we went to the pub, where I continued drinking. I don’t know why I drank so much, except it was escapism for me from other hurtful things in my life and I regularly drunk, used drugs to get off my face, it made my life more meaningful. Anyway, I remember going to the bathroom at the pub and looking at myself in the mirror thinking, “I can’t believe I’m still standing”. After that I rejoined the group and decided I needed cigarettes. I asked for someone to go with me, as it was late and I was very drunk. The “hot” guy I had resolved I wouldn’t have anymore to do with offered to come with me. Not thinking anything of it, I agreed.
Once I got outside into the cold air, the alcohol hit me like a tonne of bricks. I can remember crashing across the road and throwing up. I thought he was being nice when he came back with a drink (complete with straw) as well as cigarettes. That”s when things changed. Instead of taking me back to the pub where the others where, he lead me (I was paralytic and couldn’t walk unaided) down the road, across the road and when a noisy car load jeered or something as they came around the corner by us, he threw me over the fence to the park. He said something about trying to protect me (from the car load) but not being superman. Some more rest stops ensued, some more vomiting, more rests. At one point I offered him a hand job, as I knew he always wanted sex and wanted to get off “lightly.” He said, “that might be enough for some guys but its not enough for me.”
For some reason we went inside the toilet block. I was still paralytic and lying on the floor, shaking. He said, “I only know one way to keep you warm”. I couldn’t think properly, didn’t want to, couldn’t understand my situation, but felt pressure, unsure. Said “I suppose.” Hoping, I guess he wd take that as a no and move on, but he didn’t. I didn’t actively resist. I was too drunk. I was in and out of consciousness, to comatose to actually take part. “It” was being done “to me” rather than with me. When he found me hard to penetrate (as I was a virgin) he tried positioning my limp body in different ways. Fearing he was going to penetrate me anally, I found the strength to flip myself back onto my back. He said “oh you want to do it this way?”. I sobered up, on the dark, concrete floor of that toilet block as he hammered away at my virginity. When I bled, he swore, like he thought he might get in trouble. He walked me home, but not safely. And smoked all my smokes. His payment for all he had done for me, he said. I went inside and cried. I cried often, I had flashbacks and felt so degraded, even though it took me many, many years to see his intention in all that. To see it as exploitation, or even rape. It never occurred to me to go to the police, even later when I realised that he had done something wrong, that legally, I wasn’t in. Position to consent, as I knew it wd be my word against his, there was no forensic evidence by then, a trial wd be unpleasant, and a conviction unlikely.
Love to all the survivors. I so wanted to go today, but was unwell, or maybe just couldn’t face up to it yet.