My freshman year of high school was a difficult time for me. I didn’t have close friends for most of it, and I often felt very alone. I was a good kid; I never drank or did drugs. But when summer rolled around, I was invited to a party by a girl (let’s call her Jenna) I didn’t know all that well. So on that night in June, I knew there was no chance my parents would be okay with me leaving the house so late at night and I made the decision to sneak out. It was around 10 at night and I was in my bathroom putting on a face full of makeup and finding an outfit that would help me fit in.

When I finally left the house, I sat down on the curb and waited for Jenna to arrive. My heart was beating faster than ever before and I was terrified that my mother would go into my room and see that I wasn’t there. I thought about canceling, but soon a truck pulled up to my street. Inside the truck was two high school boys I had never seen before, and in the bed of the truck was Jenna. She motioned me over and told me to hop in. I pulled myself into the truck and the boy started driving. After a 10 minute drive, we pulled up to a small house that only had three other cars outside of it. I asked if more people were coming and I was told that this was it. Turns out it was more of a kickback than a party. Hesitantly, I walked inside with the three people I arrived with. When one of the boys opened the front door, he and his friend walked over to the kitchen and started pouring shots. The older looking one handed me one. I grabbed it from him, looked at Jenna for reassurance, and downed it.; all while trying not to let anyone know that I had never had a drink before in my life. She and I went over to the living room where there couldn’t have been more than eight people. None of which I knew, seven of which were boys.

I didn’t have a great feeling about where I was, but I desperately wanted to enjoy myself. So I took another shot of tequila. And then another. And another. I felt better. I wasn’t scared anymore. Though I was sitting in a room full of strange men, intoxicated. I felt safe. I’m not sure how much later, but eventually a boy (we will call him Trevor) a year older than me sat uncomfortably close to me. I was very drunk at this moment and he knew it. He started talking to me, soon he pulled me even closer to him and he put his arm around my body. He must have noticed how uncomfortable I was because he backed off and went to talk to his friends on the other side of the room. I figured he was done with me and I kept talking to Jenna. However, soon she left to hook up with one of the boys and all of a sudden, I felt alone.

It didn’t take too much longer for Trevor to make his way back over to me. He told me that I looked like I could use some water and offered to get me some. I said yes, even though my mom has always told me to never take a drink from a stranger, and he disappeared into the kitchen. When he got back I drank a few sips and put the cup down, he told me to keep drinking. So I did. He went back over to his friends leaving me alone on the couch, too drunk to move. Probably thirty minutes later, the only other girl at the party came up to me and told me I looked like I needed to lie down. I trusted her (I still believe to this day that the girl really was just trying to help me). But, this is where my night took a turn for the worst. She helped me stand up and basically carried me to one of the bedrooms down the hall. She laid me down on the bed and closed the door behind her. Not even ten minutes went by before the door opened again. But, this time it wasn’t her, it was Trevor. He closed the door and got onto the bed with me. I don’t remember much of what happened in there, (I am convinced he slipped something in my drink) but I do remember him kissing my neck. Me telling him to stop. Him getting on top of me. Me trying to push him off. Him telling me how beautiful I looked. Me unable to do anything but lay there. And him feeling me up, pushing up my top, and sticking his hand down my pants. My mind goes dark around there.

The next thing I remember is being back in the bed of the truck that took me to that party. I was looking up at the sky. It was starting to get bright outside. Then I remember getting back to my house, laying down in my bed, and going to sleep.

I never told anyone this. I couldn’t. I wasn’t supposed to be out of the house that night so I felt like I couldn’t talk to my parents. I didn’t have friends to run to.  I don’t believe that Trevor had sex with me. So what do I say happened? I don’t even know what happened. Is what happened to me considered rape? Sexual assault? He was older than me so was it molestation? I’m not sure. All I know is that I cried about it every night for a month. I still cry about it sometimes. I can no longer stand to be touched for the most part. I still think about it all the time even though its years later. His actions have affected every relationship I’ve been in since that night. I no longer feel safe being alone in a room full of strangers. Sometimes, I think to myself that I can’t be this upset over what happened to me when some women have had it so much worse. But here I am, still deeply hurt by what he did to me and unable to do anything about it.