It was a Tuesday night, nothing to do. My guy friend Zack* and I had nothing to do, who knows where our other friends were.
It was near the end of our first semester in college. We met, along with our main group of friends, in the first two weeks of school.
After not finding anyone else to hang out with, Zack and I decided to casually drink shitty vodka, watch Netflix, talk about life and possibly adventure out into Boone later.
Now Zack and I were completely platonic friends, and Netflix and chill wasn’t a thing, so I wasn’t expecting much more than actually watching Netflix. Unfortunately, I ended up with way more than I bargained for.
He mixed our vodka drinks and I ran out to the bathroom before we started “Snow On Tha Bluff,” a movie, to this day, I still haven’t finished.
Ten minutes into the movie and less than halfway through my drink. Cut to black.
Cut to me waking up in my underwear around 4 or 5 a.m. Everything hurt. I wasn’t sure of where I was at first, but I eventually figured out I was in my dorm room. The room is spinning and hazy. I turned on my desk light and found vomit in my trash can.
I showered, and then cleaned out the trashcan in the shower as well (sorry custodial staff). I felt highly nauseous and went back to bed.
When I woke up for the day, I texted Zack and asked him what happened the night before, hoping for some kind of answer.
“We watched the movie and kissed, and then I went home.”
Something didn’t sit right with me, I wasn’t attracted to Zack, and I woke up in my underwear and in a lot of pain.
I saw my roommate standing outside a building smoking before a class and I went up to her hoping for clarification.
“Get away from me I am so angry right now, I need you to get away.”
Hurt and even more confused, I went about my day and I confided in the guy I was kind of seeing.
“You just drank too much and it’s fine, whatever, you’re a freshman.”
I didn’t know what to do. The guy I was seeing didn’t even believe that it was sketchy – it was one drink. I still felt awful the entire day, from one drink. I didn’t remember anything, from one drink.
I started questioning what happened even more. I texted Zack again asking him to tell me what happened.
“We started making out and you took your clothes off.” Not an answer, but I already knew deep down what had happened to me, but no one wanted to hear it.
At the end of the day, I crawled back to my room and asked my roommate why she was mad at me.
It was the vomit, some had gotten on a shirt of hers that was on the floor near the trashcan. I tried to explain that Zack and I were drinking and I only had one drink, so I didn’t think it was me, even though I didn’t remember anything. I said it could have been Zack.
“Zack doesn’t seem like the type to throw up. You really just need to control how much you drink.”
I tried talking to her about what had happened to me, and she just got angrier, thinking I was making excuses. I washed her shirt and wrote her an apology note. I didn’t want her mad at me on top of everything else.
I avoided Zack for the rest of the year. He texted me once asking me what my favorite kind of beer was – he wanted to get it for me in case I wanted to come to a party. I didn’t trust it, I never replied.
After my assault, I never went to the hospital, never got a rape kit, reported it, or even told anyone else that year. I doubted what actually happened since no one believed me.
After that year, I moved into the APH, nice female housing. I eventually confided in my roommate that year. She knew him, she was shocked, but she believed me. One person believed me, over a year after the fact. I only told her because I saw him on campus and freaked out.
Now, I’m a senior, I’m living with the same roommate, and I’ve slowly confided in a few close friends, a very loving boyfriend and myself.
At first I didn’t really believe that it happened to me, since no one else did. I took out my denial on my body for about a year and a half after it happened. I drank, a lot. There were weekends where I finished a fifth of Jack Daniels in one night. I hooked up with a lot of different guys so I wasn’t alone with a guy I didn’t want to be alone with.
One year he came to my formal. I took tequila shots until I was too drunk to realize he was there. I still see him at the bar occasionally and usually immediately leave. I still freak out if I see him on campus or in public.
Looking back, I wish that at least one person had believed me. Less than 10 percent of sexual assault reports are false. So why did no one I was comfortable confiding in believe me? I was 19 and scared and I was even more scared to talk to anyone official if even my friends didn’t believe me.
I want to say that I’m stronger now, overcoming all of this, but it’s been three years and I’m still working to overcome it with the help of those around me and through counseling.
I can however say that I have grown in spite of this, and it does get better.
*If you have been sexually assaulted, you are not alone and there are people here to help you. For resources, you can visit http://sexualassault.appstate.edu/ or call the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800-656-4673).