(Names have been changed to conserve the privacy of individuals)
I was 16 when I was sexually assaulted.
It was at the beginning of summer between two of my final exams. I was attending a birthday party with friends. Lying in a hammock with two of my childhood friends, just sipping drinks and talking, one of them got up to go to the loo. The one who stayed with me, Louis, started to play with my pants’ zipper. I pushed his hand away about five or six times, but I didn’t get up. I guess I was afraid to yell at him in front of everyone and cause a scandal.
Anyway, when he realised that my pants were out of bounds, he started to put his hand under my shirt and touched my chest. Once again, I pushed his hand away, but couldn’t run or scream. Maybe I was too drunk? maybe I was too shy? I still can’t explain it. Finally, I got up and fetched my other friend, Sam, to warn him about our friend’s behaviour, but more specifically, to ask for his protection.
As my best friend, he promised to keep me safe.
We went back outside with Louis and laid on a big outdoor bed, as is normal for three drunk teenagers to do during a party, to talk and watch the stars. Obviously, Louis started again and kept touching my bum. I fled him and prayed that he would leave me alone. What seemed like moments later, it was time to go to bed. I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask to sleep next to them, so I was placed in a bedroom with my best friend, Sam. I asked him to share the bed with me right away so that Louis couldn’t get in. Eager to keep seducing me, or trying to (I still don’t really understand what he was thinking at the time), Louis dragged his mattress into our bedroom and decided to sleep next to me, holding my hand.
I was so embarrassed.
I switched sides with Sam so that Louis would leave me alone and finally started to sleep, happy that I had a friend to protect me from ‘drunk annoying dudes’. The following morning, we woke up, still a bit drunk and dizzy.
Out of nowhere, Sam put his hand under my shirt and grabbed my boob.
I wasn’t wearing a bra because it was uncomfortable while I was sleeping: I still regret it to this day. My whole world fell to pieces: how could my best friend do this to me? I ran away to my boyfriends house without saying goodbye. I told him everything but kept saying “it was nothing”. I didn’t realise what had happened yet. Sam kept sending me texts so I explained to him how I felt: betrayed, used, soiled. He apologised but showed me Louis’ texts about the whole thing:
“She’s exaggerating, I didn’t rape her.”
“I was just high and wanted to get a girl easily.”
I was shocked but decided to put it all behind me to enjoy my summer. Obviously, it wasn’t exactly great. Rather, it was filled with nightmares, massive panic attacks and struggles to understand everything that had happened. Sam sent me 30 texts a day: my boyfriend had to call him to make him stop.
I was feeling harassed.
September arrived and, of course, Sam was in my class. I broke down in tears: how will I be able to spend a year with a boy who had done this? September was as awful as the summer before it, so I decided to have a talk with the boys. Sam was quite respectful and understood that he had messed up, but Louis couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong:
“why are you crying? We didn’t do anything”
“You never pushed us away, you even flirted with Sam all night”
and other awful things I still can’t write or say out loud.
My last year of high school was turning into a disaster. I was anxious anytime I saw them at school, I was crying a lot and struggled to focus on my studies; not what I needed when getting ready for the many exams I had to take after applying to the best schools in the country. I was under a lot of pressure so my boyfriend and my friends encouraged me to go to the school’s therapist.
I told her everything.
She took it all very seriously and immediately assured me that she will summon the boys, talk to them and even try to mix up the classes so I could study in peace. Yet, in the end, she did nothing besides calling my mother and telling me that she couldn’t act because the assault didn’t take place at school. I was angry.
Everyone at school knew: the therapist, the teachers, the vice- principal and even the headmaster. Nobody acted.
Finally, the boys got scared when I told them I was thinking about pressing charges. They asked to meet me in person and apologised for their behaviour. I wanted to get over this, so I thanked them and walked away. In the end, my whole final year was disturbed by an assault that might seem so innocent. I still feel guilty about the size of my trauma: how could I feel so bad after just a hand on my bum? What about girls who are really assaulted? I felt, and sometimes still feel, like a spoiled child traumatised for nothing compared to what others are going through.
Obviously, I also struggle with my body. I lost a part of it when they touched it that night and it will never come back. This assault also made me realise how much victims are not listened to. Like I said, everyone at school knew and no one did a thing. All the friends I had in common with Sam and Louis stopped talking to me because to them I was just a drama queen creating problems out of nothing.
I’m 19 now but I’m still quite traumatised. I didn’t go to nightclubs for two years because I was too afraid of the amount of guys who could possibly assault me. I left dozens of parties crying and shaking because a guy had been too close.
I stopped counting the panic attacks and nightmares.
But it’s getting better every day. Of course, I will never forget this assault and it has now become a part of me. But my trauma is going away, slowly, but surely. I feel better, and one day, I might even be totally okay.
Comments