The Part That Was Unspoken.

May 30th, 2021

You never wake up and predict what is going to happen throughout the day. It was a normal day for me. I never really went to parties or anything like that. My mom had me as a teenager so she is very protective of me. I always argued with her about it though. Don't get me wrong, I am so very grateful for her. I just never really understood the "bad" she always taught me about in the world. That evening I recieved a text from one of my good friends B asking me if I wanted to go to a "small gathering" with her and our group at our friend Lil's house. B never really gave me a reason not to trust her. I've known her since the sixth grade. I always admired how bold and reckless she was. She offered to give me a ride to the party. It took me all day to finally convince my mom to let me go. The only reason she had said no at first was because she didn't know Lil's parents. Of course I thought she was being over dramatic. Eventually I put it in her head that she was. So she let me go. I didn't know what to expect. I figured I knew the people that were going to be there so I was not really stressing it. I threw on a hoodie, sweats, and my favorite pair of Jordans. I didn't bother to do my makeup. B finally texted me that she and her father were outside. I got in her father's car and we drove for about eighteen minutes. We ended up at a small house with people scattered around the place. It was Memorial Day Weekend so I figured maybe they were having a BBQ. I enter the house and I notice Lil's mom and her friend were drinking. The friend was already looking a little drunk. I felt a feeling in my gut. I felt like calling my mom but I didn't. I continued to make my way into the house and up to Lil's room. Lil had just got out the shower and was putting on clothes. There were three other girls in the room. "Is there anyone else here?" I questioned. Lil nodded and replied, "Yeah the boys are in my brother's room." I remember she turned and continued to play her alternative playlist. A few minutes later her door busts open. The boys walked in. People I have never seen in my life. Then I saw him, Zay. He was tall with brown skin. He had long curly hair that was in a bun. He was cute. I never denied that. He locked eyes with me and smirked. I felt awkward. We started to play games. Every high school party has games to it. At least that's what I learned from movies. Zay kept moving closer and closer to me. Eventually he got close enough to where he was groping me. I felt his hands squeezing my arm pulling me closer to him. I moved away every time. Smash or pass was the chosen game. Everyone either smashed or pass each other. Then, it was my turn. "Bre, smash or pass Zay," is all i heard. I looked at him. He was standing looking at me with strong eye contact. You would never think and innocent game can make such an awful event occur. I tried to be like B. I wanted to be bold. "Smash," I replied with no hesitation. After that I sat down on the bed next to B. Zay came and sat behind me. Everyone was sitting, talking, drinking, smoking, listening to music. I felt hands wrap around my waist. I pushed them off of me. Zay got up very annoyed by me. He looked at me once again and this time said, "I think i'm going to go get a drink. You should come with and maybe we can go somewhere." I quickly responded with a no. He walked off. Ten minutes later I noticed my two guy friends were missing. I texted them to see where they were at. I started to get bored so I decided to wander. I entered the hallway only to find Zay coming towards me. He pinned me against the wall and was breathing in my face. I smelt the weed on his breath. "Zay get off of me," I demanded. He started to laugh as he reached his arm to Lil's bedroom door. He shut it. I could hear Sex On Fire by Kings Of Leon playing in the background. The feeling in my gut began to rise. I pushed him away from me and tried to walk away. His left hand came around my neck and slammed me against the wall. I used all my forced to get his hand off my neck. Except every time, the grip only got tighter. I began to panic. His right hand wandered under my shirt. I couldn't fight him off. He was bigger. He was stronger. I felt hopeless. In that moment, I prayed to god. Then, one of my guy friends walked out the room. Zay hopped off of me. I saw B sitting on the bed still. I mouthed with my lips, "HELP". She laughed. Zay then shut the door again. I tried to run. He just grabbed me again. This time, I froze. I was ready to die. He choked me. His hand entered my pants and his fingers penetrated me. I cried. All I could do was close my eyes. I will never forget the way he looked at me. I was weak. In that moment, I was not only ready to die. I wanted to die. I wanted it to be over. I had no control over my body. I didn't think to hit him. I didn't think to yell. I just stood there hopeless. Almost like I was not there in that moment. I saw my friend Sean walk out the room. Zay took his hands off of me and walked away. I ran towards Sean. I tried to wipe away my tears. I was faced with a hard decision. Who do I tell? I spent the rest of my night in a police station and a hospital. I was numb. I shed so many tears that I could not cry any longer. The police caught him that night. I had a rape kit done. I had to strip in front of a random female nurse. She took pictures of my neck which was bruised from his hands. She was the first person to tell me, "It was not your fault." I didn't believe her. After that night, every single day is hard for me. Every night is hard for me. I lost a lot ever since that happened. I got texts from every person that was there that night. Apologies, apologies, and more apologies. Everyone promised they would be there to help me get through it. They lied. Suddenly, I am the "problematic" one. Suddenly, I am "blaming" people. Although, lets not forget who invited me. Let's not forget who laughed when I asked for help. Let's not forget who walked passed numerous times and didn't bother asking why I was crying. However, I will not blame anyone. I never have anyway. I spent nights crying myself to sleep. I spent nights wondering what's the point. I spent nights remembering his face when he looked at me. Things don't get better. They get worst. And for that reason being is because the worse teaches you how to overcome it. I am writing this now, five months later, reliving every bit of that day to tell the side of the story that no one talks about. The victim's story.