Stripped Down

No one tells you how to move on from such an unspeakable day. I was raped; a sentence I have only told three people and none of those people are in any way related to me. I can’t even begin to express how scared I am to tell them, and maybe I never will but my story doesn’t just end there.

Let me rewind a bit. Tinder is a thing I logged into the first time the summer I was 18. It was... an experience to say the least. I would meet with a guy and it just wouldn’t work out.

I met him in June 2017. If I was smart and not so hopeless with romance I would’ve seen the signs. We would hang out at the mall on the days I wasn’t working. He wanted me to meet his mother. I said okay. Instant regret. I have social anxiety and hate meeting new people. I drove over around noon and walked up the stairs to his house. It was dark, all the curtains drawn closed. Dog barking. I replay this day in my head everyday. What I could’ve done differently, if I had moved this way or said that. He brought me to his room.

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“Guess she’s not here,” He replied.

He closed the door and jumped on the bed. I’m stuck standing by the door.

“So wanna go back to my house?”

“Why can’t we stay here for a bit?” He raises his brow.

I should’ve left, I should’ve ran, I should’ve done a lot more. He stood up and pulled me to his bed. He’s on top. It’s hot. No windows open. I’m lost for words; stuck. He’s fine for a minute then he starts to move his hands. I try to stop him, push him away, nothing stops him. He lifts up my sweatshirt and pulls down my leggings. I’m frozen and crying, stuck in time, unable to comprehend, or think. He moves his fingers lower.

Snap.

The hinges on the door snaps as his dog runs in. He stands to close the dog out of the room and the dog opens its mouth around his crotch and chomps. He’s on the floor in pain as I run out the door. I forget where the door is and run to the bathroom. No phone. Only my keys. I turn and grab the door. It won’t close, his foot is stopping me. He laughs, egotistical. My vision’s cloudy with tears as he pushes me against the door frame. He tells me I want this, he tells me I need him. What I need is to find the door. He grabs my wrist and brings my hand between his legs. He tells me I’m doing this to myself, that’s I’m making him do this to me. I’m crying harder. He tells me to stop. I’m balling my eyes out and he’s screaming for me to stop crying. He pushes me to the side and tells me to leave. I’m frozen again. He opens the door and kicks me out. I leave. New meaning to walk of shame.

The worst part is 10 months later in April I would be in another situation. I had graduated college that December and was looking for a career type job that wasn’t a cashier at a grocery store. I interviewed for a receptionist at a photography studio and got the job. I was driving to the studio and arrived early. I was waiting in the parking lot as another car pulls in. A guy steps out, he says my name and he tells me he’s the manager. I follow him into the building.

We sit down as other photographers roll in. He gives me the company laptop and we start training. He keeps moving closer as I move further. He rubs my knee and asks if I have a boyfriend. I ignore him and ask him a question about the job.

He trains the other employees and I have a minute to breath. I text my mom and say it’s not the right fit. He comes back and we get back to training. His phone keeps going off and he picks it up. Multiple texts from multiple girls. Sexts and racy pictures he angles his phone towards he as he says, “Women right?”

I don’t laugh, I don’t smile. His smirk goes away. He reprimands me when I don’t say the mail has arrived like I’m a child. We get back to training while everyone complains about not having a break yet. We discuss how we’ve been working for half a day and he says they can all go on break. He says I can’t because there is so much training.

His boss calls him and wants him to go to the bank for her. He says how I have to go with him to learn and take notes. I’m hesitant and say no but he talks to a coworker and she says that’s normal, that everyone does it. I leave with him in his car. Regret. It’s a short 2 minute drive but it feels like hours. The whole time it’s training then harassment and more training then more harassment.

He says things like if we were to photograph a prom we would have to “fit in” and dance with the high schoolers. Then he goes on about how to dance and if I know how to dance. I say yes. Short and simple. He asks me if I know how to club dance and I ignore him. He goes on again asking if I grind on my boyfriend. Ignore. He keeps on about if I were to grind on him in a club it’d be okay, that he would enjoy it, but it’s not appropriate for a prom.

We’re done with the bank. But we drive past the studio. He drives up the road to his bank. We walk in and he reaches for my hand. I avoid and pull away. He says that we're out of the office and we would look more normal. Ignore. He goes up to the teller and we walk out. He let me go in front of him obviously checking me out. We head back to the office and when we get back he lets me go on my lunch break.

I drive down the road to a plaza and call my mom sobbing. I can’t believe something happened again. I call him, tell him I quit, and hang up on him. I drive home foggy eyed as he calls 2 more times.

I arrive home and mom questions me. Why I left, where I’m going to work now, what happened. I go upstairs unable to even comprehend.

To this day I haven’t told my family about either. I’m embarrassed. Confused. Emotionally drained.