Tell Someone

I didn't know what was going on when it happened, I was too young to understand. But as I look back on it now, I know what he did was vile. I trusted him, but then again I was only a child. I wasn't capable of understanding what would happen if he got me alone. He was a teenage boy, I was a teenage girl. Just children.

He was my friend. I went to him for help with homework and gossiped to him about drama happening in school. I trusted him, but he used me.

We were at a party, I had too many drinks, my mistake. I was drunk, he wasn't. He danced with me, and when I wanted to leave he gave me another drink. He led me into a room, I still remember the striped blue wallpaper. He pushed me on the bed, I still remember the fresh smell of the duvet. He laid on top of me, I can still smell his strong aftershave. He pinned my arms down. I was drunk, but I knew I didn't want to do what he intended to do. He pushed his chapped lips against mine and that's when it finally clicked what he was trying to do. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I wanted him to stop and I voiced that. No one came to help. My screams were helplessly drowned out by the music that the other's were dancing to.

It was two hours later when he finally stopped. My throat was numb and my wrists were already developing bruises from where he gripped them. He told me that I better not tell anyone, that on one would believe me if I did. I'd just be that girl, forever labelled, no escape from the mindful stares. I believed him. He left right after that. I shook and ached all over. I was scared, still in shock.

I gathered my wrinkled clothes from around the room. I walked home. When I got home my parents had asked me why I was home, I was supposed to stay with a friend. I was about to tell them, I really was, but then what he had said echoed throughout my mind. I looked into my parents' eyes and told them that I felt sick. Lies.

I went to school the next week, he was in the halls laughing with his friends. Like nothing ever happened. I then isolated myself from everyone else. No more friends. No more laughing. No more trust. A lot more stares. That continued all throughout high school.

Now here I am. I have recovered, thankfully, but I can never forget. That night will be forever imprinted in my mind.

If I was to go back I wouldn't drink, I would steer clear of him, I wouldn't follow him into the room, I'd tell my parents. God, I wished I told someone sooner. I wish I could go back. If only that's how life worked.