After surviving a very traumatic assault the fall semester of my freshman year, I dissociated myself from a lot of what happened, but I would get flashbacks of this stranger at a party forcing his dick into my mouth. I heard the sounds of his moans and remember the feeling of not being able to escape, held down by him and by the inability to escape what happened. I thought I moved on, but I remember seeing him on the P2P and walking back to his dorm with him, where he assaulted me again. I was supposed to get closure and talk, but it just brought all of the pain to the surface. 

It was at this point where I started looking to other survivors. I learned more about the resources I had and I got better. I dealt with my pain and I got stronger. 

The next year, I was assaulted again, once by an acquaintance and a few times by a close friend. The semester continued on, and so did I. My friend stalked me and harassed me, but I was forced to keep him in my life. I tried to tell him I didn’t have feelings for him, but he told me that he I shouldn't let other things get in the way of our relationship. But I didn’t let all of his behavior trouble me, because I was bulletproof. 

For Halloween, I’m a queen. I go to Franklin Street with my friends and end up at a party where I meet Wolverine. I agree to go back with him. Little do I know, my drink was spiked.

He practically carries me to what he claims is his house. We go upstairs and start kissing in the middle of some lounge area. He forces his fingers up me, like he was trying to stab me with them. “Stop! It hurts” and he agrees to stop, but the next thing I know he’s jammed his fingers up me again. This back and forth goes on for a while, until I can’t take it anymore. I have to run into the bathroom, because I’m in so much pain. 

Eventually, I'm ready to leave after what seems like a lifetime and I go to get my phone, but it’s dead. I ask him to let me charge it somewhere, but he’s too busy playing a game. I take my crown and phone and leave. I start walking in some direction, but I honestly don’t know where I’m going. By some miracle, I find my way to Franklin Street, but I’m livid at this point. I couldn’t accept that it had happened again after I survived so much. I think to myself that I could have prevented this. I finally see people and some guys attempt to catcall me, but I tell them that if they even dare to look at me that I’d chop off their dicks. I felt like I was going to explode. I regain some strength after this and convince myself that I dealt with it. I see a familiar face and walk back with them to my dorm

I arrive at my room and overhear my friends comforted that everything is okay. I knew I couldn’t tell them, so I charged my phone and texted the only person I knew wasn’t going to feel bad, my stalker. I let myself be comforted by the person who was sucking the life out of me, but I thought I didn’t have anyone else. The night ends and I move on, because that’s all I can do. For weeks after, it hurt to pee and it hurt to use a tampon for months after, but eventually the pain went away.

I’m sure everybody would be shocked to know that all of this happened to me. How can one person go through so much and function normally? I don’t really have a great answer to that. Somehow, I did it. Being assaulted as a survivor and an ally was the hardest and most shameful experience for me, but I think I’ve moved on enough that I can accept that I didn’t have a bearing in what happened to me. This stranger hurt me and I didn’t do anything to deserve that. 

I’m putting myself back together again. I’m happier than I’ve been in years, even though I’ve lost so much along the way, but I don’t let it bring me down. It’s been hard. There is no denying that, but I wouldn’t change it. All of this pain has helped mold me into this beautiful and compassionate person. I found this love for people that touches the core of my soul. My life is so clear to me and I know good things are on the way.