A Collection of Open Letters

to my rapist

Trigger warning: Sexual Assault is mentioned

an open letter to my rapist–

prom night. junior year. too much to drink.

i continued to smoke even though i had no idea what was going on. i was sheltered from this type of stuff my entire life, i wanted to experience being wild. even if for one night.

i took you to prom because my boyfriend dumped me three weeks before. you were my co-worker. someone i trusted. you had never been to prom because you went to an adult high school to finish your GED. i thought i'd be nice and take you. we were friends, we joked around at work.

yes, you could spend the night at my best friends. yes, we'll get alcohol. no, you don't have to smoke, i know you're going into the military.

at dinner, we ran into my ex. he was pissed i took you.

too bad, i thought to myself. this could have been you.

you wouldn't dance with me. i don't know why, i took you here to be my date. i bought your ticket, the least you could do is dance with the sad girl who just got dumped. you didn't lay a hand on me.

 in front of anyone.

we got home. we started rolling blunts and drinking cheap alcohol. eric got too fucked up and started humping a pillow. my best friend was sucking her boyfriend's dick in front of us.

this isn't what i was expecting, i thought. maybe this was a bad idea.

nevertheless, i started to smoke because, well. my ex liked it enough to leave me to smoke all he wanted. maybe i'd like it, too.

a lonely boy who didn't take anyone to prom that night offered to go down on me. i politely declined. i had only done that stuff with a handful of people. those who i decided to give my heart to also had the pleasure of having my body. 

i was uncomfortable.

so you put an arm around me, saving me from that situation. i was grateful for you in that moment.

everyone decided to lay down and start having sex because that's what unsupervised children do after prom. we laid down and i wasn't expecting anything to happen, i made sure to tell you that we were just friends. 

i just wanted to sleep.

you had other intentions. i was seventeen, in a room full of people i thought i could trust.

i was too fucked up to say anything– to do a fucking thing. i writhed, trying to get you away, but nothing helped.

i was used and thrown to the side when you were done. you didn't even let me use a fucking blanket to hide my naked body.

the next morning, you asked if someone could take you home. my best friend smiled at me, under the impression i got lucky the previous night.

i was quiet for the entire weekend. i didn't go out. i didn't talk to anyone. i didn't say a fucking word. you scared the shit out of me, and when i confronted you about it, you said you thought it was completely consensual.

how could i consent when i couldn't even speak, let alone say yes or no?

i felt that all i could offer was my body to men for over a fucking year.

all i was for the next year was a meat sack, aiming to please the men around me.

this patriarchy is for polite women, not empowered.

i spent the last few years being angry and disgusted with trash like you. you may have taken a piece of me with you that night, but you will never take my voice. i have gone so long with keeping this quiet, with all the assault that has happened to me. how am i supposed to call myself a strong woman when i don't speak out about that night?

you raped me. 

and you may never be able to believe that, but you did. it's a fact. i never got a fucking apology and you know what? you don't even deserve to have the pleasure of apologising. i want you to live with the fact that you fucked up a teenagers life and the way she views relationships for the rest of your nauseating life.

if there's a hell, i hope you fucking burn in it, bastard.­­