Part Of Me

Part Two.

July 14, 2018 and July 15, 2018 were two of the worst days of my life. The Sunday that followed was even more worse. 

Chris Sanchez. At twenty-one years old, he was already in the military and "thriving." He went to dancing clubs on the weekends and played on a PlayStation in his room at the barracks.

I never was able to get the real story on him, but that's what happens when you try to start dating people on a app that's made for sex. Tinder is an app I will never understand. It's an app that I hate with a passion, even more than Facebook. But I had a tinder account before I met my fiancé in August.

There I connected with so many gross and explicit guys it was ridiculous. But I was curious and wanted to know everything about sex. I wanted to understand why it was so vital to the human race. I figured out, but not in the right ways.

July 13th, I met Chris Sanchez around the outskirts of Ft. Campbell at an ammo shop. I was waiting to pick up Chris after his friend dropped him off there. I was thinking the entire time how crazy I was to do all of that. I was nervous as he got into my mother's car with me. My car was messed up and in the auto shop, so I didn't have any transportation besides my mom's car.

My adrenaline was up super high as this buff, 6'3 dude climbed into the car. I was already consumed with the high of associating with a dude that was 15000x out of my league, but it began to fade. I drove him into Ft. Campbell and passed the guard dudes as they looked at our ID's. We drove around the base and he talked to me about the different sorts of aircraft in the graveyard-ish feel to the memorial. There were these massive aircraft shells just sitting in the middle of the base and it was the best thing about that visit.

We went back to his room in the barracks where we played PlayStation until I got tired of it and I wanted to watch a movie. Before I even started playing video games, he tried to kiss me. I was freaked out because I knew beforehand we were talking about hooking up and having sex, but I never thought it would be immediately. So, I stood my ground that time and we hung out for a little bit before hooking up. That night I had asked him to use protection, but he denied using it. I was scared, and I knew it wasn't okay to have a guy decline protection. That was the one thing I wished could've changed was the lack of protection. He never actually finished inside me, but I was still worried indefinitely.

I went home that night feeling weird and worried. Mom was upset because I didn't answer her in the timeliest manner and I stayed until 10:30pm. I was supposed to be home at 10:30pm. I got home by 11:00pm. Mom was mad at me until I talked to her about it and explained that I lost the track of time. She told me that everything was okay, I just needed to obey her time limit out and take care of myself and her car. The rest of that night, he asked me if I could stay the next night. I had asked my mom, who was totally cool at the time, and she was fine with it.

That night, I got my overnight bag together. My mom puts an almost full bottle of tequila in my backpack along with margarita salt and limes. She doesn't tell my stepdad until the minute I leave. I drive back to the base, back through the guards, and I pick him up. We go to Longhorn and have dinner and we come back to his room. On the way to his room, we see a group of his buddies and they all catcall and yell at him. "Hey! Hell, yeah get that tail!" I Immediately get uncomfortable and I feel weird. We get into the room, and he makes me a drink in a Gatorade bottle. I don't drink it, but I have some of the tequila from the bottle in my backpack. So, there I am: I'm slightly buzzed, I have a guy ready to have sex with me after he just took like five shots of tequila, and I'm for certain time has either slowed or sped up. We start hooking up, it's nice, but after declining protection yet again, even though I have some in my backpack, I start feeling super weird. I drank a little more, feeling a little more blurred, and he takes a break. My mom calls me making sure I'm okay. Everything is fine until we get back to hooking up. I told him I wanted to try anal, but I wasn't sure I was ready to. He still went for it, even though I explained that I wasn't ready for it. He shoved himself in me time after time and I screamed because it hurt so bad. I wondered if anyone could hear me through the brick walls. He kept shoving himself over and over and over. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back sharply. He kept screwing me faster even though I kept screaming. I couldn't say anything because it hurt so bad. I kept wondering if someone would stop him. If someone would get him off of me so it would stop.

It didn't until he decided to do something else. He finished on my stomach and I didn't know how to handle how I felt. This guy was so big, and I was so scared he would do something if I tried to leave. So, I took a shower in his bathroom. I tried to gather my thoughts and process what happened. I was bleeding out of my bottom and I teared up. I was scared, and I couldn't go to the bathroom for a few days after that. I stayed that night, even though I should've gone home. My mom was pissed at me the morning after. She explained that her friend was gang raped my military guys when she was younger, and she was furious. I was blamed for that evening. I was the one who faced the judgement of that night, even though I was reassured it was okay. Even though I was given the ammo, I was the one who faced retaliation when I acted upon it.

To this day, my mother doesn't know that I was raped. I don't ever think I'll be able to let her know without offending her. I've told my fiancé, my stepmom, my grandmother on my dad's side, and my closest friend from high school.

But those are my stories. They aren't the worst ones, but they are what I've been through. I hope to educate my children when I have them and hopefully they will be able to avoid experiences like these. I'm sorry if it isn't much of a usual rape story, and I'm sorry if I offend anyone. This is my story, and I hope to educate the younger generations with it.

Thank you for reading.