In Middle School, I remember my 8th grade health teacher talking to my class about the importance of protection when having sex. Back then, the mention of sex brought a blush to my cheeks and a snicker to my lips. Now, the mention of sex brings me to tears.
As a freshman in High School, I thought I was going to make it without a bruise on my body or a scary story under my belt. Unfortunately, towards the end of my Freshman year of High School, I was raped. The words "sex" and "rape" meant nothing to me until that moment. That scary story was not only thrown under my belt, but wrapped around my whole existence.
In those health classes, I was also told about the importance of not drinking until you are of legal age. Honestly, I think about 1% of my grade listened to that health teacher's advice. Now I wish I was included in that 1%.
The party that took place on the night of February 24, 2013 cannot be described. At first, it was fun. My first High School party. My first taste of alcohol and freedom and what I thought was "growing up". I continued to glance over at Tyler Crawford as he made his way over to the drinks. I watched as he chugged whatever liquid rested softly in that red solo cup before grabbing the hips of the nearest girl and guiding her to the beat of the song.
I tried not to watch or be disappointed, but I was. Before seeing him do that, I had planned to not drink, but after seeing that, all I wanted was to get his attention. I thought getting drunk would be the way to accomplish that. So, I grabbed the nearest cup and drank. Then the next one. And the one after that.
As my vision got blurry and my words began to slur, I could feel myself slowly slipping and I couldn't pull myself out. Before I knew it, I was alone in a room, my clothes being pulled off my body. All that could escape my mouth was a soft wimper as a fuzzy figure threw me onto the floor and did what he wanted.
I wasn't even good enough for a bed.
