Linfield Free Press

The Obvious Anonymous

Published by Anonymous on .

In order for you to really, truly get the full picture of my story, which officially occurred in the late summer of 2017, I will have to rewind to early June of the same season. I had been dating this guy for a while, reluctant to label it–we had been in a monogamous sexual relationship for a couple months. On this particular night, I was partying it up with my DuTcHiEs because like every other blonde white bitch in the PNW I was a part-time broista. After a night of drinking I called him to come and get me. My car was left at the goodwill dutch, and he took me to his place across from 711 (I know, creepy already). We ended up watching a Quentin Tarantino movie...

Only my rapist would choose Inglorious Bastards over every other movie. This bitch needed to be watching Jackie Brown and Django Unchained. At this point in the relationship I had noticed many red flags: the fact that he was nearly illiterate (I had corrected all of his essays, armed with a nearly perfect writing SATs score); he microwaved his lotion (textbook sociopathic behavior, albeit a good idea); and he was less than fully erect most of the time we engaged in sexual contact...or he had a small and floppy penis. Either way. The moral of the story is, severely depressed and fresh out of a four (yes four) year relationship, I found myself being intentionally ignorant. He was actually cute, and I super wanted to make my ex-boyfriend at the time jealous, so my 18 year old ass was like, 'Let's ride, you are a good candidate.'

After months of fucking we had reached the impetus of this night. He and I are watching IB with his roomie, Carson. (Carson, if you are reading this, you are my hero!!) I’m sitting there bored and relatively horny, so I start spritzing him with water through the side of my straw. I am aware that is annoying and immature, but sue me. He turns to me and dumps his entire glass of ice water on my head. I was literally in shock. I never cry, but I suddenly felt like I was going to sob. I ran up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door and kkw-level broke down.

I felt stupid, but it was embarrassing and shocking, so I just got emo for a sec by myself. After gathering my thoughts, I was able to repair the mess of mascara on my cheeks and prepare to face him. I think I was going to ask for a ride home. I tried the door. It was locked. I unlocked it. It was still locked. I am thinking... 'Am I actually this dumb? How can I not open the door?' So I try like four more times: lock, unlock, lock, unlock, no luck. So I text him, he doesn’t answer.

I text Carson, he immediately comes running! He’s like 'omg sister let me help you,' and I am like 'thank you so much I am considering switching my sexual loyalties!!' So he and I are talking through the door, brainstorming, fucking w/ the hinges, trying credit cards, etc. Nothing is working, and it is literally 1am at this point. We call facilities, cause we are on Linfield campus... obvi, where else does this kind of shit happen??

Naturally, because its 1am and it’s the power of the small college, it takes a whole-ass hour to get anyone to even come to me. So I’m like dehydrated, fucking bored, and Carson deadass keeps me entertained the whole time, and somehow this massive beast of a man is able to bend a solid wood door and hand me a screwdriver. Now, if you have been able to piece together who I am at this point, you are probably aware that I am very handy with a screwdriver. I immediately start railing the hinges with a screwdriver and some heavy object. Right as I get the last hinge off, at like 2am, the facilities guy showed up. I was like, 'okay great this is very helpful thank you.' I literally washed my face, got in his bed, and tried to sleep. He tried to make a move. I blew him off.

I woke up at 4:30am, finally sober. My stomach was turning. Something told me I needed to get out of there. I had no car. My car was like 3 miles away by freaking planet fitness. So I grab my Vera Bradley bag, pack it, set it by the door, leave the door WIDE open hoping some townie murders him (context: Carson is so large, tall, and wonderful that even a townie would never kill ‘em). I armed myself with 2 sports bras and started running. I started thinking about the first two times I was raped. I felt scared like that. I felt the flight and the fight surging through my veins and arteries.

I ran faster. Three miles felt like nothing, even minor-ly hungover. I walked in the shop, took a quad of white coffee, promised myself I would never see him again, and embarked on a 4 day road trip with my lifelong best friend. We spent the next four days loving nature, enjoying each other, and allowing me to heal from that weird, uncomfortable excuse for a relationship.

A couple months passed. It was the dead of summer. I was still working at dutch cause they legit wouldn’t let me quit… I don't know why; they’re very culty. I am hanging out with my new best friend, we will call her Ashley. Remember Ashley. She suffered just as much as I did in this case... maybe even more. She and I were looking for a place to get shit-faced. Yanno, just underclassmen things. It’s late summer, and nobody has come back for the next year. So we get a hold of him. The one who watched Inglorious Bastards instead of helping me escape my bathroom cage. After many weeks of healing and normalizing I pretended none of that was relevant; besides, Ashley would be right by my side the whole time. So we go to his place for what we were told was a party.

There were maybe 7 people there besides Ashley and me. They were all men, and they were all from out of town. None of them knew each other, none of them knew me, and we knew none of them. It was already very bizarre. We had one bottle of barefoot moscato (I haven’t drank it since that day), and we ended up splitting it about 70/30. She ended up tipsy, and I was damn near sober. As the night progressed, the boys were drunk; he was sober. I ended up bonding with one of the guys–I will call him Joe. He was from the coast somewhere and had a fiery passion for sustainability, just like me. He was way cuter than my old flame and way more emotionally intelligent. I was absolutely turning on all of my charm. I figured I would get his number the next morning. I was wrong.

We all started to get into bed for the night. I hopped in his bed with Ashley. He got in. I jokingly but not so jokingly said get out. He did not. I decided it wasn’t worth the battle. I started to fade into a sleep. I heard Ashley giggling, so I started to eavesdrop on the conversation that they were having in the same bed as me. He was trying to convince her to have a threesome...with me...even though I was asleep...and hadn't expressed interest in him, let alone a threesome.

I froze. He got in the middle of us. I stayed frozen. My face pressed on the drywall. I noted the thick coat of white paint that made my nose and lips cold as I shrunk away from his breath on my neck. He started trying to convince me, whispering into my right ear as I continued to try to recede with nowhere to go. I could feel that familiar feeling. The hairs on my neck, the dilation of my pupils, the clenching of my fist. This time I was fighting. I would not freeze or run like the last times. I said no. Quietly at first. He ignored me and started feeling my boobs.

They’re wonderfully large and pierced and all things attractive and appealing, but DO NOT fucking touch them without my consent or so help YOU god. So I am processing for a second and thinking about my next move. I say "No" more firmly. And follow it with a louder: "STOP IT." He starts saying some bullshit like, 'Come on,' or whatever. I can't even remember. He keeps pushing. Both verbally and physically. I hear nothing from Ashley. She froze.

He pulled my pants down and penetrated me.

I felt the sting of another man stealing another piece of my soul. I felt him rip my freedom out of my chest, and I felt him steal my dignity and credibility as he shoved his body inside of me. It was probably only a second. Maybe two. But I swear to you it felt like an hour. What I haven't noted up until this point, is that I am also a complete badass. I have a pretty substantial muscular portion of my body mass, and I did karate for 3 years. Ended up with a blue belt and a whole lot of confidence when I wanna mouth off. I took a deep breath in. Pulling air from the textured crevices of the sheetrock, I stretched my right arm high above my head, channeling every ounce of Kill Bill I had in me, and in one swift motion drew my elbow down. It connected with an audible snap. I felt my ulna make contact with the intercostal portion between two ribs. I genuinely think I broke or fractured a rib in that moment. He recoiled his hand FAST. He stopped. I heard Joe mumble from the other side of the room. He said something along the lines of 'What's happening?' or 'Is everything okay?'

I never got his number. I don't remember his name. Sometimes I wonder if he remembers that night. Or me. Or if he knows what happened.

I ‘slept’ in bed that night. With my rapist. After he violated me. Right next to my best friend.

At 6am I woke Ashley up. I said 'come on bb we are going home.' We left at 6:03am without a word. We got in the car. Ashley turned to me. She looked at me with her massive beautiful eyes and her natural lips that screamed 'I am pumped with JUVÉDERM.' She had tears on the grisps of her lids. “You were raped last night.” She let a tear fall.

I looked back and said, “Yes I was.” And started my car.

In the end, he got what he wanted that night. My rape was premeditated. I emasculated him many weeks earlier. I left him without a trace. After the bathroom incident I ghosted him completely. He never heard a word until I reappeared the night of my assault. Rape is about power. It isn’t about sex. I’m not even sure he is heterosexual to begin with. He wanted to take my power away from me. But the good news is, my power is not tangible. It is not something he can steal. There is nothing he could ever do or say to strip me of my grit and passion. In the end, I came to the realization that he was the weak one and he was the coward. Not me.

There is so, so much more I can tell you about this story. So much more tea I can and will spill. I just don’t want to make this a 20 page paper. This isn’t Info Gathering, and frankly I don’t write much these days if I can avoid it. School may or may not have sucked the fun out of it. Anyways, if this was impactful to you or helpful for you or even just educated you, please respond in some capacity. I am more than willing to keep telling my story should there be people who are willing to listen. Thank you so much for those of you who made it through this one!