Surviving Rape

The Reality of Reporting Your Rapist

I never thought this would happen to me.
It’s a late winter night. I’m sitting on my bed staring at the bright white wall in front of me. I glance over at the window to my left. The cream-coloured blinds are slightly open, and I can see the yellow streetlights shine against the dark indigo sky.
Most nights, I’m fine. Most nights, the incident doesn’t even cross my mind. However, some nights are hard. Some nights, the smallest thing happens. I eat something, hear something, or see something that reminds me of that night. Suddenly, it feels like I’m in the back seat of that maroon Jeep again.
I’d like to think that I’m in a much better place today than I was four years ago. In some ways, I am. I have stability, direction, and consistency. On the other hand, I’m just as unhappy, and I’m terrified of people as a result of what happened. I feel a strong responsibility to protect myself from getting hurt again. I never want to feel the way I felt that day again.
Things started out well that day. It was a sunny July day. The sky was clear and bright blue. I had nothing to do. My friend called me in the early afternoon. She and her boyfriend were on their way to a party that was just five minutes from my house. She asked me if I wanted to come. I had been going through a difficult time and thought this party would be an opportunity to have fun and forget about things for a little while. 

I happily agreed.
When we arrived, I was stunned at how nice the house was. The outside was dressed in grey and white bricks. It had three garage doors and a huge pool in the backyard. The house featured high ceilings, dark brown hardwood floors, and a big kitchen with marble countertops.
I had never met anyone who was there before, but everyone seemed nice and friendly. I was having a lot of fun. We spent most of our time in the backyard. We alternated between swimming in the pool and eating pizza and drinking beer. Of course, there was alcohol. I felt so out of control while drinking in my depressed state. I wanted to forget how I was feeling. After eight drinks, I felt carefree and happy.
I was sitting by myself in the pool when a guy came over and began talking to me. I had never met him before but knew that he was friends with my friend’s boyfriend. He had golden brown skin that was covered in tattoos. He had small brown eyes and wore black swimming shorts. After a few minutes of chatting, he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk.
We both hopped out of the pool and began walking away from the house. I could barely walk without falling. Everything looked blurry and felt slow.
When we reached the driveway, we saw my friend’s boyfriend’s maroon jeep. He suggested we sit in the car and talk. After we got in, it became clear that he didn’t want to talk. He began kissing me while insisting that we should have sex. I told him that I didn’t want to. He pulled my turquoise bikini bottoms off.

He raped me several times. I told him, again and again, why I didn’t want to have sex with him. I pushed him off me. I tried jumping out of the car while he dragged me back inside. None of it was enough to make him stop. I knew I wouldn’t be getting out of the car anytime soon. I looked around but there was no one. I lied and told him that I had changed my mind and did want to have sex with him, but that we should go back to the house to get a condom first. His demeanour changed as he agreed, and we left the car. I ran to my friend crying and explained what had happened. Her boyfriend drove me home.
The next day, I woke up in a lot of pain. I felt sore. My legs were bruised. My lips hurt when I opened my mouth and were covered in dried blood from being bitten so hard. I was shocked by what had happened. 

For the next few weeks, I was miserable.
When I began contemplating the idea of reporting what had happened, I told my best friend and her boyfriend. They tried to discourage me from doing it. They wanted to protect her boyfriend’s friend. 

“You’re such a bad person for trying to ruin his life,” her boyfriend said. 

I was stunned. 

“You shouldn’t have been drinking that much,” my friend said.  “If you report it, I’ll pretend I don’t know anything.” 

I really wanted to report the incident, but it seemed pointless without support.
About three months later, I decided to report the incident to the police. I lost my friends because of this. It took a few months to see if there was enough evidence to arrest him.
After he was arrested, we attended a preliminary court hearing before the trial.

Today, I’m still waiting for the trial. It’s something I try not to think about too much. When the time comes, I hope that he is found guilty of what he did to me. I still struggle sometimes because of what happened to me.

But I’m in a better place now.