I was 15, and a virgin. I was a sensible teenager to an extent but still very naive, I was in the popular group at school, had lots of friends, and enjoyed “fitting in”. On the weekends we Hung around with the older lads, the 18 year olds, some in relationships with younger girls, some not.
This one in particular, let’s call him *luke* was flirting with my friend one weekend, she had drank a lot and was very drunk, she tried to kiss him, he turned her down because she was drunk, we all thought he was really decent for doing so. The week after, me and a couple of girls arrived at the house, Luke asked us if we wanted a drink, I said I was okay as I didn’t want to drink that night, he called me soft and told me to just have a small one, so I agreed, not wanting to make a big fuss or seem too much like the boring one, I let him make it for me.
He brought everyone’s drinks in, and gave me mine, it was vodka and lemonade, in a pint glass, half full. I tasted it, and it wasn’t strong at all, so I drank it. I’d drank a lot more than that at one time in the past and been ok, but this time was different, within half an hour the room was spinning and I was sat on the toilet with my eyes rolling around, being sick and slurring my words, I could barely stand up. I blanked out and next thing I know I woke up to him, we was upstairs in the attic room, he was undoing my jeans and he started having sex with me. I heard my friends downstairs asking where I was, for them to be told I had just gone to the shop with Luke. But I hadn’t, I was led there, totally unable to move, out of shock I don’t know! After it ended, I slid down the attic stairs on my bum, and my friend was at the bottom, as soon as she saw me I burst into tears, but didn’t say anything, I was going to be sick again so she took me to the toilet.
She said she knew then something was wrong but we never mentioned it again, not until months later when my mum found a letter, or more of a diary entry I had written, stating how it wasn’t my fault and how I felt about what had happened. I somehow blamed myself, that I went along with it, I didn’t stop it, I was to drunk, I had chosen to drink that drink, but truth is, I trusted him.
I didn’t want to cause any trouble, so I left it at that and never mentioned it again, I eventually opened up to a few mutual friends about it and they never spoke to him again, but deep down inside it affected me in ways I never imagined it could. I wish I had of reported it, but back then, I blamed myself and I didn’t even see how wrong it was, I thought I was a grown up, but I was still a child, and he should of known better.
Anonymous