About a year ago, when I had just turned 15, I met a guy in my sophomore gym class. He was tall, had long hair, was a druggie and an alcoholic (I didn't know that at the time) and he was very, very nice to me. He was about 6'2" and maybe 200 lbs, for context I'm 4'10" and 95 lbs. 

He, let's call him by his middle name Derek, was strong and he was nice to me, he made jokes and helped me with our exercises because I have small lungs and struggled with doing as much cardio as everyone else. He made me feel special, I guess, I trusted him and he was my friend.

Sometime during first semester, something changed. He got more touchy-feely, I ignored it and politely turned down any advancements like I did with anyone who approached me. I had recently gotten out of a relationship with another girl, and I was very much still hurting from it. During this time, Derek had convinced my family that his mom was an alcoholic and that they never had food in the fridge and that he walked 2 miles every day to get to school and back. My family and I took pity on him, and because he wasn't that far from where my best friend's house was, we were picking her up everyday, we decided to also pick him up.

It was just after this started that it first happened. It was maybe a Wednesday, it was cold outside but not snowing yet. Maybe October? Anyways, he told me to follow him after gym, and I had no reason to not trust him, so I did.

When we got to the second level of the school, he brought me into this small corridor that connected the art and music halls. It was a small, dark and long corridor that had no surveillance cameras in sight and even though there were doors lining the hall, it was rarely used other than for costumes for theatre or band practices. He told me to stay quiet and he went around the edge of the corridor. I waited for a while before he came out from behind the corner and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the men's bathroom. He dragged me, confused and dazed, into the back stall. He locked the door behind him and pushed me against the wall, holding his hand over my mouth and ripped off my leggings and pushed up my sweatshirt and he raped me. I sobbed and tried to push him away, but he was so strong and I was just so small and insignificant to him. When he finished, he pulled his pants up and I dropped to the floor and cried hard, almost passing out. I remember the smell of blood and shit and of his cologne. He smiled down at me and told me to go back to class, then he walked out and left me to pick up the pieces of my virginity. He'd taken my virginity and there was blood everywhere. I had blood on my sweatshirt and my underwear and my thighs. It hurt so fucking bad to stand up and stumble into the nurses office.

I made up an excuse to the nurse, something like "I was throwing up and I still feel very ill. Can you call my mom to pick me up?" I guess I looked so pale that she bought it, and I went home and laid in bed and cried and bled. The bleeding lasted for 3 days. Even now, penetration hurts so bad I can barely stand it. 

He raped me about 4 more times after that. One time he choked me so long I almost passed out and I thought I was going to die. And you know what? I wanted to die. I wanted him to kill me because at least that would mean I wouldn't have to live like so many others do: in fear and alone and so fucking depressed they take their own lives.

So, that brings me to what happened when I reported this? My school, the place it happened in, didn't like the sound of it at all. Not because it was a horrendous thing that should never happen to anyone, but because it meant they were liable. They kept me in questioning for 2 hours and told Derek what was going on before they even called my mom OR the police. See, the legal system has a very specific way of handling these things, and one thing you never do is question the victim before the police do. The school then deleted their security footage and changed records to make it seem like my mother knew I was in the office for 2 hours. 

It wasn't until we supinad the people who questioned me and the teacher I told that they held their investigation. That was 2 months after I reported it and weeks after they let Derek graduate from high school. He was 17 and I was 15. 

How am I handling it? I can't go near the school anymore, it scares me. The smell of sex makes me vomit and cologne makes me gag if it smells like his did. I hate myself for being so stupid, so naïve to have let him take my life from me but at the same time I hate him because I couldn't fight back and he knew it. That's why he chose me. I was an all honors, all A student. I had my whole life ahead of me, and he took that. He made me relapse and start self harming and he made me so fucking scared of being outside and having contact with people that I lock myself in my room and refuse to go out of my house unless absolutely necessary. 

But, it's not the end for me.  To those who have experienced sexual assault, this last part is for you. You will never be able to forget what happened, no matter how hard you try. And that's okay. No one expects you to. And no one expects you to forgive them either. It's okay to cry and scream and hate everyone and anyone who couldn't protect you then but know they are here now and they will do their damndest to make sure you get through this. It's not the end for you either. I won't lie, sometimes it's gonna feel like the whole world doesn't believe you and that everyone is against you and that it's your fault but it's not. It never fucking was your fault. I'm so sorry you had to go through it, it hurts so bad no one can imagine what you're going through but everyone who loves you will try to and they will be there when you are so low you want to end it. You just have to be there for yourself too. I believe you, I believe in you. So, please, don't let them take everyone from you, be better than them and spit in their face when you are the best person you could be and their so much lower than you. 

Take care everyone,

Precilla