Only a few select people truly know what happened to me. Years later and I am just starting to open up about my abuse.

I was 20 years old and in my sophomore year of college. I shared a class with Him. Ironically, that class was Sociology of Women. He added me on social media and we frequently messaged. One weekend I was throwing a party at my college apartment. I decided to invite Him. He showed up, clearly intoxicated already.

Throughout the entire party he was slightly aggressive towards me. Randomly pulling me in to kiss and lifting my dress up in front of other people at the party. I was already extremely uncomfortable but I just chalked it up to him being drunk because he was nothing like this in class. Towards the end of the night He asked me if I wanted to go and get food by a nearby pizza shop that was open late. At this point I was drunk as well.

We began walking, and he playfully pushed me. I playfully pushed him back. He then used more force when pushing me, I almost fell off the side walk to the road. Once again, I brushed off what I should not have brushed off. He was showing me his true colors and I blatantly ignored it. We continued to walk when he mentioned that he had already ordered the pizza and had it sent his apartment. In my gut, I felt something was wrong. Something was off.

I went with him anyways.

We walk into his apartment and he leads me straight to his room. He lays on his bed and gestures me to join him. I uncomfortably sit on the side of the bed. He pulls me down into a laying position. We began making out. His hands lower and he tries to pull my tights down. I immediately told him I did not want to have sex because I was on my period. He continues kissing me, a little harder this time. He starts to suck on my neck. I push him away. He pulls the top of dress down and begins sucking on my chest.

I tell him NO.

He then pulls himself on top of me and puts my arms above my head. Putting his entire body weight on me, restraining from any movement. I begin to squirm.

He laughs.

He asks me to try and escape his grasp. As if to challenge me. As if to prove He was the strong one and I was the weak. I begin to yell for him to get off. I am panicking and hyperventilating.

I was utterly terrified. In this moment, I genuinely believed he was going to rape me. And there was nothing I could do about it. I begin to thrash hard, and he finally rolls off of me.

I immediately jump out of the bed, searching for my phone so I could get the hell out of there. He had hid my phone from me. I begin yelling at him and insisting he gives me my damn cellphone. He looks at me like IM the psycho. He finally throws my phone at me.

I leave his apartment and start running, screaming and crying until I reached my apartment. I lay my head down on my pillow and cry myself to sleep. The next morning I woke up with bruises on my neck and chest.

The next day he messages me saying he enjoyed the night we had together and wanted hangout again.

I never reported what happened.

I may not have been physically raped but emotionally I felt I had been.

And I still had to see him everyday in class.

4 years have passed, I am engaged to an amazing man and we share a beautiful son. But what he did to me always lingers in the back of my mind.

And I fucking hate him for that.