It was a Monday in November when Eric raped me.

I always had RA duty on Monday nights that semester, and it was the week I had my senior portraits taken for the yearbook. Really it should have been like every other Monday night: quiet around the building and me socializing with my staff and residents while also trying to finish last minute homework between rounds. And it all went south with one text message. It had been an overall rough semester. I had a lot on my plate with school and my RA job, not to mention issues with my personal life and coming down with mono. To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. On top of all that, the weekend before I had heard that Jason wasn’t doing so well. He was horribly depressed since I had ended things with him and made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t coming back. I knew it had been leaked to me in the hopes that I would go crawling back to him. It didn’t work, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe this time he’d do something drastic. This bled over into the whole Eric issue from earlier in the semester. Marie was doing well, happier since she had ended things with him. But she told me that Eric would stop by her apartment sometimes, begging her to just talk to him. She didn’t budge of course and told him to stop coming by or she’d call someone to have him escorted out. Not long after all of this, I saw a post from Eric on Facebook and it simply read: “I wish it all would just end.” At the time I didn’t think too much of it. Eric was dramatic, and I thought he was just feeling sorry for himself and wanted some attention. However when I went to bed that night, I dreamt that Eric had killed himself and that the Facebook post had been his last cry for help before he hung himself in his room.I woke up the next morning in a state. Even though I knew it was just a dream, I couldn’t shake of this feeling that there was something of the truth in that post. So I did the thing I promised myself I wouldn’t do anymore: I texted him. I just wanted to make sure that he was alright, to let him to know that I still cared about his wellbeing, and that if he did something to hurt himself, and I didn’t stop it, it would kill me. Eric texted back fairly quick and assured me that he was fine. He didn’t really know why he had actually posted the Facebook status, but that he had no intention of killing himself and that he hadn’t had those kinds of thoughts since high school. I told him I was glad, and I felt such irrational relief, even though deep down I knew it didn’t have anything to do with him. I was really worried about Jason, but didn’t want to even go down that road. Originally, I had intended to just check in on Eric and leave it at that. But then, he started asking how I was doing, how I was feeling since I had mono, and if things were going okay. And just like that, he sucked me back in. I did have a good support system of friends and family, don’t get me wrong. But something about reconnecting with an old friend, even one who had abused our friendship like he did, was cathartic. Like maybe if I could fix this, I wouldn’t feel like such a failure. Before long, I found myself texting him all day, telling him about this guy who had led me on and then decided he didn’t want anything to do with me, how he was probably the one who gave me mono, and how even though I was happy to be away from Jason, I missed the intimacy of being with someone. For a while, Eric listened to my problems just like he used to when we were close, empathizing with me and telling me that he knew what I was going through. Eric admitted to screwing up with Marie; that it was all his fault that she left him. He even apologized for what he had done to me and how much he regretted ruining the great friendship that we had. Eric wanted to know if we could start over, a clean slate. At the time, I really did think that he had changed, and that his break up with Marie had humbled him. So I told him that I would love a fresh start, that I had missed being friends with him and hanging out like we used to. I think he knew then that he had me right where he wanted me.

It was only a few hours later that our conversation turned sexual, just like it always did, and of course it was Eric who started it.

Surprise surprise. Though this time he was more subtle about it by turning it back to the topic of intimacy that I had brought up earlier. Eric explained that he too craved that connection he used to have with Marie when they were intimate together. I agreed with him and told him it had been months since I had experienced that with someone. And that was all the encouragement he needed. He began to ask how long it had been since I had been intimate with someone, if I had hooked up with anyone. I told him that after the one guy had screwed me over, I had a fling with someone else for a short time, but that was it. While I wasn’t opposed to a casual hook-up, it wasn’t something I made a habit of doing, that I’d rather be in a relationship. I told him I would only hook-up with people I knew, friends; someone I trusted.  That’s when Eric asked if I would ever consider hooking up with him. At first, I thought he was joking and I kind of laughed it off. But then, he told me he was serious. He argued his case, saying that we had known each other for some time, that we both obviously needed a release, and that I had to know that he had had feelings for me for some time. I mulled it over for a while. A part of me told me it was a bad idea; that he had just gotten out of a relationship with Marie. I felt like I’d be betraying her by hooking-up with her ex. Not to mention all the times he made me uncomfortable with his overtly-sexual advances in the past. But the more I thought about it, the more my loneliness and desire for a connection had won over my reason. I had been alone for so long, and Eric was right: I had known him a quite a while and there was definitely chemistry between us. So against my better judgement, I said yes, and he asked me if I was free that night. I told him I would be on duty in the building, but rounds were always hours apart, and I would have a lot of downtime in between. He said he would come over at 8, after his play rehearsal.That night as I waited for him to come over, I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t focus on the butterflies in my stomach. It had been a while since I had been with anyone, and my self-esteem had taken a bit of a hit. And now, here was someone who desired me, who had pursued me, and it felt great. Around 8, he texted me that he was outside the building, so I went downstairs to let him in. While I was signing him in, Eric told me that I looked nice, even though I was just in a t-shirt and yogas, and that he liked how my hair was braided. It had made me blush. We made our way up to my room, and when the door closed behind us, I suddenly felt very nervous. I think Eric could tell I was having doubts about this, and I remember him holding out his arms and smiling that charming smile of his, asking to start with just a hug. We hugged for awhile, and it did make me feel a little better, even though his cologne was too strong and it made me want to gag. Eventually, he leaned down to kiss me, and in the beginning it was nice.  But before long, Eric started to kiss me harder and it felt like he was trying to suck my entire mouth into his. Before I knew it, my top was off, and he was pushing me in the direction of my bed. I just remember everything happening so fast, like I couldn’t catch up with what he was doing. It was like I blinked, and he had me down to just my underwear. And he wasn’t being gentle anymore either. I remember how he grabbed and squeezed my breasts, the hickies he left all over my torso, the way he bit my nipples… I tried grabbing his arms, tried to silently signal that I wanted him back up so I could kiss him. I think I was hoping maybe then, I could coax him to just slow down, to not be so rough.But the next thing I knew, I had been flipped over onto my stomach, and my underwear were almost torn from my body. I tried to get up, but then, his hand clamped down onto the back of my neck and forced my torso back onto the bed. I remember that being when I gave up. I’d always had a thing about my neck being touched during sex because I considered it too threatening. Eric knew this; I had told him in the past. He had obviously remembered. After that, I think I shut down a little. I still only remember bits and pieces of what happened after.Him holding me down as he aggressively went down on me. Being flipped over and him grasping my head as he forced himself in my mouth. The feeling of not being able to breathe. The suffocating smell of his cologne when he climbed on top of me. He went slow at first when he pushed inside of me. I think I must have sighed, probably out of relief, and he took that as encouragement because once he was inside, he locked his arms around me and pounded into me. I remember how badly it hurt, how I could feel myself tearing inside. I lashed out at the closest thing, which was his shoulder, and bit down until I tasted blood.

It didn’t even faze him.

Eric didn’t last long after that and before I knew it, he was pulling out of me. He got up off the bed and moved over to the sink next to the bed; to throw away the condom. I didn’t move for the longest time, even after he crawled back into my bed and laid down. I remember his feet next to my head as he did, the satisfied groan that left his mouth. It took forever before I felt like I could move my body again, and when I walked, I felt the obvious burning inside me. I grabbed my robe and murmured something about going to the bathroom. He didn’t even reply. I don’t remember the walk to or from the bathrooms down the hall from my room, or if anyone saw me. Later I hoped that they didn’t. I didn’t want my residents to see me like that. I don’t know why I let him stay, why I cuddled with him after and acted like everything was fine. I think I was just trying to convince myself that everything was fine. That his smell didn’t make me want to throw up; that his touch didn’t make my skin crawl. Eventually, it was about time for me to go on rounds, and Eric decided he should go. I remember him saying something along the lines of “I had a good time and that we should do this again soon.” I just smiled and continued to lie in bed. When he left, I remember how numb I felt, how my mind had gone blank and I just stared at the wall. It was like my brain couldn’t process what I had been through. If my duty partner hadn’t texted me to remind me about rounds, I think I would have stared at that wall all night. The next day, I woke up sore and bruised. When I saw myself in the mirror, I thought about how it looked like I had been in a boxing match. There were bruises and hickeys all over my body. I could see where his fingers had grabbed me too hard on my arms, legs, and breasts. Feeling disgusted, I grabbed my things and headed for the shower. I took the hottest shower I could physically tolerate and scrubbed my skin until it was red and burning. Anything to get the feel of him off. When I got back to my room, I crawled into bed with my computer, emailing my mid-morning professor that I wouldn’t be in class that day. I had a medical excuse because of my mono, so she just sent me the day’s coursework and wishes to a speedy recovery. Small blessings I guess.Eric texted not long after that. He went on about how he’d had fun the night before but he had thought it over and decided it was too soon for him to be involved with anyone, even if it was just casual. He hoped I would understand and not be too upset with him. I told him not to worry about it and turned my phone off. Crawling under the covers, I remember lying there again and staring at the wall like the night before. I didn’t even notice I was crying until the pillow got soaked. A part of me was relieved, but the other was just so incredibly angry. He had done it again. Used me until he got what he wanted from me. That’s what I chose to focus on, because the truth was just so much more painful. And it was that pain that I would try to avoid for months after.        -Khaleesi