May 21, 2018 is a day that will forever be etched into my mind. Before I get into the events of that day, however, I want to provide some background information on the events leading up to the events of that night.

I am a college student at a small, local university. Though the campus is small, there are a variety of programs that are offered, which lead me to the decision to major in both Psychology and Nursing. I have always known that I would be a nurse; it has been a lifelong dream of mine, and I have spent my entire school career devoted to this dream. Psychology, however, was an additional major that I had not planned on completing. It was through mutual friends that I met through my coursework, that I met Chase.

I have never been much of a partier. I do not drink, because I do not like the taste of alcohol, and I just don’t like the “party scene.” When I met Chase, I wasn’t automatically drawn to him, but he was nice and had a sense of humor. He asked if I wanted to go out to a local bar, but I declined. At the time, I was not 21, and as I mentioned, I don’t like to drink. He understood and asked if I’d rather just go to a movie. Appreciative of his understanding, I agreed.

We made plans for later that night, May 21, to go and see one of the movies that was playing in the theater. Normally, I drive myself to events and functions that I go to, but Chase wanted to drive. He said that he wanted to be a proper gentleman and that the drive would allow us to get to know each other better.

I gave Chase my address and he said that he would be at my house at the designated time. Due to extenuating circumstances, the movie at the theater did not work out. I think that the movie was sold out, but I am not positive on that detail. Since Chase was already at my house, he asked if instead we could just watch a movie at my house. I didn’t see a problem with this, and once again agreed.

We were watching one of those “feel good” movies, The Odd Life of Timothy Green, when Chase started doing all of the stereotypical moves you see in the movies—stretching his arms above his head and putting an arm around my shoulder. I don’t know why, but I immediately felt uncomfortable. I’m not a huge fan of people touching me anyway, but this felt different.

Warning: This part is graphic and may trigger anyone who is reading it.

It was at that time, that I decided to get up and put my 75-pound German Shepherd, Lucee, outside. She had been whining and getting anxious, so I assumed that she just wanted to go outside and run around.

The sliding glass door that opens into my backyard is connected to my living room. So, it was only about 10-feet away from the couch where we were sitting. While I was standing up, still by the sliding glass door, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, but it was too late.

Chase grabbed my arm and twisted it up and behind my back. He bent his head down and told me to just “go along” with what he was doing. Well, I had no intention of doing that.

I tried to take a step back, to hopefully off-balance Chase, and then be able to try to get my arm out of his grip. It didn’t work. He just laughed and asked if I really thought that I’d be able to get away from him. He told me that I should have expected this to happen. Afterall, I had agreed to go out with him. Maybe I should have expected it?

My bedroom is just to the left of the sliding glass door, which is where we were standing at that point. Lucee started running and jumping against the door; she was frantically trying to get in, which is an image that I will never get out of my head.

At that point, Chase started semi-pushing, semi-dragging me toward my room. I tried everything. I pushed my feet into the ground in an attempt to stop him, I tried twisting around to get myself out of his grip, and I tried kicking him. All of my attempts were futile.

At one point, Chase got angry with my attempts of getting away from him and grabbed some of my hair in his other hand and started pulling it and my head back. By this point, Chase and I were in my room and he pushed me down onto my bed. He had to let go of my hair and my arm in order to push me down, but he quickly fixed his predicament by turning me over onto my back and climbing on top of me; straddling me and holding my arms above my head.

Holding both of my wrists in one of his hands, his other hand was free to do whatever he wanted. At first, he only touched me. Pulling up my shirt and grabbing and scratching at my breasts. I kept trying to scoot away, but I couldn’t get away from him. His legs were like steel traps, pinning me underneath him. He told me that fighting him, was pointless and that if I allowed myself to, I would enjoy the experience.

This was when I gave up. I stopped fighting him and my entire body went limp. Chase said that was a good decision and continued exploring my body with his hands. He let go of my arms and started kissing me. He yelled at me and said that I could at least make an effort and at least mimic his actions. I still couldn’t move and remained still.

Once again, Chase’s temper flared, and he started biting me. I remember feeling his teeth against my skin and being unable to move. I felt the weight of his body on top of mine decrease for just a moment and the jingle of his belt as he unfastened it. The weight returned as Chase started rocking his body on top of mine. My clothes were still on at this time. Chase tried to get me to put his penis in my mouth, but I kept my mouth firmly clenched. The one thing I am proud of is that I told him I would bite him if he continued trying to force me to open my mouth.

Exasperated, Chase ceased trying to get me to open my mouth. It did not, however, deter him from his mission. He unbuttoned the pants that I was wearing and pulled them down. He ripped my underwear off of me and started laughing. He pushed himself into me and said that I could scream if I wanted to, but that no one would hear me. I remained silent. In my mind, I kept thinking that I just needed to get through the next 60 seconds. That I could do anything for 60 seconds and then I would count to 60 in my head, over and over. I counted to 60, 97 times.

He asked if he had to pull out before he came and then laughed and said that he didn’t care what my answer was, he was going to do whatever he wanted anyway. He kept chanting, “almost there” and when he finally got to where he wanted, he rolled off of me and laid beside me, heavily breathing.

Afterwards, he said that I was lucky to have been able to experience him. He also said that I was lucky he was tired because he can usually go for a lot longer. He got up, got dressed, and thanked me for the “great” time. He left me in my room and let himself out my front door.

I laid on my bed for a while, I don’t know how long, exactly. I remember whispering to myself that it could have been worse. Even though I knew that this was the worst it could be for me. I knew that I needed to move, to let Lucee inside, do anything, but my body felt like molasses.

Eventually, I was able to move, and I sat on the edge of my bed. There was dried blood that had crusted down my legs and bruises were starting to form on my forearms, legs, and abdomen. I started a shower and let Lucee inside.

I sat in my shower for over an hour, scrubbing my skin raw. I needed to get everything related to Chase off of me. I threw my clothes away and put my sheets in the washing machine. I had absolutely no intention of pressing charges. Even with the physical evidence, I knew that this was not something I would be able to relive over and over again in front of police, lawyers, and community members.

True to my resolve, I didn’t press charges against Chase. I see him occasionally on campus, but I have not talked to him since May 21. I am still working on healing from this experience. I have a couple of friends who are extremely supportive, and I go to regular therapy sessions to try to process and work through what I have been through. Some days are so much harder than other days, but I am trying to be patient with the process and not put a timeframe on my healing.