This is My Story About How My Best Friend Sexually Assaulted Me.

Today as I'm writing this, it is July 13th, 2019.

Two years ago today, I was raped. In my own home, in my room, in my bed, by my best friend. He was always like a big brother to me, which is why I was comfortable being alone with him. I wasn't that comfortable with any other male. He knew about my childhood: that I was raped and molested multiple times from ages 3-14. He was loved by all, and he was on the worship team. A golden boy, everyone's favorite. I trusted him more than anyone. I haven't trusted anyone else as much as I trusted him before or since. I don't think I ever will. Because if someone I trusted so much can change in one night and do this, what's to say no one else will? 

Two days before he raped me, my best female friend moved away, and I had taken her to the airport. I was so vulnerable. So we decided to hang out that night, as we usually did. Just hanging out—innocent, safe—or so I thought. It was the same as any other night until it wasn't. Until he got on top of me, belittled me, and decided to ignore my “no”s. He tried to justify what he was doing out loud by telling me that he was trying to fix me so I could have a husband one day. That it wasn't normal for a girl my age not to want this. That he was helping me. I watched my best friend turn into a monster as he raped me. 

That night was the worst night of my life. It differed from my traumas before because I trusted him so much. He knew my traumas, and I thought he would never hurt me. Don't get me wrong, they all haunt me. But this one haunts me the most. This one I have nightmares of most nights. This one makes me feel unsafe in any religious setting and makes me not trust anyone fully. This one I have flashbacks of most. 

A week after he raped me, I told our youth leader he assaulted me. She said she was sorry and that she wished she could help. She later said she would pray to take my fear of him away so I could come to synagogue. She told me I should forgive him and be friends again. He stayed on the worship team. He stayed the golden boy. And I was an outsider now. He told his friends we fooled around and that I wanted it. What he left out was my screams, my trying to push him off, and my begging for him to stop. I had never felt more alone. 

Eventually, I reported it to the police. After that, I lost my friends. They were so angry I would "hurt him like this." Well, what about me? What about the other girls he's done this to or will do this to? Not much came from the case, but I did learn who my friends are. He doesn't go to synagogue anymore, but he is still talked about and missed and loved by them. The religious community used to be my safe haven. Now, it is a scary, unsafe, and dangerous place to me. It's terrifying to be anywhere religious now. There is where I found my best friend, who later raped me, who then got away with it— still the golden boy. There I was called a whore, brushed under the rug, and dismissed. 

Today I tried to pretend it wasn't the anniversary. I tried to pretend it was another day. I tried to convince myself I was fine. That died quick. I didn't sleep. I had nightmares and flashbacks. Today I feel like I'm surrounded by a dark cloud that is him. I know tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is not the 13th. But for now, I am very not okay. And that is okay. That is valid after what happened to me, no matter what anyone else says.