One year later.

It's been a year since Greg took my scared silence for sexual consent.
A year since a lay perfectly still and tried to concentrate on anything else but the feeling of his skinny hard dick penetrating me and the screaming in my head.
A year since he ignored the tears in my eyes when he drove me home that night.
A year since I felt numb for a week.
A year since I had that 3o minute shower and sobbed silently so my roommates wouldn't hear me.

I don't tell many people this story because the first time I did, a girl I hardly knew told me it was my fault. What did I expect? I was naked in his bed. If I didn't put out I was just being a cruel tease.

Part of me agrees....in fact, most of the time I believe it was my fault. Then I remember the discussion I had with him about wanting to wait to have sex. I remember him forcing me down for the first time and pushing him off of me and being scared and wishing I had my own car to drive home. I remember saying no numerous times that night, but never once saying yes. I remember him whispering how tight I was in my ear and telling me how we fit perfectly together. Creep. I remember thinking that he'll realise that I don't want to do this and that it will stop. I remember telling myself to just wait until it was over. I had done this before....just go through the motions, I'll be okay.

But I'm not okay.

He probably doesn't even remember my name. I'm the slut he fucked on the the second date. the slut who said no, but wanted it really bad. I'm the slut who avoided his phone calls for the next month or was always "too busy" to fuck again.