It is my hope that, by sharing my story, it will encourage other trauma survivors to share their own stories. This post might trigger you. It will be helpful for you to share your feelings with someone.
By the time I had arrived at college down South, I was a chronic binge drinker – alcohol had become my numbing agent. During my first week on campus, a dorm mate invited me to a frat party. There I was introduced to Jack Daniels and an alcohol concoction called Lion’s Brew. I soon became inebriated.
I connected with one of the fraternity brothers, who told me he was a musician and songwriter. He had written a song and wanted to play it for me up in his room. I was flattered. I felt special. I followed him to his room. He sat me down on one of the twin beds, then took a seat on the other one across from me. He played his guitar and sang his song for me, which I thought was beautiful. I was impressed with how good it was.
He set the guitar on the bed, then slid next to me. He kissed me. I kissed him back. We made out for a few minutes, then his hands drifted to my breasts and between my legs. I kept pushing his hands away, saying STOP! and DON’T! over and over. But he pushed me down onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I was too drunk to fight him off.
I begged him to stop, but he was determined to see it through. His roommate came in while I was being raped. He sat on the bed and watched. When the musician was done with me, I got up to leave. His roommate forced me back down, climbed on top of me, and raped me.
When he was through, the two of them laughed as they left me crying on the bed. I made my way across campus to my dorm room.
I grabbed a bath towel and soap, and shuffled to the showers. I got undressed and turned on the water as hot as I could stand it. Steamed filled the room as I tried to wash away their violation, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not get myself to feel clean. I sat down on the shower floor, knees to my chest, and sobbed. I stayed that way until the water turned cold.
I returned to my room and climbed into bed. The next morning, I told the Dean what had happened. He asked me if there were any witnesses. I told him No. He said, “Then it’s your word against theirs. I’m not going to ruin two young men’s reputations on something you can’t prove.” He further stated that, should I pursue the matter, he would be forced to pull my full, four-year scholarship. I wanted to stay in school, so I kept quiet.
I don’t know how I did it, but I was able to shove the ordeal aside and participate – and enjoy – classes, performances (I was a theater major), and campus life for the two years that I stayed at that university. But my drinking really took off during that time. I drank heavier and more frequently than I ever had before.