Alex’s Story: Do You Know What You Did?

Alex’s Story: Do You Know What You Did?

Do you remember the first time we met? It was the summer before my freshman year. I was struggling to fit in, especially because it was obvious that I didn’t. You were one of the first people I met at school, you and your friends. You all were so nice to me, helping me whenever I needed it. You showed me what high school was really like. It wasn’t just about education; it was about becoming social. But it was so much more than that.

You noticed that I was starting to have issues in school. I’d get caught up in situations, and I was never really able to get myself out of them. You always came to my aid, but I’d still cry about being so helpless. I couldn’t understand why I was always the target of sexual jokes, and sometimes even sexual conquests. The seniors always talked about what they wanted to do to me, sometimes making bets about who could go the furthest with me. But you still defended me. At least, I thought you did.

Do you remember that night as well as I do? I was staying after school, waiting to go home. You were there for practice, talking to your friends about how you were ready to graduate. There were so many people still walking around because of the basketball game going on that night. Before I got ready to leave, I asked my brother if we could stay for the game. I knew he’d never said yes before, but I figured this time would hopefully be different. He finally agreed, only because it was the last game of the semester and some of his other friends would be there. I really wanted to stay, not for the game, but for you. I was young, it was natural for me to crush on a senior. You knew that, and you took advantage of it.

Do you remember how the game went? Our team did pretty good. The gym was packed, everybody was cheering, and it was a great way to end the semester. Once the game was over, the team went back to the locker room and everybody else went ahead and started to leave the building. There were so many people around, and my brother was outside talking to a group of his friends. I had never been comfortable in crowds, and you knew that. I ended up going up the side stairs towards the baseball fields to get away from everybody. I walked around the back of the building where I saw one of my other friends by the back door. I stood around talking to her for a while, and we made our way to the soccer field. We talked until her cousin came outside, ready to go. He was with you and a few others, but I didn’t think anything of what was going on. I trusted those faces. I’d been in classes with those faces, seen them in the hallway, even sat in on banquets with those faces. I didn’t have a reason not to trust familiar faces You came to sit with me on the field. We all talked for a while until the others got up and went somewhere. Then, it was just us.

Do you remember what happened next? Maybe you do, but let me tell you exactly what I remember. I remember you sitting a bit closer to me. I remember you putting your hand on my leg, making me obviously uncomfortable. I moved away from you, but that didn’t matter to you. You kissed me, for reasons that I still don’t understand. The more I tried to get away from you, the more you came towards me. You ended up on top of me, with nowhere for me to move. You covered my mouth as I tried to scream out for help, and you told me it would be over soon. I know you remember what happened next. As you took my virginity and changed my life forever, your friends stood by and watched. They took pictures. They saw things that nobody was ever supposed to see. They heard my crying and didn’t stop you. Eventually they’d had enough. They didn’t want to just sit around and let you have all the fun. You let them join in, but you still wanted to have the most fun. You heard me say things like “don’t” and “stop”, but you took that to mean “don’t stop”. When you finished, you got up and told me not to think too much about it, because “I wasn’t that special”. As you and your friends left, I stayed there. I couldn’t move, and it was hard to breathe. All I could do was lay in the grass and cry. I was scared to go back in public, I could still feel the blood running down my legs. I felt dizzy, but I managed to make my way to a bathroom in the school to try to clean myself up. I saw myself in the mirror, covered in dirt, sweat, and tears. I brushed as much as I could off, and went back outside towards the front of the school. I found my brother’s friend talking to one of the school’s dancers. He saw the distressed look on my face, and he noticed how red my eyes were. He asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t find the words to describe what had just happened to me. She told him not to worry about my crying, because I always cried about something, so they both left it alone. When it was time for me to go home, my brother asked if I was okay. His friend spoke up and told him what the other girl said, not to worry about it because I always cried. Even after that, I was still never able to tell him what happened.

That night didn’t end there. For the rest of the year, until you all graduated, you got to do whatever you wanted to do to me because you knew I could never speak up. Even after you graduated, it didn’t stop. I’d gotten addicted to the feeling of the abuse. I went through sophomore and junior year having sex with, getting slapped by, getting choked by, and being assaulted by anybody that wanted sex. I thought maybe if I took some time away from everything, I’d get better. So I’d move in with my sister, hoping that everything would be better.

But it only got worse. When I moved in with my sister, I found out that I’d moved in next to you. Even better, I found out that every boy that was on that field with me that night, still visited your house very frequently. I thought getting into church would save my soul, until the day I went and ended up sitting right next to you. By that time, I was right back in the position I was in after you left. I was always on my knees for the guys that knew exactly what to say. Sometimes it was just one guy. Then when he was done with me, he’d introduce me to one of his friends. Then I started taking care of two and three guys at a time. In my head, it was just you and your group of friends on the field. My body would shut down because I was so uncomfortable, but I wanted to feel wanted again.

Recently, I’ve thought of some things that I’ve wanted to say to you. Did you not see how hurt and confused I was? Why would you do what you did to me? Why would you let them do what they did to me? Do you know I’ve never forgiven myself? I heard the tapes. Do you know how hard it was for me to hear you tell a detective, after years of trying to escape your past, that you did it because you “wanted me to show affection”? Do you know I got up and walked out after I heard that? Just because I didn’t show affection, you decided to rape me? You let your friends do it too, there’s no excuse for that. You looked at me like I was just a cheap piece of ass. It didn’t hurt me hearing that you got picked up by the police from your own combine, in front of the rest of your team. It didn’t hurt me at all. What hurt me was hearing how successful you’d become, yet I still struggle with suicidal thoughts on a daily basis. Your own brother didn’t know about what happened until you told him, only when he watched you be put in handcuffs. I’m hurting inside, not only because I have to constantly think about these memories, but because your own mother said she wasn’t surprised that you were capable of something like this. Does that not disgust you? Your mother said she’s not surprised that you’re capable of rape. You’ve hurt so many people because you wanted to be in control of a child. You still asked the detectives how I was doing and you’d hoped I’d gotten better. You even asked them if I ever got over it. Were you trying to hurt me again? Or do you not see the damage you’ve already caused?




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