Olivia’s Story: A Stranger I Had Been Dating For Six Months

Olivia’s Story: A Stranger I Had Been Dating For Six Months

I don’t remember the day or the hour or even the month. All I remember was it was a warmer winter night. My boyfriend, who I had been dating for about 6 months at this point, was upset we wouldn’t be able to hang out that weekend. He told me he had a full tank of gas and proposed picking me up. Sneaking out to see him was not new to me as that’s how our relationship really sparked over the summer, but this night was during the school year and getting good sleep was a privilege at this point. He convinced me and 20 minutes later I saw his red headlights drive through the street from my bedroom window. I snuck down the stairs being wary of certain steps, an act I had religiously done over the summer. I walked up to his car and to my surprise his friend was sitting in the passenger seat. I was under the impression it was just gonna be him and me spending quality time together because he missed me. We drove for a couple minutes and he pulled over and had his friend take his spot as driver while he slid into the back seat of his Ford F150 right next to me. It was beginning to become apparent that he didn’t just want to spend time with me but I convinced myself otherwise in the same way I had so many times before. I don’t remember a lot about the ride or what we talked about. All i remember was him begin very persistent, kissing my neck, rubbing my legs, pressing my head hard into his when I did allow a kiss. Once again I told myself it was just him being cute. I was wrong. I remember him reaching past the center console to turn up the music. I remember my hand was rubbing him over his pants. I continued to pull my hand away but somehow found it in the same place a few minutes later. I remember feeling bad for the driver, he knew what was happening, T knew what he wanted to happen, and I wanted nothing more than to jump out of the car. Once again I don’t remember a lot about this. I’ve read a lot of articles about sexual abuse and they all say your brain blocks out information to keep yourself safe. I believe if I would be able to remember every action and sensation that happened that night i would drive myself insane. The next thing I remember was looking at him dead in the eyes while he pulled it out of his pants and asked me the daunting question. I froze. I explained that i didn’t want J to hear, he told me the music was loud. I told him i didn’t want to get it everywhere, he told me I could spit into the old Cane’s cup sitting in his cup holder. For every excuse I had, he had a resolution. We regained eye contact and he added a long ‘please’ after asking again. His eyebrows slanted in and he looked at me as if this was a necessity, as if this was my job, my duty, something he was entitled to and something I would be a bad girlfriend for not doing. I looked at him with a blank face. My emotions started rushing. I was mad, frustrated, sad, and disgusted all the at the same time but before I could name every emotion rushing through my head, I felt his large hand on the back of my head. His strength was something I had admired about him, something that made me feel safe, protected, loved. I was feeling nothing close to those feelings right now. The only thing i could think about was how can i get this over the fastest and not draw attention to what was happening. Once again my body completely impaired my memory and I can’t remember anything about the actual act. I don’t know if he finished or if he let me stop. I sat upright again and wiped my lips while he lay seeming lifeless drowning in pleasure. I made eye contact with J again through the rear view mirror. He knew what I had just done. I could only imagine the kind of celebration they would have once i wasn’t in the car and admiration he would get from J for “getting some”. I directed J towards the street that would lead my to my house. The strong hand I had just felt on my head was now on my back. I felt his head swivel to look at me with the same eyes that had looked at me so many times before. This wasn’t the person I knew, I was not in love with this person, I was sitting next to a stranger I had known for half a year now. He asked why I was going home already and made some excuse once again I don’t remember. J stopped the truck on the street parallel to my house. I got out and he slithered out behind me. I said goodbye trying my best not to make eye contact. He grabbed my face in two hands and pressed his forehead against mine. He said he was a bad boyfriend and shouldn’t have done that. I could feel his fake repentance filter into me. I told him it was okay even though it wasn’t. After apologizing to him for something he did to me for a couple more minutes, I pulled my head away and walked into my house. I was so distraught I ended up falling down the stairs because I couldn’t control my body anymore. I laid in my bed that night and read a text that said “ I never understood what people meant when they said guys think with their dicks not their head and this is the first time I know what they are talking about”. He knew what he had done and I did too. In this instance he was smarter than me. He had been leading up to this for months. So many red flags I missed and now understand. I dated him for another month, trying to be civil through stupid arguments and continuously being hurt and apologizing for it. The months after the break up I began putting these pieces together and figuring out something that would break my heart a little bit more. I had been played, I had been used, I had been manipulated. I had been sexually assaulted.



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