Shannon’s Story: He Thought I Loved Him

Shannon’s Story: He Thought I Loved Him

I met him in college. I always liked to try to be a friend for everyone, especially to people who may not have a lot of friends because I believe everyone needs someone. This was the case with him. He seemed like a loner, so I set out to befriend him. It turned out we had a lot in common with TV shows we watched and we bonded for a few months over that, always hanging out in public like our dorm’s common room to watch tv together and with some mutual friends.
One night these girls had been using the common room to watch a movie, so he invited me over to his room to watch a show on Netflix instead. I gladly went with him because I considered him a very good and trustworthy friend. He’d done nothing beforehand to indicate otherwise.
We sat on his bed and proceeded to watch this show on his laptop. After a few episodes I noticed he had inched significantly closer. Eventually he grabbed my face and kissed me. I kissed him back at first, but he got too rough and I pulled away. By that time he was on top of me. I told him that he was hurting me and he told me that that was the best part. He shoved his hand down my pants and I cried out from the pain and told him to stop, that it hurt and I didnt want to. He told me to just relax, that it would feel better eventually. It didn’t. It hurt so bad I sobbed and tried to push him off, but he was too heavy.
Eventually I felt numb. My whole body felt like it just locked up and froze, and all I could do was lay there and cry. He took my clothes off and flipped me onto my stomach. I wanted to scream for help, but I couldn’t get anything out. All I could do was cry. He laid down on top of me and entered me from behind. I could feel him, and the numbness took over from there moreso. It didn’t hurt and it didn’t feel good. It just felt. I could feel him there, but there was nothing I could do about it. I just cried and stared at the wall until he shoved my face down into the bed. He pulled out and finished on my back. I can remember him taking a towel and cleaning me up. I didn’t move. He eventually laid down beside me and spooned me and kissed the back of my head. His roommate walked in then and quickly left so we could get dressed. He walked me back to my dorm after that and kissed me goodnight. For a week after that he told everyone we were dating. He called me baby and kept trying to hang out. I had no desire to be around him.
Eventually I “broke up” with him even though I never agreed to date him. He punched a wall when I did and bloodied up his hand and then he called me to tell me he needed help fixing it. I asked my roommate to go with me so I wouldn’t be alone with him. I bandaged his hand and told him to never contact me again.
I didn’t realized he had raped me until 6 months later. I was in denial and refused to believe that that’s what happened to me. I always believed that if I were ever assaulted I would fight back harder. I would kick and scream. I did none of that. I felt like I just laid there and let it happen. It’s taken a lot of time to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t my fault. I haven’t told anyone besides my sister and my roommate/best friend.



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