Sydnie LaSalata’s Story: He Was My Best Friend

Sydnie LaSalata’s Story: He Was My Best Friend

the kid who at the time would be my best friend, later my boyfriend, and soon after my abuser. Freshman year, After a breakup with his first girlfriend I found myself talking to him alot more than i had in the last 8 years of knowing him. That summer before we dated it was perfect and he said all the right things and gave me all the right feelings and reasons to trust.

I was adventurous. At least with my words. Said I’d do things, sent pictures and texts I shouldn’t have at that age, then my sophmore year of highschool. He thought I was all too risky, and i guess putting out too much. Although I didn’t see it that way. It was that spring that it all really happened. Before there were many forced hand jobs and blow jobs. But that spring is when it happened.

I remember it all to vividly, it was a cold spring day just sunny enough to have an excuse to go on one of our famous walks, the only way he could truely get me alone. I went along not knowing how bad it would be this time. We got down to the river and he said the perfect things and kissed me. Which turned into me on the ground him hovering over me. He had removed my top. And was working on pulling his own pants down. I was frozen and confused it was all happening so fast, i was barely 16. He was still 15. He pushed my back down into the sand, yanked my legs open and started pulling my pants dowe too. I shook my head and told him no, but my meak words didn’t stop him. He proceeded pushing himself unto me. I was trying to not resist and to go along becayse I knew it would be worse if i did resist. It hurt worse that I could ever remember and pain being. He got bored of me just laying there and insisted I had a turn on top, reluctantly and remorsefully I did as he asked. But i couldnt do it, I quickly jumped up and pulled my pants up and grabbed my top, headed to the water to try to get the mud stains out of my clothes.

As I was bent over washing the sand from pants he came up behind me, pants still undone and smacked me as hard as he could. He then pushed my knees to the ground and stood in front of my face, the worst force on the back of my head. After he was finished with me, he pulled up his pants and headed back to his house. I followed behind.

When we got to the door his mother asked what had happened to me and why I was all muddy. Before I could utter a word he told her I had fallen during our walk. If only she would have known the truth. It happened one more time just before summer, during a cookout in his back yard. But soon after that I broke up with him. And started a new journey of feeling worthless and full of blame and guilt.

I didnt tell a soul until just before graduation. My family still doesn’t know what happened that spring afternoon, in the sand by the river on our walk.



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