T. L.’s Story: the making of a slut

T. L.’s Story: the making of a slut

It was my junior year of high school.
In a small town, in the middle of “The Bible Belt.”
There’s so much snow outside. My best friend, [V], and I pick up our friend [Z] and drive to our friend, [B]’s house.
[B] has a girl friend, but he also has a reputation. But that doesn’t matter. We’re just here to play in the snow and have fun. He lives on a hill that is perfect for sledding.
We spend hours there and then [V]’s mom picks her up. [Z] plans to stay with [B] for the rest of the day. I should probably leave. But I don’t. We hang out for quite a while longer, [B] randomly tries to hold my hand or put his hand on my knee under the blanket I’m using on the couch. I keep moving my hand away or pushing his away. We’re all pretty tired from playing in the snow and decide to lie down for a nap/rest. The next half an hour is a bit of blur. I don’t remember details… maybe I forced myself to forget.
You see I came over to play in the snow with my friends, but I don’t think that [B] realizes that’s all I wanted to do… or he doesn’t care… he doesn’t seem to care that I clearly don’t want him to touch me. I was trapped.. nervous, uncomfortable… I didn’t want to be mean.. so I didn’t force him to stop.. I didn’t want to make him mad.
After the “nap,” the boys left the basement and went upstairs. Should I leave? Probably… I don’t know what I’m doing.
Then one of my friends, [A], comes down the stairs. She says she saw my car and wanted to see what I was up to.
You know that girlfriend that [B] has? Her name is [M] and she, and her sister, [D], are good friends with [A] too. [A] asked if anything had happened between me and [B]. I told her yes, that we’d had sex. She was frustrated with me and left.
Naturally, [A] tells [M] and her sister, and naturally, the whole school seems to know that I’d slept with [M]’s boyfriend. No one seems to care that [B] has sex with me. No one seems to care how I feel about it. Everyone has something to call me. My fate, my reputation is sealed. I don’t think that I ever overcame that. Not truly.

Flash forward a few weeks: it’s homecoming. I know some places make a huge deal out of homecoming, go all out and dress up like it’s prom. Not our school. We have an assembly, crown a king and queen, play some football, and have a boring school dance, with no special theme, and no special dress code.
My friend, [G], go to the dance. I spot [M]. I’m one of those people that tragically never wants anyone to be mad at her. I go to [M] and apologize. She’s surprisingly forgiving, like instantly. She hangs out with us during the entire dance.
Towards the end of the dance, my friend,[A], and my best friend, [V] show up. Before long we all walk into the parking lot to leave, and someone has smeared fast food all over my car. I’d never experienced that level of bullying before. I bawled. My friends help me clean it off.

These events still affect me. And no one knows the truth. Not a single person. Not even my best friend, who was like a sister to me. And when I look back on the homecoming dance… I get this gut feeling that [A] and [V] did that to my car, and that [M] “forgave me” and hung out with me to keep me distracted and keep me from leaving while that happened. I don’t know that that is the truth… but I feel it in my gut.

I’ve never told [A] the truth, but I’ve imagined telling her now. And when I imagine it, in my head, I still find myself, blaming myself. I should have left when [V] did. I should have left when we were on the couch… I shouldn’t have gone over in the first place… I don’t know if I’ll ever tell anyone… I just feel like they’ll think I’m playing the victim… I’m so dramatic… I’m trying to put the blame on him and clear myself of any of it. He probably doesn’t even remember why they broke up. Or sledding… any of it. But I’ll never forget it and I’ll never tell any about it.

Author

WYR

WYR

When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.

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