It was during the summer of this past year. My friend invited me to a party. Parties, naturally, have never been my thing. I hate big groups of people. In my mind, at least one person in a crowd could be evil .They could be a murderer or a rapist. I have trust issues. I trusted my step brother almost 7 years ago now and just look where that got me.
I don't remember much of the party. I do know now, though, that I really can't handle my liquor. I shouldn't drink it. I knew that going into it but I was stupid and reckless. I was really depressed at the time and I just wanted to relax and forget for just one night. I wanted just one night of peace. One night to say that it wasn't on my mind. To say that I wasn't thinking of my past and what has happened to me. I just wanted one day of that awful week to be happy. That was a huge mistake. Everytime I try to be happy-- something bad always happens. Honestly, I should have fucking known something would happen.
When I woke up in the morning, I was confused. I honestly didn't remember how I got home. I smelt like vomit and had McDonalds lying next to me in my bed. I remember bits and pieces throughout the night. I remember sitting on a couch and waiting for my friend. I remember riding in a car and not knowing where it was going. I remember people asking me if I was okay-- I think I was crying. I remember every time I said yes and asked them to leave me alone. And I remember falling.
I was in a dark room in the house. It was a pretty big house and my drunk self couldn't really navigate it. I was looking for my friend, who I think, had disappeared with her boyfriend at some point during the night. I should have known that they would have been doing scandalous, consensual things. But I'm an idiot and went looking around anyway. Partly because my friend had promised not to leave me alone for too long, because she knows I have anxiety issues, so I just got a little too worried.
I ran into someone. I was suddenly in a room with someone I didn't know. I remember little bits of trying to fight back or yell. Something like that. Then...i fell. Next thing I remember I'm in a car with my friends and I think we're going to eat. Not remembering makes me feel like an idiot. What if nothing really happened and I'm just being silly. I did wake up the next day with a hickey and bruises but that could have been normal drunken promiscuity and falling around. I don't know.
It's probably a good thing I don't know everything that happened. But for the past (almost) year since it happened, I've been a reck. More anxious. More depressed. More nightmares. I already had these issues because of what happened to me when I was younger and my biggest fear has always been having it happen again.
I guess, in a small way, I should be grateful I got lucky and didn't remember all of it. Sometimes, I dream about and I can't tell if they're just stupid dreams or memories of some sort. It's kind of driving me insane. I've kept all of this to myself. Since it's so recent I don't want someone to tell me to go to the police or pressure me into something of that sort. What am I supposed to tell them, anyway? I don't have a name or even a description. I don't know the address of where the party was. I don't know everyone I was with. I don't know who I spoke to throughout the whole night. I don't know what room I was in. The report would just be a mess. Nobody would believe me. Sometimes I don't even believe myself.
I feel like a fucking moron.