I came home at 2am that night.I was a little drunk. We had been saying our last goodbyes because finals were starting, we were heading abroad, and this was our last night together. I had walked another one of the girls home because she was drunker. I had promised to tell you when I got home. 2:16 ‘Home. Goodnight.’ I was already in bed, hair undone, pjs on. 2:19 “are you going to sleep?” 2:20 “I mean it’s 2:30 am” 2:20 “so can we hang out?” 2:21 “You can come over for a bit if you want but I’m in my pjs.” I should have known what you wanted. I should have figured it out but you had been struggling to adjust to school. You kept having talks with the upperclassmen, you had kept asking for advice. It was almost flattering. 2:22 “You’re worth it. Coming” 2:26 “here” You sat on the other side of my bed. You started asking questions. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. This is college, people have late night chats all the time. Then you started talking about how self conscious I was. How I shouldn’t think that I’m fat. How I should learn to embrace my body. You were picking out the worst things about me and throwing them in my face. Then you were kissing me. It wasn’t horrible. I wish I knew if I had kissed back, but I don’t remember. Then you were pulling at my shirt, crushing me with your muscle. You lifted yourself up, asking silently if you could take my pants off. At least to that I was able to utter a quiet no. I’ve been raped before. You knew that. I still have PTSD. You knew that. I was drunk. You knew that. All of a sudden you stopped. You squeezed beside me and held me close. The silence was broken with your suggestion that we keep going. You followed that suggestion with 45 minutes of back and forth between the two options I had. Either I’d send you home and (in your own words) you’d be very sad. Or you could stay, we could finish what we started and you’d be happy. 45 minutes. I couldn’t even say anything. I’m a people pleaser. You were my friend. I didn’t want to disappoint. I was exhausted. You kept fooling me, trying to show me how this was my choice too. I gave up. I stopped moving. I existed, barely, as a lifeless body in that bed. You clambered on top of me and put your dick in my mouth, ramming harder and harder as I tried to squeeze my eyes shut. The first glimpse of your eyes bulging, you hand coming down to my head, your chest moving rhythmically, it still haunts me. You finished and left as quickly as you had come. Two hours later I was slipping into a dreamless sleep, my skin still bright red from the boiling shower that was supposed to burn the scent of you off of me. The next day I apologized to YOU. I apologized for letting you come over, for being unhappy. I cried as I sent it. December 7th my phone chirped and under your name were the words: “Hey you. Don’t worry. I’m sorry if you’re sad about it but I had fun.”