On being violated

I was sexually assaulted last night and I want to recollect the moments while it is still fresh in my brain.

The before:

I met Kevin at my apartment complex in the middle of August; he had stopped to see a friend and approached me in the parking lot. He was extrememly respectful; I have never given my number to a man in a parking lot before then (and I never ever will again).

We texted back and forth for a week or so. He was polite and fun and kinda silly. He was brand new to town and worked as a fork lift driver. That’s respectable, I thought.

He asked to take me out, but I worked late on the evening of our plans so I asked to bail on him. He was disappointed so I offered to let him come over to have a drink and watch a movie with me. One thing led to another and we slept together.

We were laying in bed afterwards, discussing life and our pasts when he mentions that he just got out of prison a few months ago. O_0

 Well that was unexpected, but not terrifying yet…

“How long ago did you get out?” How long were you away? What was it for?”

“Got out four months ago… Was in for eight years for armed robbery.” (red flag)

Queue mouthdrop and realization that I may not be the best judge of character. Then he casually mentions that he needs to meet a friend at a gas station for something. (red flag)

I said “it’s 2:30 A.M?”

He said “I will wear your housecoat & leave my pants to prove a point; it will be less than 30 minutes.”

 “I am locking the door at 3 AM because this is already sketchy.”

He said “bet” and left.

At 3:05, he didn’t answer his phone. I locked my house and hung his shorts on the outside of my doorknob. I woke up to a couple missed calls a a text that said.  “That is vile! You are a low-down evil woman…silly as fuck.” (red flag)  

I said “Keep the housecoat; I don’t have time for games like this.”

He said, “Did I leave my shirt there?”

I looked around and sure enough… “yes, let me know when you are in the area and I’ll leave it out for you.”

The encounter:

That was the last week in August. I hadn’t spoken to this man in over 20 days. Then last night, around 7:30 PM he called my phone. I hit ignore. He called again. I hit ignore. He called again. I let it ring to voicemail. He called again.

I answered huffy, “Hello!? Can I help you? It this an emergency?”

He said “I am at your apartments seeing my boy and I wanted to get that shirt.”

I said “I’ll sit it outside for you.”

He said “There better not be any other men in your house.”

I said, “First of all that is none of your concern and second of all…” a knock on my door.

I hung up. And grouchy as fuck I grabbbed the man’s shirt and opened my door. I shoved it out through the door frame and out of my house into his hands. I told him to have a great night and I tried to close my front door.

He stuck his hand in the way of the door and told me to chill out. I protested and told him that I didn’t want company.

He kept reaching in and grabbing my waist, hips, and thighs. With one hand trying to shut my door and the other slapping his hands away, I told him that I had Spanish homework; I didn’t want company. Again, I tried to close the door.

He stepped inward and pushed it open. I put my hands on his chest pushing backwards and asked him to leave.

“I didn’t invite you here. I didn’t invite you inside. You showed up unexpectedly. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to fight with you. I just want you to leave.”

He grabbed me by the waist and stepped towards me. I forcefully tried to shove him off of me and he lunged forward and playfully bit my right titty. He was smiling and giggling and I was not. He tried to kiss me. I put both hands on his face and told him to stop. He leaned back and tried to tickle me.

“This isn’t funny and I don’t like it; please leave.”

“Give me a kiss and I’ll leave. Come on, babe. Why you being like this?”

 I shoved at his hands still clamped onto the waist of my overalls. I stomped my feet and threw my hands in a windmill motion to try and relase his grip. But he had me. I am a tough bitch, but I could not over-power him. He had me with little effort. He reached down and put his hand inside of my shorts leg and grazed my vulva. I dramatically snapped my knees together and told him to stop.

 He said “you aren’t wearing panties; just let me slide it in…”

My panic mode went into overdrive. I wanted to cry and scream and gouge his eyes out.  


He stepped back, still holding me by the waist, with his eyebvrows raised.

 “Oh you meant it that time?”

“I FUCKING MEANT IT THE WHOLE TIME. LEAVE ME ALONE. STOP TOUCHING ME. PLEASE GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.” I was enraged. I pushed and shoved; he gave way and started to step backwards.

“Not until you give me a kiss.”

“I am not fucking kissing you. I want you to leave.”

“Come on baby, stop being so dramatic. I’m going to come pick you up tomorrow and take you for a date like we were originally supposed to..”

“Please leave and do not ever come back to my house.”

“You so silly, baby. Give me a kiss and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I am not kissing you and no you will not.”

We were standing in the doorway again. I still had my hand on his chest pushing backwards. And the other hand was trying to shut the door. He had one hand on the door and with the other, he roughly grabbed me by the face, and then gently kissed my persed, defiant lips.

He let go of me and then door. He stepped backwards out onto my porch, so I slammed the door and deadbolted it.

Then sobbed into a heap on the livingroom floor.

The Aftermath


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Being born and raised in the south should have made me more inbred and less tolerant, but something went wrong in the grand scheme of these damned rebels. I am; brutally honest, a bad driver with a record to prove it, a connoisseur of stand-up comedy, the eldest child, an aware procrastinator, semi-sweet, the result of my mother losing her virginity, easily excitable, a lover of music, a pretty shit liar, late to any event no matter what, myself without apology.

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