Suffer

How could you do that to me? 

I was hurt and suffering, and I know you had your problems but I didn’t deserve any of that. 

I came with you with my heart on the line, trusting that you would be there to listen to me. I cried while you hugged me and told me things would be alright. I agreed to go out, believing that the distraction would do me good, and I needed the company of others to distract myself. 

I was actually having fun, I was actually distracted from the situation I was in. You and I were having fun, and we were dancing together and you were flirting heavily with me, but I just laughed, because you were drunk and the old adage that you’d fuck anything in a skirt did hold true. 

But it was me, and I didn’t think we even thought of each other on that level. 

Until that moment, when you pulled me aside and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. 

I could smell the alcohol on your breath, and I lay still and smiled, and told you that you were drunk and that you were just being silly. 

You and I had just gotten out of relationships, and I was twisted and your story was equally twisted, and the last thing we needed to complicate things was yet another relationship. 

Let’s just have fun, I said. 

“And I am”, you whispered against my neck, as your hand roved up to my breast, and your body pinned mine against the wall. 

How could you do that? 

I hated you that night, hated you for using your strength against mine. 

I never thought you would do that to a friend. 

I never thought you would ignore my protests, the multiple no’s I said. Even in your drunken haze, I never thought you would force your fingers into me, never thought you would subdue me with your body, never thought you would ignore the fact that I was trying to push you away. 

“You know you want it,” you slurred, ignoring my tears. 

You stopped short of fucking me down that hallway, and asked what I was crying about, asked what was so bad about the two of us having sex. 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

That was rape, my friend. 

I feel defiled, and unclean, as if someone had forced me to do something that my mind was unable to accept. Despite your apologies, it is much too late. You stepped past that barrier, and you’ve broken my trust. I will never be able to look at you the same way again. 

I fled to Scott and cried. It has all been too much to bear.