I took the drink from you and smiled. I laughed at your jokes that I found far from funny. The shots of vodka you mixed in my drink were coursing through my body faster than the words were falling out of your mouth. But I don't remember how fast that truly was because of what you mixed in, to make me have "more fun". But maybe that was my fault, I knew better than to drink what you gave me. I wasn't innocent to the things people claimed you did to girls. I just was stupid enough to not believe them. I should've left that party. Everybody warned me because everybody could see the hunger in your eyes that craved claiming my body on your count. It's my fault that I didn't verbally say no. I didn't stop you did I? I was clearly asking for it by the way I was playing with my hair and smiling at you. I knew better, but still, I allowed you to lure me into your trap of feel-good attention that was full of compliments. I knew it was false hope, but you were right about that too, I was too drunk to know what I was thinking. You seemed to be right about a lot of things that had happened that cold night in the middle of summer. I was asking for you to strip me down, asking for you to take everything from me, asking for you to add me to your body count. You were right. I really am nothing but a whore.
This is not right.
You. are. not. right.
I did try to stop you, but you knew a drunk girl, you could overpower her. You are not stronger than me, in fact, you are far, far weaker than me. You are such a coward that the only way you get girls in bed is by filling them with a sweet liquor that clouds their heads. You can't even face them sober, but you prey on them when they barely know their own names. You are weak. I am strong. What you did to me is not right and it never will be. I spent too long believing it truly was my fault that I was raped. But it's not, it never will be. My blood alcohol content and my clothes and the way I smile is not an invitation to drag me to bed and do things to me while I slip in and out of consciousness. I will never blame myself for the things you did to me this summer and the guilt you caused me. You, you knew it was wrong because when I pass you in the hallway or at games, you can't even look me in the eyes. You crawl away from me hiding behind your friends. Do they know what you did? Do they know about all the girls before me? Do they know those scratch marks aren't from some girl who loves it rough, but instead a girl with tears streaming down her face begging you to stop and leave her alone. Do they know you're a monster?
You, you will never be stronger than me. I didn't ask for this and this is not my fault. You, are the monster, not me. What you did was unforgivable, and I hate for everything you took from me and everything I had to pick back up and tape it back together.
Author Notes: Consent in Colorado is defined as cooperation in act or attitude pursuant to an exercise of free will and with knowledge of the nature of the act. You crossed that line.