I considered myself a risk-taker, but I never really would have thought of it as a risk.
I guess I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t prepared for something like this to happen. I guess what I mean is, I trusted him. Even though I’d always known it was a bad idea to do something like that, to trust someone, but I guess I was just too naive.
We were friends; we had met earlier that year, when he announced his strong liking for me. I didn’t feel the same way, and I made that clear, but like a lost puppy, he clung to me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever laid eyes on. I can’t say I liked it, to be honest it was kind of weird for someone to pay so much interest in me, but I guess I didn’t want to be mean, so I let him in, let him be my friend… let him get close to me. That was my first mistake.
He tried countless times, asking me out, saying how he couldn’t live without me, and making it known that he was extremely hopelessly depressed…. because he couldn’t have me.
That was like someone had ropes around my heart, and they would keep pulling tighter and tighter—I didn’t like it at all.
I couldn’t dismiss him as a friend, because that would …kill him. After all, I’m the best friend he’s ever had, the only one that didn’t just walk out. On the other hand, I couldn’t date him. Not only was I not attracted to him, but also so many aspects of him reminded me of my father, and it hurt sometimes.
They are both Pisces and have bipolar disorder, and they both have these little things that they do and say that are all too similar.
But I knew it wasn’t good, I couldn’t let it go on like this, because even one of his good friends approached me to tell me that his depression was based off me, and that if it was possible, I should try and arrange some distancing, so his depression didn’t swallow him up.
I knew it had to be done, but I just didn’t know how… I guess I was procrastinating, but I guess the universe solved that one for itself, the fateful night that it all went down.
We had been planning the camping trip for a while, and it finally happened. There were two two-person tents, and a 6-person tent. There were two couples, him, me, and this other boy. I guess nobody was really thinking, it just made sense at the time to let the couples have the 2 person tents, and to dump the rest of us in the big tent.
We were all in a good mood, having a good time, we just went with it. And it didn’t turn out to be a problem, the first night. We slept well, woke up, went on with our day, and it was all good, until the next night, the last night we were there. We all turned off our flashlights, said goodnight, and hit the hay. I was sleeping all right, but sometime in the middle of the night I woke up to his arms around me. Not holding me like I was a teddy bear, but rather, grabbing and groping my boobs. I was horrified, but I was also half asleep and for the most part, confused. I was thinking “what is he doing, what?” I pushed his hands away, rolled over, and fell back asleep.
What felt like maybe 10 minutes later, I woke up to the same thing, except he was grabbing my butt. By now I was very concerned and angry, and I grabbed his hands and firmly put them away, and rolled over again, but this time I waited, staring into the dark, waiting for him to do it again. Sure enough, he tried again. His hand movements were very cautioned, and I could’ve sworn he was awake. I pushed his hands away and rolled as far away from him as I possibly could, utterly terrified. I tried to stay awake, but I drifted to sleep once more.
It must have been about 5 in the morning when I woke again, because the sun was coming up.
It wasn’t bright yet, but I could barely make out where the roof of the tent was. The lighting was sort of..blue.
I woke up and I was in a vice grip. I couldn’t move his arms were so tightly around me. He was also dry-humping me. One of his hands was trying to get under my pants, in the front, and he was whispering to me “Becka… You’re mine. Nobody else can have you.”
When he said that, a huge rush of anger washed through me. I was immensely angry, and a little afraid I wouldn’t be able to escape. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I grabbed his arm and threw it away, sitting up. He let go at once and I could tell he was “awake” now. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head as I sat there trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Are you ok?” He asked as if he had no idea what was wrong. I didn’t answer him. I had to get out of there, as far away as I could. I got out of my sleeping bag and out of the tent, it was pouring rain. I ran down the hill and into the bathrooms. It wasn’t until I got inside the bathroom and stood against the door that I realized; I was crying.
I crumpled to a pile on the floor and couldn’t breathe. The feeling, I couldn’t describe it. I was disgusted with myself. How could I have let that happen?!! I should’ve known not to sleep in the same tent as him. I should’ve gotten up the first time; I guess I figured he would stop… How could this happen. I paced the cold bathroom, cursing myself. I would never forgive him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t forgive myself, ever.
I yelled at the mirror, everything I wanted to go back and say to him. But the thing was, I didn’t want talk to him, didn’t want to see him ever again. I didn’t know what to do. Had he done more, while I was sleeping? I couldn’t stay in the bathroom. Something about that experience, waking up “trapped”, I hated the small space in the bathroom, I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out. I walked out into the rain and pretty soon I was soaked.
I didn’t want to go back to the campsite. I didn’t want to go back into the tent, not ever. I walked around the parking lot, clawing at my hair and face, trying to get the feeling out of my mind, the feeling of him around me, but it wouldn’t go away. I sat down against a car and let my head fall into my knees. I don’t know how long I stayed like that. Maybe half an hour, but it seemed like the time was going too slow. I didn’t want to go back to the campsite, but what if everyone was awake? They would wonder where I was, so I guess I went back thinking they were awake.
I could tell he was, but I didn’t want to go back in there, that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I walked over to a tree and sat in the moss until they all came out.
He tried to talk to me, but I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. We ended up going on a hike, but he stayed there. It was nice, I didn’t have to see him, but it’s all that was on my mind. I was livid. How could I have let that happen? How could he disrespect me like that?
After the hike, we packed up and got into the car. He sat in front of me and I sat in the back. He passed me a note “What did I do?” I crumpled it into a ball, shook my head, and threw it at him. I couldn’t find the words; I didn’t want to talk to him at all.
It wasn’t until an hour after I got home, he messaged me on Facebook “Hey, what’s up?” I couldn’t hold back. I yelled at him through text, how could he do that, after all this time, how could he disrespect me like that. His responses were short and surprised, and very apologetic, but I was too angry to care.
At one point his friend (who was living with him at the time) messaged me and asked me why his buddy was so pale. He informed me that he had proceeded to throw up on his bedroom floor, and had no idea what he had done. I didn’t know what to make of that, there’s no way it could have been an accident. There’s no way he could’ve been “asleep”. But apparently, he was. But even then, I just couldn’t find it within me to believe it. People don’t DO that in their sleep.
But I can’t forgive him. After all this time, its still fresh in my mind, and honestly, I never want to see him, talk to him, or hear his name ever again. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t be his friend anymore. I just cant.
The other day it occurred to me what I should’ve done right from the start. I should’ve punched him. I really should’ve punched him, broke his nose, and walked away. I really should have. Why didn’t I? Because in the moment, after it happened, I didn’t want to punch him, touch him, or even look at him, ever again. I guess I was still trying to tell myself it didn’t actually happen, because, I guess, I never thought it would.
The thing is, I don’t CARE if it was an accident or not. That doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. And I don’t know what to do about it. I should be over it, but somehow I’m not. It still haunts me, and I had a nightmare about it happening again the other night, except in the nightmare, I couldn’t escape, I couldn’t get up, I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. And in the nightmare, he did things to me that I couldn’t escape, he was too strong. To say the least it was terrifying and I don’t know what to do with myself.
But I’m okay. I’m not going to let this affect me.