That was what he said. “Do you trust me?” Several different responses went through my mind, but none of them were the one I said which was “Yes.” I am not sure why I said that; it was nowhere near the truth in all honesty. What I had really wanted to say was that I didn’t trust him and to please back up. But I felt too intimidated to say that, so I settled for yes. As I think about it now though, maybe he would have done it anyways. It’s hard for me to say he raped me, when he didn’t f*** me. But he did continue to touch me long after I said no. It’s not like he hadn’t done that before, but it was never like this. Caresses that I once craved now forced their way up and down my skin. He kissed me, and continued to kiss me or try to even after I didn’t respond to his lips on mine and tried to push him away. It’s hard to believe that once upon a time I liked the taste of him, that I enjoyed kissing him. Now it’s a tongue that repulses me, forcing its way into my mouth over and over ignoring my opposition to it. It’s lips that are dry and cracked, greedily trying to claim what isn’t theirs to claim. A mouth kissing my body and sucking on my skin and I want nothing more than to push it off. It’s not like I don’t try; it doesn’t keep him off me for long though. No matter what I do he continues doing the things I have repeatedly said no to, that I have made it obvious I don’t want. I want to scrub every single f***ing trace of him off me. I want to have a new body that has never been touched by him. I hate myself for feeling so trapped that I allowed him to get off on my body. He asked me to help him, and I knew if I didn’t he would keep trying and I was already so tired of fighting him and trying to get away. Maybe I should’ve just dealt with it, but I was so desperate for him to stop, so I talked to him just like I used to. I closed my eyes and I imagined I was talking to someone else. No one person in particular. Just anybody other than him. I wanted to vomit, but I didn’t. Maybe I should have; maybe if I did he would have realized how much I had not wanted to be a part of what he did. But instead I just scrubbed my body as clean as I could possibly get it. I smiled. I said I was good. I had him drive me to my dad’s friend’s house. I introduced him to people he hadn’t previously met and said he was my friend. I acted like I was okay, like I was happy. But I was so numb and completely revolted by myself.

Today I want to cry, but that feels too weak. I feel absolutely disgusting. I can still feel him invading my body and my boundaries. My body aches in all the places he touched me. I want a new one. I want to die, but I don’t want to stop living. I want to be okay again.