I have decided that it is time to tell my story.
In August of 2004 I began to take classes at my local community college. I was seventeen. Most of the individuals there were 20 or older. I knew no one, no familiar faces, and not even a friend’s friend. I was alone and nervous about being in the world of adults. My boyfriend (who I am still with. 2 and ½ years now) I had been with for almost a year. He, like everyone else I knew, was a senior in high school. In August of that year I had had sex for the first time with my boyfriend. He lost his virginity at that time as well. Four years before this I had been diagnosed with an eating disorder and depression. In my anorexic state I reached 80 pounds (I was 5 ft. at that time) and with bulimia I reached 172 pounds (I was and still am 5’1”). I am now at a good weight for my height (105) and I consider myself a “dry” anorexic. My boyfriend was supportive of me and had helped me through these rough times. By the time I reached said college, I was healthy and happy. There it is as far as background information.
In September of that year, I met a guy named Sam in my Math class. He was nice and friendly, and I started talking to him in between classes and hanging out at school. Now, from the beginning he knew I had a long time boyfriend. No questions there. I had been having a difficult time with my boyfriend, nothing serious just some communication problems and I talked to Sam about them to get a guy’s perspective. He told me numerous times to leave him, and told me I didn’t deserve to be with a guy “like that.” He always acted as if there was some big issue in that way, but never got specific about why I should leave. He told me that since I had only gone out with one guy I didn’t really know yet what love was. Did he think he was wise in the ways of love because he was 20, 3 years older than me? I told him I didn’t have to date around to know that I was in love. I shrugged it off.
November 14th rolled around, my boyfriend and I went out for our anniversary. Dinner and a walk in the park. I had even bought a new shirt that looked nice on me. He gave me a beautiful topaz necklace. I was so happy.
November 17th, my 18th birthday. I went to class. I had a break in between classes. Spanish would be in 2 hours. So I went to hang out with Sam on a log we usually sat on. He didn’t know it was my birthday. He kept going on about my boyfriend, having such a “concerned” look in his kind eyes. I finally told him to tell me why he was railing on or be quiet. He told me some story about him recognizing my boyfriend from some pictures of his cousin’s party. Drinking and smoking. His cousin laughed about finding “that guy” fucking some girl upstairs. All with a sad look on his face. I was more than shocked and of course upset. I didn’t know what to think. This was one of my good friends. The guy who had never lied to me. The guy who always laughed at my jokes. The guy I trusted. But my boyfriend…. Was he even capable of acting like that? I didn’t know what to think.
After going home, my boyfriend came over to have cake with us and I confronted him on the issue. At the end of it all, I found Sam’s story to be ludicrous. It was insane. On Monday, when I went back to school, I told Sam this and said I didn’t want the topic discussed further. He said he might have been mistaken. Subject closed.
Tuesday, just now I realize what day it was. I remember what I wore that day: jeans, the shirt I wore for my anniversary, the necklace my boyfriend gave me, my favorite pair of boots, and a jacket. My hair was long then, and for once I wore it down that day. This is getting hard to write, damn. I brought tennis shoes with me, because I liked to go walking around the paths in the woods.
It was the 2 hour break before Spanish. Sam told me he wanted to talk about something. I was sitting in the courtyard and told him to sit, but he said he wanted to talk to me privately. Whatever, we had been alone before. And why would I even consider being afraid of my friend? I put on my tennis shoes and we walked down to sit by a creek. It was down a hill, obscured by trees. We set our backpacks half way up the hill by a log, and walked the rest of the way down. God, I was young and so lonely. I realize now that from the very beginning he had been manipulated my teenage insecurities and fears. We sat down by the creek him on one side me on the other.
Sam looked at me and told me, doubt and apprehension in his voice, that he had feelings for me. He would give up anything; do anything, just to be with me. He just wanted to know if I felt the same. I told him, yes I had feelings for him, just not THOSE feeling, and I was in love with my boyfriend and was going to stay with him. He told me that that was all he had wanted to know. After an awkward silence I told him I should be heading to class.
We began to walk up the hill. I was in front of him. It was a steep part of the hill when it happened. He grabbed my wrist, spinning me around, and pushed me down as he “fell” on top of me. You never realize how strong a person is until that moment. All thought shut down at that moment. I felt like an animal. I hit and kicked, I got him off of me and I stood up and started climbing again, hoping it was all him being stupid, thinking he was funny. I told him I had to get to class. I felt again his hand wrapped around my wrist. And found myself on my back, leaves in my hair, covered in dirt. I told him to stop. I think I surprised him with my strength and managed to kick him in the stomach after squirming away. His face had been so close, that stupid smirk he always had on his face inches away. I started climbing again telling him to stop it; I had to get to class. It’s funny that that was all I could think about. My brain didn’t want to think of anything else. I felt a sharp push and landed face first. Spread eagle. Feeling completely defenseless. He was on top of me and I knew he was happy to be there. All I could think of was that my shirt was going to rip. My shirt was going to rip. My shirt was going to rip. I began to struggle. I felt like I wasn’t even there. I was afraid but numb all at the same time. I struggled and got on my side, and then I kicked him in the shins. He stumbled backwards. A couple of girls walked by on the sidewalk up the hill. He didn’t grab me again. They will never know how grateful I am.
None of it seemed real. I sat on the log where my backpack was. All I could do was stare into nothing. Sam sat down next to me like nothing had happened. He pointed at my wrists, where bruises had formed already and said, “He (my boyfriend) hits you, doesn’t he?” All I could muster from my vocabulary was, “No.” Even then he tried to manipulate me into thinking he hadn’t done anything. From that point on, until this past October I blocked it all out. I began to have night terrors, not remembering anything, but waking up black and blue from hitting and scratching myself. I became paranoid. Afraid of everything. I cried all of the time. And still I buried it into my subconscious.
Two days later I told him that I didn’t want to see or talk to him ever again. He was hurting my relationship with my boyfriend. He looked so sad. He didn’t understand. He hated losing me. That sociopath bastard.
And so I sit here today. That is my story.