I reached out to a couple of my friends, but they laughed it off, not seeing the pain I was in or the damage it did to me.

Sophomore year there was a guy I met and felt that I trusted enough to fool around with. We went over things we expected from each other and things we refused to do, as I feel all sexually intimate people should do, and we decided we were going to "do it". When we started, it was okay, but he was off and I felt uncomfortable almost immediately. I didn't stop him, not wanting to upset him, and felt that I had to go through with the encounter because I had already okayed it. However, my unease grew as he started to strip me quickly, not even bothering to try to get me worked up. He bent me over, and forced himself inside of me where I had told him not to without any warning. I begged for him to stop, and eventually stopped begging, instead withdrawing into myself and mentally cut myself off from what was occurring to my body. He did more to me, and eventually finished. Afterward I reached out to a couple of my friends, but they laughed it off, not seeing the pain I was in or the damage it did to me. Even worse was when I lied about my encounter to a police officer who was investigating another girl's rape. It wasn't until this past summer when I told my current boyfriend about it that I found someone who cared and was willing to help me through it. Even so, I still hate myself for it, and I can't help but feel that it was my fault.