WAS I RAPED?
By: Ade Odunuyi
Tags: Consent, Sex, Healing, Abuse, Rape

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Confusion washed over me. I wasn’t in my purple and orange painted room, wasn’t in my bed, my laptop wasn’t in its usual place — beside me, as I always watched a movie before sleeping. I was in a different room, someone held me from behind me, and that wasn’t all, I was naked.

Just then, the memories start to return. The kissing, the alcohol, the tears, the being held down, the utterances of no and stop and ‘I wasn’t ready’, the penetration and the pain that came after. Everything returned. My body ached. But not as much as my lower region did. I sat up from my lying position, and looked at the perpetrator. I knew him. We went out just last night. I liked him but wasn’t sure of agreeing to a relationship yet, not to speak of sex.

There he was, sleeping peacefully, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just abused me some hours ago for what my brain remembered as a long time.

Abuse. Abuse? Was this abuse? Was I raped? Did I give him consent to do what he did? Was going into a hotel room with him my consent? What really happened last night?

While my mind asked questions, he woke up. “Come back to bed” he said.

Come back? Come back? What does he mean by that? I couldn’t wrap my head around his statement. Is this how rapists act in the morning? Did they hug, cuddle, smother and hold their victims? Or did they hit, embarrass or abuse their victims even more? Did they even murder their victims to hide their heinous crime?

I ignore his request and go to the bathroom where I take some time to stare at myself in the mirror before attempting to wash off the evidence of last night’s events from my body. I try to wash off the dirt I feel, but it’s not on my skin, it’s in my soul.

I finally give up and step out of the shower. I forgot to take my clothes with me. I return to the room to pick them up when I see a condom wrapper. And then It comes back to me, I remember telling him to use a condom. But then why was I saying no and asking him to stop If I told him to use a condom.

Had my brain accepted the fact that this man would not let me go and so had asked for a lesser evil, using a condom? Or had I given consent first and then withdrawn it? And then again there was the question of my crying? Why was I crying? If I gave my consent, this guy would have been the second man I would have sex with ever, so was I crying for the loss of my innocence, for my Ex or because I just wanted this man to stop!?

Days have gone by and I am still haunted by the events of that night. I know I have PTSD from that night. I can’t stand being touched by a man peacefully. I really wish I knew what had happened that day but I don’t. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know If I should hate him or me or…… I don’t know if I should go for a rape discovery programme or if my asking him to use a condom is consent and so I have no business with that. I only wish I knew why me? Do I look like an easy target? Am I too loose? If I report this, wont I be asked, why were you there with a man at such an ungodly hour of the night.

I wish I had the answers to all my questions. But I don’t.

But this I know. I will get past this. I will heal. And I will guard the remaining part of my life with fierceness.