Dear {Insert Name Here} #2

Dear {Insert Name Here}

All of this Supreme Court Nominee stuff in the media is causing me awful anxiety. I cannot believe that the Republicans are questioning these victims! It's triggered a whole re-visitation to dark events when we were young. I am keeping the details vague, as I've had several days to consider whether naming names would serve any positive purpose. I decided that because you apologized in public to me, and it would never change the outcome, or help me heal, I'm going to remain mute on the who's who details. You and I know.
 I was Bleep-teen years old, a month into my role as the "new girl" at a new school. It was a bit overwhelming for me because in my hometown, I was pretty much a pariah. From as early as First Grade, I recall feeling an outcast. Tough time making friends. Poor kid, dumpy haircuts, shit clothes, ADHD, anxious as fuck, etc. 
Here I was, in the probation period of friendships. Lots of cool kids, from various cliques, wanted to be friendly. I got invited to the first BIG party of the year. 
You were there. I recall you were the All-American Guy. Very good looking, very popular, multi-sports star, and I'm pretty sure you were smart as fuck too. Teachers and students alike adored you. None of these were known to me until the weeks after that night. I barely knew "of" you prior to this night. 
I had WAY too much to drink, so the 2 girls I was with left me to sleep it off in the flatbed of a truck. I was told (later) that it was the truck of a friend of one of the girls I was with, but was not the vehicle in which I had arrived to the party. 
You stumbled outside (perhaps to pee?? I cannot fathom that you actually PLANNED this encounter. I believe you were not that vile) and somehow figured out I was there as you walked by. You crawled up beside me and proceeded to unbutton my shirt. Which, by the way, bore a HUGE signal as to my condition, I had spilled a DRINK down the front of my pale shirt (pink or white) and that drink was blackberry brandy or some shit. I recall the shirt went into the trash because I could not imagine that horrible stain away. You were undoing my pants, then yours, all while I had my eyes half closed, slurringly pleading for you to stop. I even threatened I was going to throw up, perhaps to make you stop, perhaps I really felt it coming... I don't recall which. My bra was undone, shirt pushed up, pants half down, and you tried to have sex with me. What saved us both was the fact that you were so drunk that you could not maintain your erection. I shudder when I think of the alternative ending that may have been. 
What has caused me the most detriment was not even the act itself. Instead, I just shrugged the girls away when they later asked about the condition of my clothing upon returning to get me very shortly after. I didn't even share details with them until AFTER the shitstorm on Monday began. 
I was by my locker between classes, and you walked up behind me. I had been sneered at since my arrival to school that morning. EVERYONE seemed to know, although I cannot recall how. I have a hazy recollection of your departure that night. I don't recall if someone found us, or you left on your own. I was in and out of consciousness. I do know that I did not have sex that night. I had my period and I still had a tampon still properly in place when we got back to my friend's house after the party. 
When you approached me at my locker Monday morning, I recall hearing a whoosh inside my head, and I was afraid I was going to faint in front of all of these people. Then you APOLOGIZED for "what happened Blankday night" and I just stared at you, and then the floor. I scuttled away, trying to avoid the stares all around me.
What changed me forever was the way all of the FEMALES talked about me and shunned me. I was called a slut, a whore, and my potential 'friend' list shrunk to almost no one. People who weren't even AT the party, deciding they knew what happened better than the two involved. 
I've never been able to trust women the same. In the instant I consider a woman might be a bit competitive or cynical toward other women, etc. I shut the door to that relationship because I don't ever want to be on the receiving end of that feeling again. 
#IBelieveHer