I’m empty

My story starts with saying yes to my first ever real boyfriend. I was 18 and he was younger than me but he knew more than I did about sex. I was naive and gullible and obeyed everything he said. Our goal was to get married. I knew that he was the one from the very beginning. He coerced me into having sex with him the first time but I couldn’t sit on his penis all the way it hurt too bad. I told him I didn’t want to and he didn’t break my hymen so he let me go. He told me he didn’t want me to do anything unless I wanted to. So days passed by and he asked me if I was ready. I told him I wasn’t.

Then, he stayed over our house to spend the night because he didn’t have anyone to take him back home. My mom trusted me to make the right decisions and I told her about everything, usually. That night we went into a back room in my home. The garage had been converted into a room that was supposed to be for storage but had a bed for guests. Then he asked and asked and asked and told me that he loved me and asked if this was what I wanted. I told him I loved him too and thought he practically is my husband, why not. I was convinced that a wife should obey her husbands wishes and if this is what he wanted, why not.

He pulled out a condom which was the first I’d ever seen in person. I thought it looked gross and smelled worse. I thought to myself “why am I doing this” I tried to push him back a bit. He paused for a bit and then kept doing what he was doing. “Why aren’t you going to stop him?” I thought. “You’re excited too” another thought came to my head. “You brought this upon yourself”. “Now if you don’t get married you’re going to hell” “no man is going to want you after this so you better be right”.

That was the worst decision I made. I laid on the bed slowly crying as he penetrated me. It hurt so bad and I just laid there. I wasn’t ready for this! I’m not ready! “Wait!” “Stop!” “Stop!” “It hurts!" As I’m telling him he tells me “hold on” “I’m almost there” “it’s almost done”. All I can think is. “I was never ready for this”. Then, my hymen broke and it felt a bit better but there was blood and I freaked out. I felt relieved it was over. Not happy that I shared some kind of beautiful moment with someone I loved. I felt relieved it was finally over.

He got off of me and I felt my eyes glaze over. I felt like a zombie that I wasn’t in control of my body. We walked out of the room and sat in the living room. I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I cried again.

A swarm of thoughts came into my head and I went up to my room to go to sleep. I don’t remember much else from that night except the feeling of extreme shame and the thought that I can’t tell anyone what happened.

What was this? Rape? “No you can’t call it that” YOU MADE THIS DECISION” “THIS IS YOUR FAULT” “now you have your own secrets” These thoughts sounded sinister, evil. I didn’t know what to think.

He texted me to see if he could come over again. I said “sure” as if What happens was just a one time occurrence. He said he was coming over tomorrow. “TOMORROW!?!” “Why did you say he could come over?” “He is my boyfriend after all, almost like my husband now”. “I mean, I’ll just tell him I don’t want to and he’ll understand”. “Right”