by April May Maple

Created on: June 08, 2010

Everything happens for a reason. When a door closes a window opens. God has a plan. There are many ways to say it and people do every time there is an unexpected death, a broken heart or something bad happens. It is the one idea given to victims as a means of inspiring hope. It gives them a reason to survive. Well, I didn’t have anyone to offer such thoughts when I was a victim. Yet, it still proved true.

As an outgoing college freshman, I had my fair share of friends who I would come home to visit often. I was a Political Science major, with high aspirations. I wanted to become a senator and I wanted to make the world a better place. I was a true patriot and Jefferson and Franklin's words ignited something inside of me. I was a feminist who had no doubts about the capabilities of women. Also, I was a virgin, believing that the ultimate act of love was in saving yourself for your spouse. I had my morals and clung to them. Someday I was going to be a well-educated, career woman with the perfect family.

My world crashed down around me, shattering into a million pieces that cut me deeply as I had to claw myself out. It was the very end of my winter break and having nothing else to do, I decided to hang out with Tara, a long time friend, and some of her friends. Some of her friends turned out to be her brother and his friend. I felt completely comfortable because I had spent the night at her house several times. Her brother had never paid any attention to me.

We played some card games as the guys fixed us drinks. After three screw drivers I was completely gone. I had been drinking plenty of times before and had never become this drunk. The room spun around me. I put my head on the table trying to stop the spinning and I was down for the count.

I remember very little from the rest of the night. The glimpses I have are fragmented details. I recall him carrying me to the bedroom and taking off my shoes. He complemented on how dainty the blue rose tattooed on my shoulder blade was. That was it until I woke up naked the next morning with his arm around me.

A girl’s first time is meant to be a memory that lasts a lifetime. We fantasize about rose pedals, candle light and love songs.  It should be with a man who is willing to take the extra effort to make it special and make her feel comfortable. Where that memory is supposed to be, I have a vague haziness.

The next day was surreal. Tara drove me home in silence. My head was full of facts I already knew.

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