Enough

It seemed like any other work event – travel to another location, go through training until 7, and then go back to the hotel to unwind. However, during this trip it happened differently. I had been scheduled to train with a lady I worked with prior, a lady I trust even to this day. After our day of training, she and I decided to go to the restaurant across the parking lot from our hotel. She and I decided to have a few drinks – to celebrate a successful day of training. So we drank, and ate so that we didn’t get drunk too fast. It was after my third drink that things seemed strange. The drinks were getting stronger, and I decided to stop. For the sake of identity, I’ll call my friend “D”. D had sparked a conversation with someone at the bar/restaurant and he invited her back to his room – no funny business involved. She said sure, and we walked back to the hotel. I told her I’d go with her to play cards if that was what she wanted, she said yes and told me if at any point I wanted to leave – just let her know. So we ventured into this room, D shuffled the cards and dealt them. Before the game began – in walked the bartender from across the parking lot. I was tense, but eased up because things seemed okay. We never finished that game of cards, in fact we never even got started. The guy D had been talking to at the bar distracted her and got her in another room – away from me and left me alone with a monster. I was powerless and scared. In the 8 minutes I was alone with this monster, he ripped my shirt after pushing me onto the couch, tore his pants off and forced himself into my mouth. I tried pushing him away; but that just made his grip on my head tighten. I was crying and moving as much as I could to get him to stop. When he finally realized he wasn’t getting as much pleasure as he wanted, he stopped. Looked at my pants and tore them down. He laughed as if to mock me, and hovered over me as if he were calculating what to do next. He didn’t have a condom on him; it was in his car. So he left to retrieve it. I took that opportunity to pull up my pants, fix myself as much as possible and I ran out of the room as fast as I could. I took three showers when I got back to my hotel room – and I still felt disgusting. How could this happen to me? It was late, too late in my mind to call the cops. I’d do that in the morning after training. So I tried to sleep as best as I could. Sleep didn’t come easy. Every time I closed my eyes – there he was. Laughing at me. When the sun finally came up – I was exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. I thought I had no tears left to cry. Little did I know, the flood gates would open again and I’d be a red-eyed mess. The PC manager pulled me into his office because he knew something wasn’t right. So he called the cops when I told him a brief story. That was when I was told “I’m sorry, you aren’t from here so there isn’t anything we can do for you”. That phrase haunted me for months. Until finally – I had had enough. I wasn’t going to be scared of things anymore, I wouldn’t let things get to me. I’d build a wall if I had to. Keep everyone closed off. I had Enough of feeling sorry for myself. It’s been a few years since this happened, and I’ll admit – I have moments where certain things trigger me. But I tell myself it’s enough. It wasn’t my fault, I can’t blame myself or D for what happened. I blame him. And I blame the police for not doing anything.

— Anonymous