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Age 16 was a nightmare.

I was a nightmare. 

Drinking, Drugs, Sex, Violence. You name it, I did it.

I have a whole month that is one giant black hole. I remember snippets here and there, but they come few and far between. I was a black-out drinker, living with a drug dealer, and every night was a party.

But there’s one flashback I keep getting and I wish I had the rest of the pieces to the puzzle of that night.

I know I was drinking.

A lot.

I know people kept handing me drinks.

More.

More.

More.

The last thing I remember is waking up naked in a bed with four guys who were not my drug-dealing boyfriend. I remember trying to find my clothes. I remember being scared and not knowing what happened or how I got to be in that situation.

What happened that night?

Why?

Even at my drunkest, I still had a sliver of morality. I’d never in a million years consent to something like that.

Here I am, years later, STILL trying to put the pieces together.

Was I raped?

Was I drugged?

I don’t know!

and it kills me.

 

I’m scared of the truth

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