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.
I know people kept handing me drinks.
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?
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