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I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

I was assaulted by a man, who was an acquaintance, in my apartment. We had hooked up once before, and it had been quick but fine. Things started consensually, but at one point it began to hurt me and I asked him if we could stop. At that point, he pushed down on my upper back, high enough that my mouth was half pushed into the pillow. I froze, and couldn't move at all. I just waited for him to finish whatever it was he wanted to do. The aftermath was extremely confusing. I first thought that it was just a bad experience. But as the months went on, I realised it was playing on my mind too much to be dismissed as that. Six months after the assault, I sought some medical tests. It was a year after, amid a particular run of sexual assault stories in the media, that I contacted rape crisis centre to get help. I also reported to the Gardai several years after my assault, and while they handled it well they also warned that if I was to pursue an investigation that the process could be very exposing and I chose not to take it further. My assault took place only six months after I had come out as queer, and so it felt like much of what I had worked hard to accept about myself and to go through as part of coming out was impacted -- the freedom to be who I was and to enjoy my sexuality was taken away for a long time. My assault was not the first time nor the last time I experienced non-consensual behaviour, although was by far the most serious and impactful occurrence.

I was a prudish teenager in the '80s, an introvert who wanted friend but only on my terms (they had to respect my boundaries, and I had many). It was only in my twenties, while I was working with more liberal people, that I made a conscious decision to cast off my old, narrow way of relating to people because my barriers had become walls. So I opened up more, made myself vulnerable...and attracted perverts. Older men, bosses, colleagues and contacts (I worked in industry). I still had enough boundaries to prevent actual rape, but I would not push them away as forcefully; I would make light of it when a man put his hands on my hips or made some inappropriate comment. This went on for years. I had a a few boyfriends in my twenties including one I stayed with for three years and loved (I still love him but don't want a relationship with him and have to keep enforcing psychological boundaries - he was never a sex pest but he wants to be friends and gets upset when I don't want to meet him). Being an introvert, and possibly Aspie (I have yet to find the courage to look for a diagnosis) I have always felt like an outsider, and in relationships always felt as if I was playing at being "sexy". In my forties, the men who breached my sexual boundaries (with inappropriate comments and the occasional arm around me as I sat beside them on a work assignment) were men my own age and slightly younger; I was still attracting men in the same age group: 40s. They would obviously want to take things further, but I would always put up that barrier...and I noticed that after I rebuffed a man I'd lose a work opportunity. I was frozen out of the cliques in my profession (I don't have family in my industry and I did not go to university so I didn't have the underpinning network to fall back on). I dealt with this by developing a tough, jokey exterior; desperate to prove that I was "not a prude", I merged my career with a rather tarty image (I cannot go into details here without possibly revealing who I am or, worse, narrowing it down - which would not be fair to others who might not want their stories told). At first, it actually helped my career and social life; suddenly I was great craic, a youthful looking middle-aged woman who was happy in her own skin, free-spirited - and "great craic". The men who used to flirt with me would also mock-boast "I'm a prude"; they had respectable wives / partners (indeed many of these women were my colleagues). Eventually, it was time for this middle-aged disgrace to be managed out of the industry. It didn't happen all at once; my mentors and good contacts retired or died (these were the people who never abused me). There were various reasons: cutbacks, personality differences, my political views were at odds with my bosses' views, and there were new people looking to fill my role. I adapted by finding a mosaic career, doing a few courses and muddling through. Now I see my former colleagues (the flirts and their partners) getting on with their careers; I am on the outside, looking in. But I was always on the outside. And I have no doubt that my story is very common (a bit like me, some would say!).

I don't imagine that you are lying in bed, thinking about number of years ago. That's my curse to live with. The Mark you made upon me. You raped me, in that miserable and dark car park. Held against my will, and now I lie here thinking, reliving, or simply just living with what you did. Wishing I could change The past. Wishing I could change Your past that you probably don't even remember. Lucky you. Rape and move on. Lucky you. I didn't save your number. Lucky you. I don't know your last name. Lucky you. I didn't report it. Lucky me. I didn't report it... because what was I wearing? And how much had I drank? And why didn't I scream or fight? And why didn't I run or take flight? Facing fear, I froze. Lucky, lucky you.

Last year a friend of mine invited me to his house for drinks. I thought nothing of this as it wasn’t the first time. I began to feel really drunk and went to lay down for a while. When I came back around, I realised his hands were down my shorts. I wanted to scream in that moment but no sound came out. I wanted to run away but my body wouldn’t move. I was completely paralysed. When it eventually stopped he then joked about the blood all over his hands, I was shocked and embarrassed that my dignity had been taken from me like that. For months I felt guilt and shame that it was my fault. I had panic attacks and nightmares that still persist. I found the courage to speak up one day and never looked back. I have so many people now who support me when I need it. You are not alone ♥️

13 years ago, My Ex-Fiancé didn’t take no for an answer and raped me anally. All I could do was lie there in my own bed in my own home and allow him carry on. And even after that we stayed together for another 6 months, I have never told anyone the type of rape it was or how exactly it happened. The shame and fear of judgement is too overwhelming. I still feel disgusting from it. Lately the flashbacks are getting more frequent. I never reported him, I wish I had gone to a doctor at the time but didn’t. I have moved on but will never forget the feeling.

Number years since what happened to me. There has been so much pain and hurt. One of these men was constanty asking me to sleep with his friends but my answer was always no , never, not a chance , You see i found it so hard to accept what had happened because i had to much to drink . I do believe that something was put into my drink as i had no more to drink than what i normally would . I was a at party with these two people. I dont remember leaving the house but i do remember getting sick out of the taxi on the way home. Both of these animals took turns to have sex with me . I remember just lying there with no clothes on and been unable to move unable to fight them of . Both of them went outside and i remember the strong smell of cigarettes and could hear them both laughing . Shortly after both of them left and i lay there confussed , helpless and alone. I must have fallen asleep because i remember it was bright out and one of these men came back to the house. No accountability has been taken from either of these and this is what makes healing so hard for me. Im trying to take back my power but some days are just so hard. Both of these men took adavantage of my vunrability. Learning to tust myself and love myself is my main goal for now and knowing that i did nothing wrong,

I spoke out against someone who I was so afraid of and still am, he perceived this "power" he had over me and his place in society. I never thought I'd be able to tell anyone never mind report, but I did. I am finding the process of the journey for justice very difficult and sometimes very isolating. On the bad days I have to remind myself, no one is above the law just because their place in society and no one no matter who they are has a right to exploit others. Looking back I sometimes feel like I've been hit in the face with a reality check of the two years of control and mind games used to take advantage of me

I'm a woman from a middle class background living in a small town in Ireland. I work full time just as I have for most of my life. Abuse of any sort was to me something that happened to others. I guess I lived a protected life going from my daddy's house in to my first marriage. The end of the marriage started my road of abuse. Which I now tell in a conversation to my abuser : “Ha ha you got me at a vulnerable time in life. Do you remember the party we met at, the one in the country hall? I pretended that my colleague was my husband to try and get rid of you. But you were so persistent that eventually you wore me down with your sweet funny chat and smile. I was captured by the spell of a promise, a promise of a different life. So we moved in together. Everything was fine for a while but now looking back I see how you monitored me. I used to wonder at request texts for money always came when I was at the pass machine across from the taxi rank. Later much later I discovered your spy, the taxi driver. I avoided that place and walked further in all weathers. You began to text if I was later coming home from work, never asking if I was ok but demanding to know where I was, demanding to know what was keeping me. Now I know you timed my walk home from work, and questioned me if I left for work early. But I covered my tracks at times because I left my work rota lying around with the hours adjusted to give myself some me time. Boy, little did I know that the texts and time monitoring were to be mild forms of abuse compared to what you were going to put me through. Do you remember the night you wanted burger and chips but we had no money and you threatened to cut me up and put me in the boot or the night you beat me with the steel lamp because I used to light it to sleep as I was afraid of the dark. I was so lucky you didn't kill me. Flying plates of dinner became the norm because the food was either to hot/cold or not what you wanted. No matter how hard I worked outside the home to keep a roof over our heads you got worse. Trying to intimidate me and my manager by coming to the shop where I worked, insisting that we celebrate your birthday by going to mass. You even abused me with the readings from the bible. I got to the stage that I tore random pages from your bible. It was my secret pleasure when you searched for passages to quote from and couldn't find them. The public abuse happened very little but it was embarrassing. But it also was my saving because at your nephews holy communion your lovely display gave me the courage to tell your family that I had a safety order against you. Do you know that even with all of your following of me I still managed to keep most of my appointments with the lovely lady from Organisation. She gave me the courage to go to the Gardai and complain about you. But I learned from them that you'd complained about me being a bad wife. What a massive mistake it was to marry you but that was before your abuse got physical and I didn't see anything abusive in your behaviour. I made enough notes about what you did to me for court. Boy was I naïve going in to that court room. Looking back now I should have taken the barring order when the judge was giving it to me. BUT no, I was going to change the world and us, everything was going to work out fine and we would all live happy ever after. Fairy tales ha ha. I settled for a safety order which the Gardai explained to you when they came to our house later that day. Nothing really worked because you though you could still follow me around on your bike. I could write a book on the ways you abused me, locking me out of the bathroom when I needed to use the toilet but then I rented a house with 3 bathrooms. Things grew so bad that when I got the courage to throw you out that didn't even work. Wisdom hit you and you'd get the Gardai around to tell me that because your name was on the lease I'd have to let you in. The night you raped me was one of those times and it was the last time ever you touched me. I thought I'd jammed my bedroom door tight enough to keep you out but when I was sleeping you got in. You pinned me to the bed and told me you loved me as you forced yourself inside of me. The pain and fear still live with me. The DPP decide the evidence was not enough for a court case so I moved to an apartment behind coded gates for my safety. Yes you were gone but the impact of what you did to me changed my life for years. Walking and singing as I walked kept me sane at times. I threw myself in to my job and even got a new job in the city. But the city meant more loud noises to make me jump a mile off the ground. If anyone shouted not even at me I shook and had to try not to cry. I witnessed a row one day and it brought everything back. The emotional and physiological damage done by you left me a shell of my former self. Yes in work I used to be a power lady but not anymore. YOU changed me. BUT you know what, with the help of the Organisation, Organisation and my social worker I have found myself again. I have a great job, a great life and wonderful supportive friends who are here for me. YOU did not destroy me. I am a victor over your abuse because I walked away and stayed away. Today I live in a happy home where the food is eaten and not thrown around. I am not beaten but loved and respected. I work full time at my day job, while I blog and have gotten my confidence back so that I am now a public speaker. To anyone reading this and suffering abuse I say to you "Please contact Organisation. You deserve to be loved and respected" Darkness only lasts for a short time and then the sun shines forever

It was my freshman year of college at a frat party. I’d only started drinking about 4 months prior. Only about 15-20 minutes after arriving at the party, I took a drink from a friend of a friend - Not knowing it had been roofied. Within about 10-15 minutes, my memory went completely. My friend reports seeing me glassy eyed, stumbling and very unwell. She did everything she could to sober me up, but made a decision to leave me at the party in a bed so I wouldn’t get in trouble with our small Christian college. I don’t blame her for this decision and never have - I probably would’ve done the same thing. The next morning I woke up, no pants on, next to a man I didn’t know. In the coming weeks, I learned he took photos of me that night and sent them to his entire frat group chat. He proceeded to stalk me around my campus, send me texts like “you look so good naked” and harass me further. My life was a living hell and to cope with it all, I dissociated from myself and developed an eating disorder to gain back some sense of control in my life. It took me a year to finally open up to my mom and sister about what I’d experienced. This was a decision sort of thrust upon me when I decided to report my rapist to my school and they told me I’d need support through the process. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and while I was told they couldn’t do anything because it was my word against his, I am so truly glad I did. Telling my story opened up my journey to healing - One that number years later has allowed me to raise awareness for sexual assault and gow we can prevent it, as well as provide a support system for other individuals like me.

Do not ever give up. I have got this far and u can too. The weaker and more vulnerable I feel the more God can shine His light through me and on to other people. I am 56 now but finally starting to really live my life through the power might and gentleness of my God who has saved me. I am His child. I am beautiful in His eyes. He loves me so much and sends me people who really care about me. He can save you too no matter how lost u think u are.

I used to think rape was what you'd see in movies. Jumped on by a stranger and violently assaulted. Turns out I was wrong. I have been raped on multiple occasions and didn't fully understand it until I got older and wiser and also found out that I'm autistic. This is what helped me to understand what had really happened. I learned and studied autism in girls and women and figured it out from there. I was vulnerable and impressionable and masked so much that I was a completely different person on the outside than who I really was on the inside. When I was younger and had no clue that I was being preyed upon due to my vulnerability and started to pretend as though I just liked sex and was willingly promiscuous. It was a lie I told myself and my friends so that I didn't have to face the fact I couldn't and didn't know how to say no and mean it. There is flight, fight and also freeze. So many times I was telling them no and when they didn't stop I just froze and realised that my voice was pointless and they weren't listening to me. It was easier to allow them to finish without fighting and having it be violent too. I didn't realise how badly the mental impact would be. One particular night I was out in a bar and a few of us went back to a house party. One guy was showing interest in me and I actually liked it. We kissed and had fun and then he led me to a bedeoom and I hesitated but ended up going in. When he started to undress me I held my dress and said no. I said it so many times and he started to get really rough and forceful and started saying things to me about leading him on and what did I think was going to happen and I just wanted it rough. I realised that no matter what I said, sex was going to happen so I had two options, fight and be both violently and sexually assaulted or just have the sex without any further resistance which would mean that I'd be only sexually assaulted without the extra violence. I chose the latter and for a long time I believed that I just had sex that night. I now realise that was absolutely rape. It's played with my mental health for over ten years and I'm ready to acknowledge what happened to me instead of being in denial.

Each year it crashes in like the waves beating the stand. It brings a swirl of emotion and feelings unbeknownst to my fragile mind. My body seises as it struggles to stay afloat. I gasp as the sharp prickly water traps my body, unable to move, but only to breathe, breathe... breathe... and breathe. A calm air slowly comes over me as I become conscious of this storm. Sobering me, I remember that it will pass...

It wasn’t until I read this platform that I realised what happened wasn’t trivial. A friend at the time told me to go to the gardai, if not for me, but for anyone else who might have been affected or might later be affected, because you just don’t know. I handed them everything, and they did nothing. If it wasn’t for the help of my friends I don’t think I would still exist. I attempted suicide 6 years after it happened because the concept of getting serious with my boyfriend meant in my head that it would happen again. I suffered flashbacks and he was always so patient. I’m happy to say, now that boyfriend is my fiancée, it does get better. I was in college, I had a serious eating disorder, and this guy was the only one who didn’t try to change me but accepted that I was very sick and didn’t demand that I eat. In hindsight that was a huge red flag. He was happier that I was vulnerable and didn’t want me to get better. After a year together he started to get violent. He refused to let me be by myself. I remember very distinctly the first time he got violent on my birthday, and the only place I could be was in my bathroom because it locked. I sat there all day, knowing he was outside, not knowing what would happen next. When I came out, he was just watching tv as if nothing had happened. He would routinely steal my debit card and buy food for himself, knowing that was my food budget for the week, and none of what he bought I was comfortable with eating. He kept me from recovering for two years. At one point, he took every penny I had, and had no money to go home for the weekend. I had to lie and tell my parents I was staying there to finish essays, I was so ashamed that he could control me like that. I was in denial, believed it was just harsh words and he didn’t know himself or his strength, I was just too weak. I tried to break up with him, but he guilted me into taking him back, saying no one else would ever love me. I took him back. We went to a Christmas party, and he made me feel guilty for him because he ‘missed’ the last bus home, so he asked to stay on my couch. I couldn’t say no. He knew everyone else was out at the Christmas party, so he coerced me into sex, as he had done before, but I saw it as a way to give him what he wanted to avoid him getting violent. Until then the sex got violent too. That night I didn’t consent, I actively said no. I cried quietly and when it got worse I asked him to stop. In response, he strangled me till I couldn’t see properly, and left bruises. When I tried to scream he clawed at my face and scratched my retina, leaving me needing glasses (which I never needed before). I bled everywhere, but he just went to sleep with his arm around my neck so I couldn’t leave. The next day I went into uni, and tried to tell a former friend who studied law, but because she was his friend she joked that he was into BDSM and things like that happen all the time if it just goes wrong. After she told him that I had mentioned it he had me sign a ‘contract’ that said how good he was at sex. I honestly can’t remember how he convinced me to do that, it was all a blur. I don’t remember most of that year, but I know he sent me threatening letters that never stopped until I moved house a year later. After that, as she was the first person I told, I thought no one would ever believe me. But a friend, without me saying anything, let me know that he knew something had gone on. Something was wrong, and finally I told him. He convinced me to tell others, to go to the Gardai, to get therapy, to go to the rape crisis centre and tell them. Another friend let me stay at her house almost all the time as he sent me death threats by text and on social media. They pulled me through university and helped me in any way possible, organised for me to have a separate exam hall from him, and even brought me on nights out to know that I was still able to have fun, and I was still loved even after it all. My one regret is not pursuing it further. He’s an occupation now and I dread the idea of someone that evil near other people and in a position of power over others. I lose sleep over it. I wish I could get back the gardai file and insist that yes it was that bad, yes he is violent. I could stay at my own home for two years. I lost several stone with fear and worry. But I finished my exams, I finished my degree, went on to further study and even found who true friends are.

High Priest, You are not my superior Nor would I say equal The darkness overtook you? Abdication of responsibility - not good enough "Call to my house" You opened the door to naivety and trust Vulnerability at the worst You - only lust. In this now New Earth With the light streaming in I see your cowardice, your sin You took the phone off the hook Now, two decades later, to be disturbed The light won't let the dirt hide any longer Now I am stronger. I forgive you to set myself free You have played your part I am at peace, in my power and to reiterate, free.

Hello, My name is Name & I would like to share one of my poems to (hopefully) be read at Event 😊 This poem is called "He Didn't Hit Me" and it is based on my own personal experience with an abusive relationship. I hope that anyone reading this poem & it resonates with them will take comfort in knowing that they are not alone ❤️ He Didn't Hit Me He didn't hit me, but his words cut like a knife, He didn't hit me, but he upended my life. He didn't hit me, but he made false accusations, He didn't hit me, but he had unreasonable expectations. He didn't hit me, but destroyed my hopes & dreams, He didn't hit me but ripped my confidence at the seams. He didn't hit me, but I always had to take the blame, For his shortcomings, moods & his manipulative game. Abuse isn't just physical, this I know to be true, Gaslighting & manipulation are powerful tools, Knowing I deserve better, I am finally free, For I am much more than what he tried to make of me.

I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

I didn't realise I had experienced Sexual violence until I was in a women's refuge. It was when they were going through my experiences and fully explained the sexual abuse that I realised. I was often coerced into sex and one time after a night out I woke up to him on top of me, I was frozen and couldn't move. This was my husband, I trusted him.

I had a tough year, I had lost a parent, I had been cheated on, I had to end a very good friendship. That summer I was going to have a good time, and enjoy being young. After work one day, I sprung up the idea to go on a night out with my cousin who had a similar year to mine. We went out for drinks, the two of us going through the same motions of a night out, batting off creeps at the bar, dancing, having a good time. We met with one of her old school friends and his friend, and I took a liking to the friend. We all piled up in a taxi and went back to their place. We all had a couple more drinks, and my cousin and her school friend went upstairs, leaving me with the other friend. One thing lead to another and we went upstairs. Through the motions there were things that didn't feel right, and I tried to tell him to stop, that I was uncomfortable, that I didn't want to do that, but he didn't listen, he just kept going. When finally, it was over and I just felt frozen in time, more concerned for my cousin in the next room, and not about myself, being in a scary position. My phone had died and nobody had a charger for it, so I had to beg the guy who had just assaulted me to order a taxi, because I didn't know what part of town I was in at the time, but all I knew was that I had to get home, and fast. All I remember was my cousin getting annoyed at me for leaving, but I didn't care, I wanted to get home, I wanted to be safe. I remember the taxi driver, it was a woman who told me about her son living in locationand how humid it was that time of year. It mightn't have been much, but it was comforting in that moment. I remember the streetlights reflecting on the rows of houses in that suburb, which still haunt me any time I pass through that area, sending a shiver down my spine. She pulled up to my house, the sun was starting to come up, my dad left the porch light on. I undressed and took a shower. Still not processing what had happened, I wrote in my journal and tried to pass it off as a silly dating fail, but knowing at the back of my mind it wasn't okay. I couldn't sleep so I read a book and the following day, took my younger sibling out into town to get school supplies for the new year. Months passed, and I tried to tell a friend about what happened to me, but all they could say to me was: "Well, what do you expect, that's what happens when you hook up with random people" and I retreated into myself. After that point, I went a long time without telling people what happened until I was visiting another friend in a different city and I decided to go on a date with someone I matched with on an app. As I was about to board the metro to get to the date, I froze up, I panicked, I started to cry. My friend immediately asked what happened, if I was okay, and was there anything she could do to help. I couldn't say it was nothing, because it wasn't nothing. It was something that shook me to my core, made me think I was in the wrong for enjoying my sexuality. I didn't go on the date, but what I did do was tell my friend what had happened, and instead of being met with judgement, I was met with kindness, compassion, and love. We left the train station, picked up bits for a self-care night, and I was allowed to be myself in a space where I was believed and listened to. It took me a good while to feel comfortable in myself, how I looked, how I expressed myself, how I even was in relationships. If it weren't for the friend who made sure I was okay and I was safe, I mightn't be sharing my story right now. There are still times when I pass through that same neighborhood, hear that person's name, or even go pass the bar we met at, and a cold wave passes through me, but I'm proud of the work I have put in to not let it ruin my day, get me down, or define me.

They planned it, they watched it, they laughed about it, they joked about it and then they blamed me. Ridiculed me. Sang songs every day at work about raping me. Gaslit me insofar as I believed it wasn't real. It wasn't serious. It was not rape. But it was. They still protect him even though he's behind bars. I see them around town but they saw me deeper than I'll never know. They know things about my body, that night, my most vulnerable state, my unconscious state that I don’t remember. They know more of their first plan to have me raped which failed because I couldn't ‘be there’. They still think I didn't find out. But I did. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, to wake up everyday knowing that people planned your rape TWICE and they just walk around like nothing happened. What type of people live in this same town as me can POSTPONE a rape because I was going to be studying for my leaving cert that night? Who could do that? They can. They are guilty too. I made sure to tell them. There wasn't enough evidence to prosecute them for aiding a rape. But they have blood on their hands. People know who they really are! But I didn't have to tell them. Because they know what they did. They saw me deeper. But we all know them better now.