Author's note: This story is partially inspired by true events. Someone suggested writing about it to help me work through and overcome residual feelings and so on.
Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Rape
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they all belong to J.K. Rowling and the various people/ agencies she has sold the rights to.
Never in your life did you think this could or would happen to you. Every day you read about it, feeling sorry for whomever it happened to, shaking your head at the bad in the world, but never ever do you consider it could happen to you. Things like that, you think, only ever happens to others. Oh, how you were wrong, how you wish you could go back in time and warn yourself not to trust him, this boy who called himself your friend.
'I love you' you hear, you blink and stare up into the silver eyes looking down on you. Your brain is going at a billion miles an hour. He loves you, he said so. You tell him you love him too. You really do to, as much as you wish you didn't, but you need him. Without him you are nothing. He's hugging you, holding you close and you can't breathe, something about his is so captivating, you can't work out what though. It is the way he makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world for a moment, only to follow that up by tearing you apart or is it simply the way in which he looks so beautiful, so pure?
You were pure before you met him, had never so much as kissed another man. That changed quickly though, you hadn't had the choice really, only an illusion.
Of course he'd initially asked for consent, you didn't give it. You explained how you were brought up to save yourself till marriage, and how you actually wanted to, as sappy as it sounds. He laughed and called you a prude. You grinned at him ruefully. If only you had left then none of this would have happened, but in typical fashion you hadn't, only settled back down and go back to kissing. Somehow you end up topless, you're not overly pleased by this, but then again you feel like at the 'tender' age of 18, you can't really say no to a little light petting. He asks for sex again, you glare and laugh, saying you've already answered that. He grins and you resume your previous activity. Eventually he asks again and again, and again. He begs, saying being hard for too long hurts, that you're causing him pain, that you're too hot for him to resist. You feel bad so you compromise. You'll wank him off and he'll finger you. This is the beginning of the end. With his fingers inside you, he somehow manages to get on top of you and to lie between your legs. You already feel ashamed, you shouldn't be doing this, but you said you would, so you let him. He asks again, begging for you to let him put "only the tip" in. You try to grin this time, your alarm bells are ringing, you say no. He glares at you and grabs your wrists, pinning you to the bed. Now, he's grinding on you and whispering in your ear about how he knows you want him. Struggling isn't helping, his lithe body is pure muscle and even though you are strong, you aren't strong enough so you give up. You GIVE UP. You still, several years later don't forgive yourself. Suddenly, he's inside you, fucking you even though you said no. No, no, no, no, no, this shouldn't be happening to you, you always took pride in being strong, both physically and emotionally but right now, right now you feel weak, small, vulnerable.
He finishes inside you and pulls out, hold you close and whispering about how it wasn't that bad, about how you enjoyed it, about how you brought this on yourself. He calls you his good girl and falls asleep holding you close. You can't escape so you stay. You feel broken and used and dirty, so dirty. How will anyone ever see you the same anymore now that you've been raped. Tears leak out of the corners of your eyes and you get angry. So angry, because you hate him. You really do, but that little part of you now belongs to him. It's not like you can just take your virginity back is it. Eventually you cry yourself to sleep.
It's been a few months since that's happened, and you hate yourself more than you ever have. You kept going back to him, he was your only friend, a fact the revelled in telling you, without him you were nothing, so you stuck around. Sometimes he was loving, sometimes he was not, but you rationalise his behaviour, after all who has a perfect relationship? The rape doesn't stop there either, he takes pride it seems in making you cum against your will, as if he was in a fucking competition against you, a battle of mind versus body.
Eventually you have a mild pregnancy scare, these things happen, he makes you take the morning after pill and you lock yourself away for three weeks, claiming illness. No one comes to check on you safe him. After all, you're his good girl and he's the only one who cares about you. You know it's not true, but somehow you believe him. The others, your actual friends are several thousand miles away, leading their own lives, why would they care what dirty little you was up to? You start believing him in other aspects too, he tells you every time that you deserve this, that this is the only type of relationship you'll ever have. That this and he is the best you'll ever have. Deep down some little corner of your mind knows it's all bullshit, but you don't fight him, you nod and smile each time, accepting his words as gospel.
Eventually you both go home, Home home as opposed to Work home. You move back in with your parents and start seeing your old friends again. No one realises you've been sobbing yourself to sleep every night, you can't let them know, you have to be strong. What would they think if they knew you were used, dirty, pathetic, that even though he broke you, you can't stop thinking about him? Eventually they realise something is slightly off, but they don't ask you, you're the emotionally strong one, they assume you're fine. You lock all your hateful thoughts away, pretend he never happened, pretend it was all a bad dream and you're life moves on. It had to. There was no way you would have been able to tell your deeply religious parents about not being a virgin anymore, it would only disappoint them, and hurt them unnecessarily. You know Mother already worries too much about you, and what men can do to you. You remember that since you were tiny she would warn you about strangers, walking in the dark, dressing provocatively but not once, not once did she mention that you should beware of people you actually know and trust.
It's been a few years and you've come to live with it, you met new people and you've told a few about what happened to you, they keep telling you the same things, how it's not your fault (it is) and how you're not a victim (you can't help but think that surely the very definition of the word proves them wrong), you smile and say it's all good, everything is all good. You still think about him sometimes, when you're lying in the dark unable to sleep and you still see how he affected you every day and how he changed you, you no longer trust people quite as naively as you did and there are certain things you just can't do. But you'll get over them too, you know you will, after all you're the strong one and you won't let a measly little cunt like him ruin your life any more than he already has.
That resolution was all well and good, until you saw him again...
End note: This is thus far unedited and a rough draft, however I thought I'd better upload it before I lost the courage However I will be editing it at some point soon.
Lots of Love, Scarlett