I have a story. Only one. I have plenty of them, ranging from almost comical to downright terrifying. But I’ll share this one, because its not the scariest nor is it the easiest one to tell.

I was 18 years old, it was the summer before my freshman year of college. I had just spent the last two years of high school in a serious relationship that caused me to miss out on a lot of the fun kids my age were getting into. I was single, going to college, and just started a job at this ritzy gym in my neighborhood. Yass, free gym membership!

At the gym, almost everyone I worked with was significantly older than me, at least 23-28 years old. One of the girls who I worked with was celebrating her birthday and invited me out with everyone; we’ll call her “Stacey.” I was SO down. I saw this as a way of getting to know my coworkers and finally getting out a little.

I thought I was sleeping over Stacey’s house and going out for her birthday. However, on the day of, Stacey said that we wouldn’t be sleeping at her house, but at her best friend’s house, “Matt.” Anyway, I drove the fifteen minutes to Matt’s house, parked my car, and we all took a car service to the city. The plan was to go Latin dancing, and afterwards we were all going to sleep over Matt’s house. I loved this plan because my mom could never sleep when I was out late, so if I knew it would be particularly late, I would usually opt to sleep at a friend’s, so she didn’t lose sleep waiting up for me.

Once we got to club in the city, the night took off. My fake ID worked, Stacey, her friend “Jennifer” and I danced the night away. The guys got a table and bottles and we were all drinking mixed drinks. I had only two, maybe three, but I did not have the same tolerance as the other girls, who were older and went out drinking all the time. I ended up in the bathroom, praying to the porcelain god. Stacey and Jennifer took turns looking after me and were so sweet about the whole thing. One of my coworkers, a big teddy bear named "Brad" (who sometimes trained Stacey and I after work) carried me out the club and to the waiting car.

When I drink too much, my body reacts in a (at least I think) unique way. I can be throwing up, blacked out, can’t open my eyes, but no matter my physical reaction, I stay conscious, aware and able to hear everything around me. During the car ride home, Stacey tried to make me feel better, and kept reminding me that once we got to Matt’s house she and I would sleep in his bed, and the guys in the living room, and I’d be all better. I was minutes away from a cozy bed. We got to the house, and Brad and Stacey tucked me in. Brad said he was leaving and he hoped I’d feel better, and Stacey told me she had to leave for a second, but she’d be right back. At the time, I didn’t know that she and Brad were secretly hooking up and were probably sneaking off to have birthday sex. I told them goodbye and okay and dozed off.

As I slept, I felt someone get into bed with me, and start rubbing my back. I assumed it was Stacey and didn’t react immediately. Then the person began to spoon with me and wrapped their arms around me. My mind became suddenly alert as I realized it was Matt. He started rubbing on my thighs and waist. I could barely move, so I kept my eyes closed and played like I was asleep. Maybe if I play asleep he’ll leave me alone. No. He kept rubbing my thighs and now my hips and waist. Instead his hands moved between my legs and began rubbing. I was terrified, I didn’t know what to do. I realized that if I didn’t do something, this guy was going to have his way with me, whether I was out cold or not. He moved his hand so he could run his finger under the waist band of my leggings. No more playing asleep.

I stirred quickly. “What the fuck, Matt?!” I yelled, as I pushed away from him and jumped out of the bed.

“Wait!” he said in a hushed voice, his parents obviously sleeping somewhere in the house, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, what the fuck in wrong with you?! I gotta go.” I grabbed my shoes, and my bag, and high-tailed it out of there, barefoot. Matt ran after me.

“Wait, no, don’t go! Please, I’m sorry, stay don’t go!”

I picked up the pace and ran to my car. Got inside and locked the door. Matt ran up to the car and banged on the window.

“Stop, please don’t go. Come back inside.”

“Get away from me! If you don’t leave me alone I swear to God I’ll call the police, leave me alone!” I yelled as a glanced at my phone that had 5% battery.

He finally gave up and went back inside. I started crying. I knew I couldn’t drive, I had just been throwing up all night and was probably still drunk. I looked at my phone again, 3%. How did that happen? I called Brad. Stacey wasn’t back yet, and he had just left. Maybe he wasn’t far. No answer. I called Stacey, no answer.

2%. Then my phone started ringing, it was Brad. I answered and, still crying, immediately starting bawling to him everything that had happened. He said, “Don’t worry, stay right there, don’t drive.” Silence. My phone died. I waited. He said stay here, he’ll be here soon. After a few minutes passed I looked up and saw Matt walking towards the car. I looked around, still no sign of Brad.

“Eveni...”

I screeched off and stopped the car around the corner. I put my address into my GPS and drove home. Once I got home, I realized my dad had just changed the front door and (therefore) lock, and I didn’t get a new key because they weren’t expecting me home. I walked to the side of my house and knocked on my twin brother’s bedroom window. Hopefully he was home and would wake up. Nothing. Oh my GOD he sleeps like a rock. I knocked again.

Suddenly I see his face in the window, “Eveni! What are you doing? Oh my god, I thought you were a robber or something.”

“Robbers knock? I don’t have my key, let me in please?”

“Why are you home right now?”

“Can you just stop asking me questions and open the door?” My whole back was sprayed with cold water. The sprinklers had just come on. We both started laughing.

I ran to the sliding door in the back. My brother let me in, us both still snickering.

“So, what happened? Did you drive home like this?”

“Did you?”

We both looked up, it was my mom and dad and the top of the stairs. My dad was FURIOUS.

“You’ve been drinking?! And you drove home like this?!”

“I had to! I didn’t want to, I normally wouldn’t but I had to! Please.”

“Why did you HAVE to??”

I looked at my mom. She locked eyes with me and could tell there was a good reason. I started bawling. My brother looked at me, horrified. I ran upstairs, and my mom followed. In my room, I did my best to explain to her what happened, through tears. She got paranoid and started to think that Stacey had set me up and “given” me to Matt. She told me I can’t ever trust the girl. I thought she was reaching, but I definitely wanted to talk to Stacey soon and tell her the truth about who her friend is.

The next day at work, I don’t remember if I brought it up to Stacey myself, or if she did, but we did talk about the night. It was a long time ago, so I don’t remember if she asked why I left, or if I just flat out told her, but I told her what Matt tried to do to me, and how my night ended. She told me she felt so sorry I was so upset, but that I must have misunderstood. Matt had been her friend for a while now and he would never do something like that. But he did. I was horrified. She told me he feels so bad and wants to talk to me. I told her I had nothing to say to him, but what does he feel so bad for if he didn’t do anything wrong. She said he felt bad that there was a misunderstanding. I looked at her, really looked at her.

I was trying to decide if she really honestly believed him, or if it was just easier for her to keep her idea of him and life as is and convince herself I didn’t know what I was talking about, or even worse, I was lying. I told her I didn’t understand how she can stay being friends with him, knowing what he had done and what kind of guy he was. She said she doesn’t believe he’s that kind of guy.

“So, you’re saying I’m lying?”

“No, I’m saying you were drunk, you didn’t know what was going on.”

“Says the person who wasn’t there.”

She got quiet, tense. I saw a moment where the confidence in her eyes faltered. In that moment I don’t remember who had the last word, or what was said. I do remember that I gave up a little inside. This isn’t the first incident like this that I had ever experienced, but it was the first time where I had the strength to stand up for myself, both in that moment, and in not keeping his secret.

The whole experience should have been traumatizing but it wasn’t, because I came out unscathed. But two things made this experience sad for me. One, that although I had the strength to speak up and say what he did to me, what he attempted to do to me, nothing changed. With the exception of one or two people, all the coworkers kept hanging out with him, and kept up the belief (even if they never said it) that he was a good guy. But if he was a good guy, I was either a liar or delusional. It pained me to be forced into social situations with him a couple more times, and for him to sheepishly smile at me half apologetic, half arrogant. And two, the fact that Stacey, a fellow woman, was the one who denied what I said the most strongly. When I told Brad, he was surprised, but he took my word for it and was supportive. How could this person, a woman, have less empathy and understanding than a man? Why was she the one with all the excuses, vouching for her friend, saying “he could never.” But he did.

That just goes to show you. Whether you have the nerve to defend yourself in those moments, or not, whether you have the strength of heart to stand up for yourself and call out the actions, it doesn’t matter. And this is why victims don't tell their story for decades. Because people would rather be in ignorant bliss, telling themselves “he could never.”

But he DID.