Ever since a young age, we’ve always been taught that “no means no,” and I think this is a pretty clear statement to understand. We know that there’s a wrongdoing when we’re physically, sexually or emotionally harming someone when they’re making it clear—especially by saying no or fighting back. But what happens when someone didn’t say yes but they didn’t say no either? Does that still count?

Of course it does. And this is why so many cases of sexual abuse go unreported and unnoticed. Victims are blaming themselves for not saying anything against the predator and blaming themselves because they didn’t fight their predator off. But the bottom line is, if there isn’t consent, if there is any doubt in your mind that someone isn’t comfortable in the given situation, then it’s wrong.

When I spread the word about my writing an article on sexual abuse, a few individuals came forward and wanted to share their stories, anonymously. Here they are.

Sara’s Story*

It was Halloweekend. A lot of us know this as a huge weekend that gives girls an excuse to dress slutty without judgement, (as if,) and an excuse to binge drink the entire weekend and post ridiculous pictures to Instagram—and we’re all guilty of this, come on.

I was on my way to a party with my roommates, we all had our cutest costumes on, our best makeup done and the tequila was definitely flowing. As we approached the party, we could tell it was going to be an insane night—“one for the books” we had said. Little did I know, it would be a night that would haunt me for the rest of my life—and not in the Halloween ghosts and creepy clown kind of way.

This guy and I had been flirting with our eyes the entire night. I’ll never forget it, he was dressed as Woody the cowboy. We would talk to our friends but constantly lock eyes. After my liquid courage started to set in, I approached him. We flirted and talked all night. He invited me up to his room and without thinking what his intentions were—I was a freshman and also a virgin, I obliged. He was also on the football team and well known around campus, I felt lucky to have his attention and all the girls let me know it too.

The smell of cheap cologne and stale Budweiser smacked me in the face as soon as I stumbled into his room. Immediately, he took me to his bed and we continued to make out. He wasted no time and soon my pants and his pants were off. I was so drunk I could barely keep my eyes open anymore. I remember nodding in and out of us kissing.

The next thing I recall was coming to with him on top of me and inside me. I remember my stomach dropping and thinking to myself, that this was how I would lose my virginity… asleep and unconscious. I had always dreamed that I would lose it to someone special, someone who loved me and someone who cared. I had imagined up a fantasy where the guy I would lose my virginity with actually gave a damn about me.

I woke up with my pants wrapped around my ankles, shoes still on, and an extreme shooting pain in between my legs. I sprung out of his bed frantically, looking back on his bloody sheets, marked with memories I would never forget and he would probably just wash away.

Thankfully, he was nowhere to be found. I pulled my pants up, gathered my things and checked my phone—which was filled with desperate text messages from my friends wondering where I was and if I was okay. I quickly answered them and told them I was okay.

As I was about to make my first walk of shame, he came back into the room with breakfast and orange juice and kissed me on the cheek, reassuring me that he had a great night with me. I was so sick to my stomach, I couldn’t eat his lousy breakfast and instead of drinking the juice, I fantasized about throwing it in his face instead.

He tried to justify what he had done, saying we were both drunk and that he was sure I enjoyed it. He told me how pretty he thought I was and how sexy I was last night, saying all his friends thought so too. I started to feel physically sick and ran to bathroom. He brought me home.

Embarrassed, I told all my roommates a lie about how special and magical it was losing my virginity to him. I started to believe my own lie, I had told it so much. Girls envied me being with him, they told me how lucky I was that he chose me. In reality, I had envied them for not having experienced such a terrible first time.

I felt attached to him, when he texted me, asked me on dates and called me, I always felt a nervous feeling in my stomach. He had been the only guy I had gone that far with, he had to be special, right?

So many countless nights of lying awake in bed, reliving the entire thing. I would wake up in the middle of night, having a nightmare about him on top of me, telling me that it was okay and that I liked it.

Eventually, he lost interest because of me being so distant and not wanting to have sex again. I felt heartbroken. Why was I so heartbroken about the boy who had taken advantage of me?

I could never go back and tell people the truth after I had just lied to them all about how “magical” losing my virginity was. I felt ashamed, I felt embarrassed, I felt used and I thought it was my fault because I never officially told him no.

Relationships were hard for me after, trust was almost impossible and sex was meaningless. I could never fully let my guard down with someone and I hated having sex at all. I turned to drugs and alcohol to try and drown his memory. He had graduated, but his memory still haunted me.

I’m a senior now and I finally came out and told my closest friends the truth. They knew I wasn’t the same but never understood why. I never pressed charges but sometimes I wish I had. I used to look at my reflection in the mirror and feel disgusted with myself, I felt so worthless.

Eventually, I came to realization that it wasn’t my fault. I never got the chance to consent—I was unconscious during the entire time. Maybe there wasn’t an actual struggle or “attack” but I definitely did not say yes either.

I got the therapy and support I needed and I’ve finally left that part of my life behind me. I can have healthy relationships now, I left the alcohol in the past and I’m an advocate for girls who’ve been sexually assaulted. I’m not only there for my friends who’ve experienced similar trauma, but I also give speeches and offer anonymous support groups for students who need the help.

Jade’s Story*

I had my first serious boyfriend in college. He was everything I ever imagined, he was my fairy tale, my Prince Charming—at first, but isn’t that how it always goes?

He had not only charmed me and my friends but even my family loved him. We did everything together, we were the picture perfect couple. People would always tell me how much they wished they had someone like him, we were “goals.” But little did they know, how much of a monster he could be.

He wasn’t the first guy I ever slept with but he was definitely the guy who changed the way I viewed sex. It all started after some Gatsby party we went to. We went back to his apartment and I remember barely making it up the stairs, I was hammered and so was he.

He wanted to have sex and I told him that I was way too exhausted and too drunk; that we could tomorrow instead. Instead of obliging, like he normally would, he became forceful. He got angry, he threw his keys and phone and jumped on top of me. At first, I thought he was kidding, he had never acted like that before.

He pulled down my skirt, I remember trying to kick him off, yelling to stop. Instead of being the sweet, understanding gentleman, I thought I was dating, he continued to force his way inside me, while I was beneath him struggling to get him off. He put his hand over my mouth to make me quiet down and I eventually just gave up because I couldn’t fight him off, he was a lot bigger than I was.

After he was finished with me, he pulled up my shirt and relieved himself on my stomach. He had never done that before, since we usually wore condoms. I felt disgusted, like I was just an object to him that he could dispose of whenever he was finished with.

I snatched my things and stormed out. He grabbed me and picked me up, throwing me back on his bed. In terror, I slapped him and started to cry. He hugged me while I sobbed and I eventually fell asleep. I remember waking up and thinking it was just a nightmare—but it wasn’t. There I lie, with my boyfriend, someone who I thought was amazing and perfect, but the reality was that he had just sexually assaulted me. I trusted him, I loved him. I was shocked and confused.

When he woke up, he acted like nothing had ever happened. I remember him moving my blonde hair from my eyes and telling me how beautiful I am. This made me cringe, his hands on my face made me sick and I left without saying anything. I can’t believe that once, this act of kindness would have made me weak in the knees but now I was only repulsed.

Still without saying a word, I laid in my bed and cried for the rest of the day. My roommates thought for sure we had broken up and they were sad for me but they let me have my space. Later that day, he came by with flowers saying he wanted to talk. He apologized over and over, he cried and begged on his knees for me to forgive him. Thinking I was in love and he had made a mistake, I took him back.

Worst decision of my life. It horrified me to think that I could be in love with my rapist.

This became a normality for us—he would get drunk and force himself on me. Sometimes he would even try to guilt me, saying that I’m his girlfriend, I should be giving him sex all the time. He was my first serious boyfriend, I thought he was right and that maybe I was just being a bitch. When things were good, they were good but he drank, he became a completely different person.

One day I couldn’t take it any longer and broke down and told one of my best friends. She immediately hugged me and told me it was okay. She reassured me that he was my boyfriend but I didn’t owe him anything—especially not my body. With her support, I finally decided to end things with him.

This didn’t go over too well, he started stalking me. Following me around on campus, waiting for me outside of class, watching me at the bars—he was always there. I was so afraid he was going to do something to me or to himself, I decided it was time to tell my parents. At first they couldn’t even believe it. Nobody could. He was an athlete, a Dean’s List student and well known and liked around the campus.

People started rumors that I had made it up as an excuse to break up with him and ruin his reputation so no one else would date him. People thought he was being “sweet” by waiting for me to get out of class, they felt sorry for him at the bars, watching me have fun without him.

Eventually, I had threatened to get a restraining order against him and he backed off since he was in school to someday open his own business—who wants to work for a rapist? I had promised him to not go to the cops as long as he left me alone and with resentment, he agreed.

I haven’t seen him in years but the look in his eyes when he was on top of me still sends a shiver down my spine. He’s reached out to me a few times but I can never bring myself to respond to his desperation. He says he’s changed but I know he never will. I find myself having a hard time trusting people and I’m often sabotaging my own happiness in relationships.

They say that time heals everything but sometimes I feel like my wounds from him will never completely heal. I felt responsible for the attacks because I didn’t get out after the first time but I thought he loved me. I let it go on for almost a year before I had enough. This lesson taught me that love should be selfless, love should be mutual and love should never bring you more pain than happiness.

I eventually stopped blaming myself but I wonder if the nightmares will ever stop. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fully trust and love someone again.

*Names have been changed due to confidentiality.

These are just examples of attacks on women but men and women can be victims of sexual assualt.

I’m sick of hearing victims blaming themselves because they flirted with their rapist at first or they dressed a certain way and that might mean that they were asking for it. So many cases go unreported, unsolved and unnoticed in sexual offense cases. We need to do something to let the victims know it’s not their fault and there is something they can do—other than blame themselves.

When I randomly asked 20 people, men and women, almost all of them admitted to having sex while under the influence. Half of the people interviewed also admitted to not having asked their sexual partner if “this was okay,” or if “they were sure,” they wanted to continue. And a shocking sixteen individuals admitted they felt they’ve been taken advantage of before. When I asked if they ever came forward and confronted the person or reported it, majority of them said no, because they didn’t want to “deal” with it or be accused of lying about it for attention.

These numbers are shocking and disturbing. Rape isn’t talked about much, unless it’s on TV, the news or in the movies. Why don’t we talk about these things? Why don’t we come forward and get justice for the wrong doing?

If you or a friend needs any help, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline, 1-800-656-4673. They’re available 24/7 to talk and offer any assistance needed. No one should feel embarrassed or be ashamed to be a victim. Take the stand and speak up about any incident that made you uncomfortable.