(the names of the individuals mentioned in this article have been changed for their own protection.)

They Don’t Know…

Staring at my computer as I write yet another response paper for my English class, I find myself sitting in the middle of my suite. Surrounded by the presence of my hyper masculine (and quite dim witted) suitemates. I sit on the couch and mind my own business as they proceed with blaring songs off the most recent top one hounded hits list. Such as that pointless song Broccoli for what seems to be the ten thousandth time. They proceed to play Call Of Duty whilst wrestling with one another in order to assert their physical dominance. I think nothing of it. That is, until one of them decides to attempt to shove a Beats pill speaker into the rectum of his companion, at which the other decides that it would be comical to shout rape at the top of his lungs for several minutes. After which, everyone laughs. Everyone except me. While they proceed to laugh at the comical situation that we have all witnessed, I sit in the corner staring blankly at my computer as unwanted flashbacks fill my head, and I try to fight the impending anxiety attack.

I exit the common room to our balcony, as I sit there alone crouched in the corner. A tear rolls down my cheek. “It’s been years” I tell myself. “Just forget about it”. But I can’t, as hard as I try to wipe this unwanted memory from my mind I just can’t shake it. The pieces of shit (I would use a better word, but I don’t think such a word exist in the English vernacular to accurately describe their vileness) in the other room I tell myself they don’t even know what it’s like to be the victim of sexual assault. To live for years with this anger built up inside of you.To them it’s just a joke. They don’t know what it’s like to be betrayed and hurt by someone who told you they were your friend, someone you honestly thought you could trust. They don’t know how it feels to be screaming for help, praying that someone can hear you, only to have your head shoved into a pillow by an upperclassman stating that you’re a faggot because you’re trying to fight it. Those assholes, they don’t know what it feels like to lay naked on the floor, trying to fight the emotional hell inside of you, struggling for air. Trying to pick yourself up. Questioning why you’re still breathing, yet you feel so dead inside. They don’t know what it’s like to have to walk out of a party wearing only a blanket around you. The feeling of all those judgmental eyes as you walk out the door. They don’t know the feeling of having to walk three miles in the dead of winter, the icy touch of the snow on your bare foot. They don’t know the humiliation of walking into school the following Monday, having everyone stare at you as you pass by their lockers. Seeing them snicker and jeer at the very sight of you. They don’t know what it’s like to go years hating yourself. To lay awake at night because you don’t want to fall asleep, because the nightmares are too realistic. They don’t know what it’s like to have to hide this disgusting secret from your parents. Because you can’t bear to see the look on your mothers face. The pain in her eyes. They can’t understand, because they haven’t spent a day in your shoes.

Twenty minutes later I walk back into my suite, collect myself, and calmly continue with the paper I had been writing. Surrounded by these creations. They continue on with their lives like nothing ever happened, whilst I sit in the corner and try to fight back the pain in my eyes. Only for them to once again make a comical joke about sexual assault. They all begin to laugh again. I can’t take it anymore. I stand up and call them out on their disgusting gag. “That’s not funny Luke!” I say “Sexual assault is a serious issue that shouldn’t be taken lightly”. “Dude chill” he responds, “You’re taking this too seriously. Besides you saw Kevin shove that thing up my ass, so that’s technically anal rape…”. “No it’s not!” I yell. “Rape is being held down on a bed against your will, unable to break free no matter how hard you fight back. Rape is having your face shoved into a pillow and being told to quit being a pussy and you’re not a real man for not enjoying it. Rape is being told that you should enjoy it, but the only thing that you’re feeling is pain! Rape is having your pride, your self-esteem, your ability to see the good in other people, Rape is having your will to live stripped from you in an instant of sheer terror that you are forced to relive every fucking day for the rest of your god damn life! That’s what rape is Luke. Not having some stupid speaker touch your butt.” They all stare at me in silence. The only sound in the room my deep breaths. Luke looks up to me blankly, his jaw unhinged, unable to even form a sentence. Just a loss for words. “Is your joke still funny Luke?” I say, “Because I can tell you right now, that I’m definitely not laughing.”.