*This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons and situations are purely coincidental. Sexual Assault is not something I condone or promote. If you or someone you know experienced sexual assault, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-4673, Available 24/7, Free & Confidential.

I was raped. There was no consent. At first, I thought it was my fault. After all, I’m the one who put myself in that situation. But then I realized that it wasn’t. The person who did it to me, I knew him. He was a friend, and I never thought in a million years that he’d do this shit to me. Each time we came across each other’s paths, he always flirted with me. But I always indicated that I’m not interested, and I was under the impression that he got the hint. And then, due to some accident of fate and my irresponsible behavior, he had the chance to do it while I was drunk out of my fucking mind. The first question I asked myself was, why? Just like seasons do, I need to move on from this terrible mindfuck. This chapter of my fucking life needs an ending so that I can begin a new one. So what do I do? Go on a fucking bender of course! Even for only a few hours, I’d like to forget that I got sexually assaulted.

The music coming from the sound system of the party bus was blaring. I found myself doing lines of cocaine with a bunch of fuckin tourists from Japan and Sweden. It was almost 7 AM. The whole party took place inside a big blue bus that looked like it’s out of commission from the exterior. But from the inside, it’s fucking legendary! Neon lights on the walls, print posters of films from the 80’s and 90’s plastered on the ceiling of the bus. And the fucking DJ, standing and spinning the records inside the narrow both in the middle of the floor. But the music was epic!! It was mostly pop songs remixed to house music. The new friends that I made offered me bumps of ketamine, but I politely declined. I was like fuck! I’m already on LSD and cocaine! There’s no way I’ll take more drugs given the dopamine level that I’m in. I wanted to go to the other side of the party bus, and look out the window if there’s any cops snooping around. When I looked to the corner of the bus, I saw Chance, the stripper who sexually assaulted me a few weeks ago. I was nervous as fuck. I held my head high and walked forward towards him.

“Oh hi!” I said.

“Hey you” he replied.

“You don’t remember what you did to me, do you?”

“I remember being–“

“You raped me!”

“Wow! OK, wait a minute! Don’t try to flip this into something else when you yourself enjoyed it! You’re lucky I never charged you for something that’s usually not free!”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s free or paid! How the fuck could you even do that to me?”

“You never said no and you never told me to stop!”

“That’s the fucking problem! You never asked me and just assumed that I wanted it! That’s fucked up!

“Look, I’m a stripper. I was only doing my job!”

“So fucking someone without consent is part of your job too?”

“I don’t know what else to say… I’m sorry” He said.

“Thank you, that’s all I needed to hear!” I said.

That whole conversation made me feel sick. I looked outside the window and noticed the bright sunlight, it’s time to fucking go. I stepped out of the fucking party bus and started walking on Wyckoff Avenue heading towards Myrtle Avenue.

While I was walking, I pondered within myself. Have I been wrong? Was it my fault? I felt confused. Seven minutes later, I realized that it’s never my fucking fault. A part of me was glad that I confronted the person who did it to me. This was my fucking closure.

THE END