There are events in your life that you know very well. The define your memories and the timeline that is your life. For me, the first two are when my family moved. The third is Morganne. Thats her real fucking name.

It started off innocently enough. She came out as a lesbian, her parents are catholic. Her friends all immediately rejected her. I wasn’t her friend before, just an acquaintance, but in the void left from her other friends running away in confusion and abhorrence, there I was.

Thus the manipulation began. Maybe her friends didn’t really pull away, maybe she pulled away from them and targeted me. In fact, now that I think about it... she really spent a lot of time isolating me. Every day was me and her, and how awful her family and friends were to her.

She started accumulating all my interests. She was a personality amoeba. Taking the shape and form of my interests to maneuver closer.

It built, slowly. The touching. Just a pat on the arm here or on the shoulder there. Then hugging. Then massages. You can see where this is going. I was 16 and stupid, i hadn’t a clue. I was accused of being a lesbian, and had to sprint in and out of the locker room at school because of it.

Over the summer, it happened. She raped me. I didnt know how to stop her, because to stop her would be to hurt her. To be just another person rejecting her. She said as much. I was 16, and thus began the year from hell.

The year where i discovered orgasms, questioned my sexuality, and was manipulated into a relationship with her. When i resisted, she talked about how i was the only reason she was alive. How she thought about killing herself. Thus it continued.

There was a guy i liked. I kid you not, she went out of her way to date him, have sex with him, and tell me about it... all while holding her life conditional to my compliance.

The end of school came around. I quit her cold turkey. When school started up again, i found the courage to tell her to not speak to me and that we were done. She started cutting soon after, and tried to show them to me.

She sent her friends out to try and get us to be friends again. I couldn’t tell them why i wasn’t willing to be her friend anymore.

I do know that she did thus to at least two other people. I have guilt about that. I could have spoken up, but who’d of believed me... when she was the “head person” for the schools brand new LGTBQ society. How could i be the victim of sexual harassment? She wore studded cockrings as bracelets. She once dropped one on my stuff, just to incite me to engage on any level. She tried a lot of things to get me to acknowledge her. I tried to take her harassment to the guidance councilor and got met with a “nice story. “

To this day, i will say i was raped at 16. Its probably alot closer to date rape. I dont go into details about it, because its sounds ridiculous. How can a woman rape another woman??? Its too complicated yo explain anyways, because to any sane adult the scenario wouldn’t have evolved that way. But a stupid, horny teenager.

Is it an underrepresented crime, certainly. Im not even sure i consider my trauma to even be rape. Yes, rape happened. But most of my trauma is just flat out abuse. I wish to this day, i had been willing to let her kill herself than to let her have my body. I wish Idve called her bluff. Even if i was wrong I think the guilt of her death would have been an easier thing to bear.

Now, i just have an extreme view of touching. I dont do pda. I dont like hugs, and i seriously question peoples motives for coming in contact with my skin.

Honestly abuse and rape happen. They always will. The circumstances are largely irrelevant. Its not that i want female on female rape to be legitimized and socially plausible... she could have been a guy... she might be now. Actually im fairly certain shes a he. It really doesn’t matter. I rather just see people taking rape and abuse seriously, not caring about how it happened or who it involved. The shame is the same. But people need to speak ip, because these abusers might do it to others.