its just a story about a girl....

Someone once told me thats there are 3 sides to every story-you side, their side, and the truth.

My truth isnt the same as his.

He said he didnt.

I say he did.

so whats the third side?

what if noone beleives me again?

"can you describe how the alleged abuse took place?"

I was on my own, and then he was there.\he laughed, smiled, pushed my hair out of my face.I couldnt have a fringe for years afterwards.Then he pushed me hard against the wall, my head hit it hard-ive still got the scar, a neat line.i tried to struggkle away, i didnt know what was going on, where is was really, even.My head hurt, his hands were in places they shouldnt have been-he was pulling my dress up, and it ripped-i heard it rip.i felt his hand pull at my pants, and i screamed and he hit my hard in the face.my nose bled, and he hit me again.i yelled so loud. get off me.\no.NO.you cant.NO NO NO.he laughed, and held me against the wall with his body weight.he unbuckled his belt, i felt the cool metal buckle hit my leg.NO.nonono.he hit me again.told me i wasa stupid little girl.that i shouldnt have flirted, shouldnt have played hard to get.that it was my fault.he was just getting what he deserved from me. He pulled my pants down around my knees.forced my legs apart, i felt his rough hands scratching my skin, his breath in my ear.his laugh.i tried to pull away one more time, but as i moved, he forced himself into me.it hurt.HURT.nononoNO.i felt like i was being torn in two.he shuddered, pulled away from me, told me i was a silly little slut, and walked away, went back into the house.

I made the dress i was wearing to that party.It was fab, one of the best i ever made.Ive never made anything like it since, ever.No similar fabrics, no similar pattern/shape. I changed overnight from who i was to someone else.

"what happened after that"

I was bleeding.I has cuts on my face, and the back of my head.i felt dizzy and sick, and didnt really know what was going on-turned out later that id been spiked with \LSD.i wanted to go home, but i couldnt figure out which was it was.i felt wobbly, and i remenber i fell. I'm not sure how long it was before my frined Rich found me laying on the side of the road, on the wrong side of town.A while i guess, becuase he had been wondering where i was for hours.At first he thought i was just drunk-like off my skull drunk, and had fallen over, so he giggled a bit, tipsy himself and teased meThen he saw the state of my face.black eye, bloody nose.he thought i must have fallen forwards.he wanted to take me to the hospital.I was crying then, hard.Then he went from jokey to concern in a second flat, picked me up, and carried me until he found a cab, stopping to let me throw up every so often.we went to the hospital.They thought i was drunk and had fallen. Rich told them he thought i might have been spiked, and that i kept saying a guys name, and 'no, but he did it'., over and over.I dont remember this.But Rich has to give evidence too. They took blood from me-eventually-stitched my head up.

i tried to tell them about the guy.but the words couldnt come out.they just wouldnt come out.so i just cried.and they thought i just needed to sober up.they talked a lot about how they wasted so much time on drunk students.

They told rich to take me home.he looked worried.

and then i stopped talking.

"did you tell anyone about the abuse"
yes.

"who?"

I went to the welfare officer at uni about 2 weeks afterwards.she called my tutor.i was told 'lots of girls get drunk, have sex and regret it.thats no reason to to cry rape.

so i stopped talking again.

2 days after it happened, i went to the reception at uni to go to the cashpoint.I needed wine, and i needed lots of it. I saw him coming down the corrider and i froze.couldnt walk-couldnt move.I needed to get away, but i couldnt.He came over, he said hello.

like it never happened.then he whispered in my ear that it would have been a lot easier if i hadnt put up a fight.the porter at the desk looked around at me, cos i made some sort of weird noise.

I went to the campus shop.i bought shittons of drink, and then i didnt leave my room for a week.Funny thing is, i dont think i even drank any of it. it syated in my room, looking at me in an accussing kind of way until i packed up to leave. That dress.Iy layed in the bottom of my wardrobe, hidden under a jumble of everything.i couldnt look at it.buit i couldnt throw it away.if id thrwon it away-well it wouldnt have happened.and as much as i needed that to be the case-it DID happen. and it being there reminded me why i was in pieces.

I think i need therapy. I was in Liverpool with a friend recently, and we went back to halls to pick up all the things i left behind years ago-we were on a roadtrip looking at uni up north for her, and i figured i should bite the bullet. and in the boxes and boxes of things they had stored for me-i left via hospital in a hurry(i dont think they expected to store it all for 5 years) i saw that dress poking out of a corner.i could see the tear in the hem, the ragged strap.

and then i was right back there.

Its not just a story.Its my story.