Melissa Sursanure
The Rape, The Aftermath, & Some Advice

I begged, I pleaded, I screamed, but to no avail. All of my requests fell on deaf ears. I hope that is something you never experience. As he ripped off my clothes and held me down on a couch, he assured me that everything would be all right. He got all of my clothing off in a matter of seconds by ripping and jerking. I was actually cut in multiple places when he pulled off my bra, and that is when I really decided to take action.

Before I could tell him I wanted him to stop, he feverishly thrust himself inside me. The pain was incredibly sobering, and I cried out, “No! No! Stop!” I had never been penetrated before; I had never had sex. His only concern was keeping his hand over my mouth while trying to pump me harder, pump me faster. I was having trouble breathing. Eventually I couldn’t fight him anymore. I did not want to fight him anymore. I just wanted the whole ordeal to be over. My entire body, my entire being, went completely numb, and I was staring into blackness with open eyes feeling invisible.

He raped me or he hurt me is a casual way of putting it—he fucked me, and there was nothing I could do except shut down. I know it’s not an excuse, but it is the truth. I was a little drunk, and he was much stronger. That night, I saw something in his pupils I have never seen before, and I could tell he had no conscience. He was capable of going to a very dark place where he hears no reason. I was afraid he might even hurt me more.

When he was tired; when he was finished with me; he gently kissed me on the forehead, smacked my ass, pulled up his pants, walked into my kitchen opening the refrigerator getting himself a beer for the road, smiled, and left. He left me naked, shaking, and alone. I lied in a pool of blood, sweat, and God knows what else for hours, unable to move, violated in my own space. I know I will ever be the same, but I’m better for it.

He took something away from me that I can never get back, and I really can’t explain to you what he took. If it were only my virginity, I’m sure I would have been able to bounce back by now. I should have never invited him back to my apartment for dinner—especially when my roommates weren’t home, but that was the whole point. I cooked a romantic dinner—it’s all my fault! How was I supposed to know? How could I know?

He was sooo nice. “Who are you talking about Melissa?” I think you know him, John Cazzogratz. Right, the president of Sigma Chi; but when this happened to me he wasn’t president. I know I don’t even need to say this, but I have never discussed this incident before. No one needs to know about it. I am making my peace with the entire thing, and now am in the process of healing. I’ve seen him since. I actually had relationships with a few of his brothers in Sigma Chi. Everything is cool now, and it would really upset me if anyone else was to know of this. I have never been able to talk about this before, so please, this conversation goes no further. I knew I could count on you.

Anyway he said, “I like you,” “I care about you,” “I’m falling in love with you,” I feel completely comfortable with you,” “I trust you,” “You are everything I ever hoped for in a woman,”—and I bought all this shit. I was a freshman, and in high school I was a geek. He’s a big man on campus, he’s gorgeous, and he was paying attention to me—I didn’t question anything. He was fattening me up before the kill; he was manipulating me and I didn’t even feel his hands on my shoulders. I suppose that is why he is so legendary.

Thinking about it again, he catered to my every need, just as he caters to all naive idealistic girls needs. I have seen him work since. And as soon as I deactivated my guard, he knew, and I saw another very real side of him—the monster. I’m a fool. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Why did I trust people; why did I assume that everyone is warm hearted? Men are out to conquer; that is why you must conquer them.

I don’t have a scar on my body, not even a scratch—but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. That doesn’t mean that for a long time I didn’t think about it every second of everyday. That doesn’t mean I’m one-hundred percent better. I may look all right, but inside my body is crying out. I am still in pain form this experience. I haven’t been able to eat anything other than bland foods like bread, salads, and yogurt now for over a year.

I’m not a health nut like everyone thinks—it’s just that anything I put inside my body food wise makes me nauseous. Did you know that? See, even though we are sisters, you don’t know everything about me. I’m not only your bigger cooler frat sister, I’m telling you this because it can help you. At least now, every time I ingest something I don’t have to fight myself from throwing it up. I’ve gotten very good at that—I usually never throw up anymore; but for me being raped affected my eating habits mostly.

“Everything happens for a reason.” Who ever came up with that brilliant phrase was a potato head. There is no reason why this should have happened to me. I don’t know what I’m supposed to learn from this. I’ve always tried to find something positive in every tragedy, but there is noting positive about this. I know I could have gotten a disease, or become pregnant. I am so ashamed and humiliated I can’t even walk into a testing facility, but I guess I’m going to have to go sooner or later just to be sure.

Well, maybe the only positive thing is that I can help others. My grandfather told me we are related to Chaucer, and I’ve always enjoyed his writings. So in the spirit of Chaucer, and don’t think I’m crazy because I always say this to myself, ‘I swear by arms, by blood, and by bones that I will never allow myself to become vulnerable again.’

It took a year and a half of screwing up to come to the conclusion that I will never let my guard down. I can never let my guard down—not for anyone. I’ll also never go out with another frat boy again; not that they are all bad, just because from my experience most of them are. I’ve had enough sex, I’ve been with enough guys, and a year and a half of that shit is enough for me. I don’t want any type of relationship other than a meaningless one.

I’m telling you this not only because you are my little sister, but because you are a lot like me when I first arrived here. I don’t want what happened to me, to happen anyone—especially you. Make sure when you go out, if you want to screw a guy and have fun, do that. I would never tell you not to; but try never to allow yourself to be put in a situation where you can be taken advantage of—it just isn’t worth it. Have you had sex yet? I think you should have your first sexual experience with a nice guy—maybe a good friend, just so you can ease yourself into everything slowly. It’s just food for thought.