Murky Halloween

As a freshman in college, I had never been to high school, and therefore, really had little to no social life experience. I associated with adults primarily and didn't know how to interact with kids my own age (17). I had never really had any experiences with alcohol before and didn't really know what it would do to me.

The Halloween of my freshman year, my initial plans were just to stay in my dorm and binge eat the bag of candy I'd purchased. I was walking in the doors of my building when I ran into a girl that I had met in London over the summer and she invited me to come to the Halloween Parade with them in the West Village. I dressed up in a red lace dress and purchased some devil horns and a boa and went as "the devil" for Halloween. I remember going up to their room on the tenth floor, I believe. We joined a group of guys who were playing video games and chilling out in a very "college" kind of way. The group of people I was hanging out with were all primarily British students that had come to New York. This is important to note, since they had been legally allowed to drink in high school and had far more experience.

They invited me to play a drinking game with them while a bottle of lemonade and vodka was passed around the room. I sipped on it all night. I mean, it's lemonade right?

We sat down together and started playing a drinking game that involved flipping cups on a table, and to say I was bad at this game would be the understatement of the year. I should clairfy that we didn't play this drinking game with beer; we played with the lemonade vodka. I had to take a shot every time. Eventually it became pathetic how bad I was at the game and other people started taking my shots.

The next thing I remember is puking in my mouth on the floor of some other dorm room. It's dark and I'm cold and all I can smell is my own vomit. There's a boy on top of me trying to get under my dress. I feel paralyzed. I can't move or even breathe and I think he's trying to have sex with me. More like, he was about to rape me. I remember getting scareder. I remember other people in the room watching this happen to me. I know we weren't alone. Then, I remember someone walking in and throwing the guy off of me, picking me up, and laying me in a bed. This guy that walked in by chance saved me from what would have been just another college rape.

What makes a guy think that it's okay to rape a passed out girl who had a few too many? What makes it her fault in not only their eyes but the eyes of the world?

The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy who had almost raped me almost went livid about the fact I'd gotten puke on his rug and DEMANDED that I replace his seemingly $400 rug immediately. I wasn't about to pay $400 for the time I was almost raped. Luckily his roommate intervened, the guy who had saved me at the time, and he backed off about the rug. There was never an apology, only hate and shame.