April, 2016: The Assault.

True Story

I knew that talking to him was a bad idea. So why did I do it? Was it for attention? Was it to be “Seen”? I’m still not sure, but what’s done is complete. He’s achieved his goal. I have to live with my reward.

I wanted to see him. So, I texted his phone and told him to come over. The first words out of his mouth were, “we gonna’ fool around, right?” I thought he was kidding, so I laughed. (My phone rang. It’s him. I answered.) 


“Are we gonna’ fool around?”


“Okay. Be there in 15 minutes.”

(The phone hangs up.)

I never intended for us to fool around. I told him that the day he came by my apartment the first time. I just wanted to see him. To talk and watch a movie. His motives were different. He called and said to open the door. I obey. Before he could get into the door, my arms wrapped around his neck. I missed him. His breath smelled of cigarettes. I never liked the odor, but on him it was nice. He grabbed my waist and proceeded to kiss me. I pushed him away (something I did very often). He asked me:

“You said we were going to fool around.”

“I know. I just wanted to see you.”

“I’m going to go home”

“No. Why can’t we talk? Let’s go in your house.”

“No. None is home. We can talk in the hallway.”

“I told you on the phone I wasn’t sittin’ in no fucking hallway on the hard ass stairs.”

He did say that. A month before this moment, he came over and we talked until 2 AM in my hallway. He intimidated and infatuated me at once. He was a bad boy; someone who has been in a lot of trouble, but his spirit seemed good. I gravitated towards him. He was my addiction. He was the same as me (or so I thought). 

After a few minutes of deliberation, I opened my house door.

“Na, it’s too late. I ain’t going in there.”

“Okay. Look, I’m sorry.”


“Do you like my dress?”


I walked over to him. I wanted to comfort him. For what, I don’t know. He was mad that I wasn’t willing to jump into bed with him. I should have let him leave when he wanted to. Instead, I moved closer to him. I stood my my tip toes, and kissed him gently on the lips (almost no contact). Immediately, the pit of my stomach ached. He quickly turned around so that he was facing my back. He turned me around and against the wall. He kissed my neck down to my chest. I found myself, in that instant, with my back toward his front. His hands quickly lifted my dress and slid into my panties. I pushed him off, and he ran out the door, slamming it behind him. I stood there, in shock to what just happened. 

I still blame myself for the assault. I invited him to my apartment. I provoked him. It was me. 


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