The Amplify Project
April 20, 2017
Trigger Warning: Explicit descriptions of sexual assault and/or rape.
It was spring break at one of the most beautiful destinations in the world. Earlier in the day, I was on an ocean rafting tour with four of my friends where we snorkeled all day and had picnics on the beach. It was one of the best days of my life and I was in complete bliss.
Later that night, I met an older guy named Patrick at my hostel’s bar and discussed the lack of originality in our tattoos. Afterward, he took me to a nightclub, paid for my entrance and got me a gin and tonic. On the dance floor, he grabbed me from behind and popped a pill in my mouth. He called it Lacoste, a conspicuous drug I thought was the same as molly.
I swallowed it, thinking this would be the start of a fun night. I drank a little bit more and eventually felt a rush through my body that made me want to keep dancing.
Patrick kept trying to make out with me, but I consistently backed away from him. In the end, he told me to “f**k off” and hopped onto the next girl within in a two feet radius. I started to feel all these emotions, either from the pill or my anger towards Patrick and stormed out the backdoor of the club crying. It had just started to pour. Just my luck. I thought this night couldn’t get any worse as I speed-walked towards the direction of my hostel, sobbing and high.
Suddenly, I felt someone touch my shoulder.
I swiftly turned around as a stranger held his hands up in the air, as if to say he was harmless.
He told me, “I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”
I mumbled under my breath, “I’m fine.” I’m f**king high and hate guys.
But compassion reflected in his blue eyes. Or were they brown? He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I didn’t want to go back to an empty hostel and my friends were probably still out. I figured some company would probably calm me down. He seemed nice anyway so I nodded my head.
We went over to the closest shelter with a bench so we could sit down. We talked for about twenty minutes, sharing parts of our lives, as the rain pattered on the roof. He told me that he was going on thirty and freaked out over all his friends getting engaged. In return, I confided in him about how every guy I meet seemed to screw me over. He seemed to be a good listener and I just kept trusting him with more.
I could feel my jaw clenching as a side effect from the drugs, but my senses were fully stimulated. The drug Patrick had given me didn’t feel like molly. I didn’t feel happy; everything just felt more intense. All I wanted was to feel the warmth under the covers of my top bunk.
When the rain finally stopped I told him I was going to go over to pee in the bushes. I had my pants down my knees in a squat position and before I knew it he had came up behind me. He squeezed my ass and told me “You’re so sexy.” I immediately pulled my pants up as he pushed me against the trunk of the palm tree.
I asked him what was he doing as he tried to kiss me. I told him I had to go but he wouldn’t let go of me, following behind me with his hands on my waist, trying to convince me to go to the beach with him. It was 3:35 a.m.
I could feel him breathing down my neck, which only made me feel colder. I firmly told him I was not going to have sex with him because I don’t even know him. I wanted him to let go of me. But I also didn’t want to be alone.
He rushed me into the parking lot towards the beach, where we stopped in between two cars. I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him there and I tried convincing him we could go back to his hostel together instead. In my head, I thought maybe talking more would distract him and he would finally get the hint. But he just pressed me against the side of the hood, pulled down my pants and went inside me.
I didn’t know what to do. Everything felt intense. I looked around nervously to see if anyone could find us there. I was hoping someone was looking behind the dark windows above us. But no one came.
I told him to stop. I felt another stab of pain as he pushed himself inside of me again. I pushed him off, not able to take it. I told him I didn’t want any of this, put my pants back on and fled. I cried the whole way to my hostel, my body was shaking. At night, I tried to muffle my cries against my pillow so my friends wouldn’t hear me.
I didn’t even know his name.
This story was submitted anonymously by a survivor of sexual assault at Santa Clara through The Amplify Project. If you are interested in sharing your story, reach out to Emma Hyndman at firstname.lastname@example.org or visit amplifyproject. wordpress.com.