To The Boy That Drugged Me

I'm Not Stronger Or Braver Because I Survived Being Roofied, I'm Missing A Part Of Me

I got roofied at a party. This is my story.


To The Boy That Drugged Me,

You didn't know me; I didn't know you. You didn't even want to know me, but you wanted to have me. You wanted me under your control to do God knows, but you didn't get that. I don't get the privilege to know what happened that night, but I was unlucky enough to face the consequences that have followed me for the following months, years, lifetime.

I went to a concert that night—innocent fun. My new coworkers wanted to go to a party after that, and I was so excited to already be accepted into this new group. So I went along with no intentions of getting drunk or even drinking because I was a cautious person, and I didn't want to be incapacitated if anything were to happen to my new friends. But I must have let my guard down and taken a cup that you handed me, something so unlike me to do. But I did.

The next thing I knew, I woke up on the floor of my new coworker's room with bloody hands and knees, ripped shoes, no keys and a dead phone. I was in physical pain; every inch of me burned and felt heavy. My first reaction was to run, I needed to run home. I couldn't call for help or even get in my own room. I was panicking. What happened to me?

I cried sitting outside the gate to my dorms and someone let me in. I tried to reflect on my night but it was black and empty. There was no memory of anything past a definable point. But why?

The first thing I did when I got in was plug my phone in to check for any clues. I had called my brother numerous times at some point, another thing that was so unlike me. I think it was a call for help. My brother was my protector, and I needed his help. I went to undress and found bruises and scratches up my arms and ribs as if someone had been trying to grab me or pull me away. My heart sank.

You don't know the repercussions I've had to face since that night. The guilt, the blame, the shame for going to that party, for not even knowing who you were or what happened. Later when I went to tell my new friends what happened that night, none of them believed me. They said I was being dramatic over the situation but didn't feel the need to keep an eye on me that night so they really had no clue. I had to tell myself that this wasn't supposed to happen to me, that it was intended for someone else. I somehow had just taken the tampered drink instead. Maybe I had saved a girl from something worse. But was there something worse that happened to me? You hurt me beyond measures and there's a part of me that I will never be able to get back.

Now, I'm scared. I live in constant fear of the intentions of others. I'm not stronger, I'm not braver. This didn't break me down to build me up, this just broke me. I pray that no other person feels this type of pain or shame that comes along with getting drugged, even you.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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