Trigger Warning: This letter is about rape, and it can be a little explicit.

Dear Brock,

This weekend, I went to a party. I, along with young women all over this country. It's okay- you don't know me. And you know what? Most of the guys around me who were shotgunning beers probably don't know me either. After the party, I left. I walked home, across my college town, in the dark. I even made the brave choice to slip out the back door and into an alley when I left.

So why does this concern you? Well, Brock, because I went to a party and I drank a little more than I should have and I did not let my friends walk me home when they wanted to go to the bar, because home is out of the way. I was vulnerable. And I live in a college town, just like you did. And you know what did not happen to me, Brock?

I didn't wake up in the hospital with my clothes torn or bruises or feeling violated. My underwear was still on, my sweater still over my dress, and my bra securely latched. I did not wake up in a hospital, I did not have to file a rape report, and I will not have to sit across from a man who took a part of me without my consent and defend why what he did was wrong.

And I am the lucky one. Because somewhere out there, a girl did go through that. Girls will go through that and are going through that and you know what? Because of you, they are going to live their lives afraid. They aren't going to speak up because you taught them that their attackers won't really be punished. You taught them that they should question if digital rape even counts.

Brock, let me tell you why I hate you, a disgusting excuse for a man who I have never and (hopefully) will never meet. I hate you because I know five young women who are forced to live with what was done to them without their consent. I know five young women who cannot get back what was taken from them, no matter what type of assault it was. They live every day, most of them knowing they might run into their attacker at any given point. I have seen some of them crumble to the ground because they caught a glimpse of him in a crowded room and they were so scared they couldn't breathe. I hate you because to me, you are that guy across the room putting my friend into a panic attack, which never used to happen before. You're no better than the men making girls hold their breath and count to ten before they walk into a court hearing and face the man who changed their life.

But more than that, I hate you because you taught the men who think violating women is okay that they won't even have to pay. Because he's an athlete. Because he only fingered her. Because she was drunk, how would she know she didn't consent?

Brock, I hope you live your entire life in fear of those protesters outside your house. I hope you can never eat your favorite foods again. I hope you can't get a job, I hope you never swim, I hope that this world continues to punish you every day in the way our justice system failed.

Sincerely,

A girl who made it home.