The night I don't want to remember, but I can't forget.

I had just turned 19. It was my first ever relationship. He was the first person I went on a date with, the first hands that I had ever held, my first kiss, and the first person I thought that I trusted with my body. First relationships are weird, you don't see the red signs usually. I didn't too. He disrespected me and ignored me and I always thought that he just needed his space. I didn't want my fake fairytale to end and so when he wanted to keep our relationship a secret a totally agreed. He never texted me first. He never put in the effort, never did the 'bare minimum' and yet I had imagined my whole life with him. Stupid young teenager me. After a few months of dating and being just on the second base, we planned to take our relationship to the next level. I'm not going to lie, I was excited. I guess I was more excited than he was. It was sex! Something I had always been so so curious about. Before I get into the details of how the supposed most beautiful night of my life turned into a nightmare for a lifetime, I would like to give you all a back story about me. I'll keep it short don't worry. I used to live in a hostel that had a biometric entry system, so basically, my parents got notified every time I was outside the hostel. I had to lie to my parents to sneak out (I would still do that, but then corona came, and boom, bye-bye college life). My ex's flat wasn't far away, it was like 10 minutes by walk. So that night we had planned that I would lie to my parents, tell them I'm staying over at a friend's place, and be with my ex. Goddmamn! I was nervous. All the excitement that I talked about earlier? Nope. It wasn't there. I was just plain nervous, but I really really wanted to lose my virginity. I don't know what kind of teen angst I was having, but it was something. I reached his home. We didn't go in right away. We walked and talked about it a bit. I told him how nervous and scared I was. He said he was scared too. We went in and started watching a film. I don't really remember what was in the film because all I could think about was how much it was going to hurt me. How will I manage if my hymen broke. Will he be okay with the blood? And so as I was thinking about it, he paused the film and told me we should start. We did. I'm going to skip on all the awkward bits but when the time came to actually DO IT. I was frozen. He went on to go inside me, and just so you know, I wanted him to, till then. But when he did, I did not, I repeat I DID NOT expect it to hurt so much. It felt like someone was putting a knife up my vagina. He kept on going and I kept holding on. I thought it would get better but it didn't. And so I screamed "STOP". "STOP STOP STOP STOP!" "NO! PLEASE STOP". I couldn't take it. And he wasn't stopping. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back. The push was strong and I guess he didn't like it. He pinned me down, looked at me with the eyes that I can't forget, held my arm, and asked why did I do that. I said it was hurting me and he asked me to go for a second time. Maybe this time it won't hurt. I didn't say anything I was too much in pain and surprise to think. He went in for a second time and I pushed him again. This time, he really didn't like it. He slapped my face and my world went silent. He backed off. Said he was sorry and started wearing his pants. I was sitting naked there, bleeding and hurting and still trying to process what had happened. 'Did this actually happen?'. This person that I had said my first 'I love you' to, had abused me and I couldn't process that. By the time I got into my senses, he started giving me my clothes. I saw that he was fully clothed. I wanted to ignore what had just happened and so I started wearing mine. I saw that the bedsheet was stained. I didn't have any pads with me and so my underwear was getting messed up too. By the time I was inspecting the "crime scene", he told me I had to leave. I was startled. Leave? It was 1 a.m. in the morning. I couldn't leave. What will I tell my parents? Why was I entering the hostel at 1 a.m.? He didn't seem to care. I started begging him to let me stay. I told him I'll sleep in the other room or the floor but just let me stay till the sun comes out. I begged him to not make me leave and he forced me to and above all, he gave me the bedsheet to wash. We came out of the house. I couldn't walk properly and every step hurt. My jeans had stains on them by then. He walked beside me and none of us said anything. Halfway through, I told him, if he didn't want to go all the way he can turn back and guess what? He did. He left me. He left me there in the middle of the road at 1 a.m. in the morning. It was hurting so much that I just wanted to get home. I didn't care by then what my parents would think. I just wanted home. I reached my room and my roommate was surprised to see me. She thought I wasn't coming back in the night. I remember not saying anything to her. I just went to the bathroom, cleaned myself, got back to bed, and slept. It took me 11 months to share it with someone else. I always blamed myself for that night. It affected me so much that I was about to leave college and go back home. I was failing at everything, until I told it to my best friend. He made me realize it wasn't my fault. He encouraged me to tell my other close friends and to stand against him. I'm so so thankful for my friends. I know, it never stops hurting, there isn't a day when it doesn't cross my mind. I still get nightmares about it. I still get scared. But one thing that I've learnt is that sharing it makes it hurt a little less. The support, the love, it all makes it easier. To every person who has dealt with something like this. I know it's hard. I know it hurts. I know it never gets alright. I know you have random nights when you can't stop crying, but I promise you the people who love you, will always be there. I'm writing this with the hope that it hurts a little less for me. I hope my story helps me and others. I hope that no one else goes through this.