I wanted to walk around downtown.
I wanted to go on a date.
We did not discuss sex.
You planned to take me home.
You asked for a ride.
I felt obligated to help you.
You heard the discomfort in my voice.
The strain when I talked in the car ride.
You saw my reserved demeanor on the couch.
The distance I kept.
My polite refusal to drink.
You were disappointed with my answer.
As if you wanted me to forget.
I did not want to get a tour.
The spare room.
The living room.
And the "Oh I forgot"
Your "nice and expensive" bed.
I did not care.
I did not want to have sex.
In the moment I decided.
You did not ask.
You closed the door.
Turned off the light.
And pushed me on the bed.
You climbed on top of me and began to undress me.
Giving me no time to think, to respond, to push you off.
Your tongue was inside me before I could realize what was happening.
I hated it.
I hated you.
I made the mistake of expecting you to feel my discomfort.
My tense body.
I started growing to hate myself.
The embarrassment consumed me.
I was too ashamed to tell you this isn't what I wanted.
I laid there as you raped me.
I thought you were done and said I was tired.
I turned to my side and looked out at the stars through the window.
Thinking of how I was so stupid.
And you interrupted my thoughts by sliding your way into me.
I told you I was tired. That I wanted to go to sleep.
You only responded by pushing inside me.
I tried to get my distance but you held me close.
So close that I could feel your cold heart beat.
What I would've given to stop hearing it.
Stop feeling your breath on my neck.
Stop smelling your sweaty body.