Promising “One last drink.” with every round, I ended up gulping down 7 pints at the bar. Intolerable by my body, my eyes twirled and vision swirled.
The next time, my eyelids opened to find myself naked in a strange room with an inescapable lock down my waist. Someone was over my drink possessed body which couldn’t manage to push that person away. My workout and proteins proved useless that very moment. My eyes swirled to sleep again, a distressful, unpleasant sleep. A filthy touch, an uncanny feeling ruled my skin, in and out.
I woke up that morning to a nightmare. I was still naked in a strange room with a hundred questions hovering over my mind. What was I doing here? Why am I naked? Why do I feel so uneasy? Am i raped?
I felt gorse gush down from my hair to toe. Back in my room, I dug myself under the pillow and cried like a baby. A mixed notion of guilt and shame prevailed. Even my mother’s touch sent shivers down my spine.
I finally opened up to my best friend who urged me to lodge a complaint with the police. But they made a joke out of it. They did nothing. I courageously confessed to my parents. But they were shamefaced more than supportive. They did nothing. I anonymously wrote to the media. But they said that the story was neither powerful nor true. They did nothing.
Any sexual abuse would immediately do round in headlines, receive public sympathy and emotional support. I too went through a horrible situation of sexual abuse and I don’t even crave for publicity or victimized sympathy. I only crave for justice, I crave to be heard. But no one gave an ear.
What was my fault? Was it, that my case was unusual? Was it, because I was a boy who never knew male rapes was also a thing?