Dear Diary,
I got drunk. Really really drunk. I kept pushing his hand away. I kept putting the bottle down.
He kept putting it back in my hand.
He kept telling me I only live once, that he paid for it, that I was young.
He slid his hand up my thigh.
I pushed it away.
once
twice
three times
I can't remember.
He pulled it out.
I started sucking. It's what he wanted right? He wouldn't walk me home of I didn't. It was so late and I was scared. I kept trying to stop.
Then he grabbed my hair.
Then I threw up.
It was red. So red.
Then he said it was ok.
Then he left me alone in the dark to walk home. unable to stand.
but it's my fault, Because I wouldn't let him fuck me.
it's my fault.
it's my fault.
it's my fault.
isn't it?