"Those are the lips I want..."

My ex boyfriend always begged me to have sex. He'd connect sex with everything and guilt me into doing it until I finally just never wanted to have sex at all. One day we were arguing and he told me, "I just don't think you'll ever find a guy willing to deal with how weird you are about sex." I ignored it.

A few months later, I sent him a selfie from my office; I was having a good day so I smiled for the picture and sent it to him. He replied, "Yeah. Those are the lips I want slobbering on my cock."

I'll never forget how utterly disgusted he made me feel.

"You need to learn how to shut your mouth."

For as long as I can remember, I was sexually harassed by a family member. He sent me dirty pictures, asked for sexual favors, and told me that when I was old enough, he would show me what love meant and more. 

I tried to tell my family multiple times. No one believed me. Every time I spoke up, he would back off for a short time, but when he started again it would be more aggressive.

What stuck with me the most was after the last time I tried to say anything, another family member said to me, "You're nothing but a liar who likes to cause drama, and you need to learn how to shut your mouth." 

After that, I kept silent for 5 years before finally trying to tell someone else. 
 

"Hey, so I'm sorry about the other night."

I can't remember anything about our night together. I just remember waking up in my dorm room, covered in bruises, my lamp on the floor with the shade crushed in, clothes scattered on my floor, and me, alone in my room, knowing that I had not been alone the night before. 

It took me almost 30 minutes to remember the last place I had been: a frat house that I frequented with my friends. We had gone there the night before to play beer pong with brothers at the frat. I had partnered up with a guy I knew, but did not know well. The last thing I could recall was his face hovering over mine in the darkness of my room.

The next day, I did not know what to do. My friends laughed it off as yet another one of my escapades. I was shaken, but managed to get through the day okay. Until I got a message at 2:39 AM the next night from that guy. That guy. It simply said:

"Hey, so I'm sorry about the other night. I was a little more aggressive than I normally am, so I apologize."

My heart raced. I wanted to vomit. I heard a roaring in my ears. 

I still don't know what exactly happened that night. I never asked. I don't really want to know. But I remember the bruises, and I remember the fear. I remember the single, simple apology that said so much and yet told me so little about what happened.