It was the summer that I was 15 years old. I had finally begun to come out of the awkward preteen stage. My stepbrother had announced his engagement, which I was happy about because my family was getting larger. There was something about her that I liked, but I didnt really know her. However, I felt sorry for her, since my stepbrother was the most disgusting thing on the planet. How he could ever get laid was beyond me because I had sized him up as the most disgusting man alive.
One night his fiance and he came over to the house. They went and spoke with me privately in my room about sneaking out and getting drunk with them for my first time. Getting to really know her was such an exciting idea, that even though I was reluctant, I was finally talked into it. As I snuck out that night, I went into the alley and jumped in his car. As I closed the door and buckled I looked around the car, but she was not there. My stepbrother only made up some excuse about them having an argument. We went to a 7-11 and he bought me fuzzy navel wine coolers. We went to my dad's warehouse across town and played quarters. At some point he was getting paged by his fiance, so we left the warehouse and drove to a nearby payphone. As I sat in his car while he argued with his fiance, the full brunt of the alcohol took effect. I was laughing and talking loudly. In my drunken state, I was trying to get him to hand over the phone, even though I was in the passenger seat and the payphone cord would never reach. I wanted to say hi to his fiance and talk her into coming out. But I did not realize what was going on- what my stepbrother had planned.
When we returned to the warehouse, I do not remember what happened exactly. My last memory is me telling him that I was tired and I was going to sleep, and then left to the small room "apartment" that was at the front of the building. The bed was still there- just a mattress and frame from the previous tenants. No sheets. I laid down and went right to sleep.
I woke up to my stepbrother removing my clothes. I tried to stop him but I was too drunk. I was far too weak and uncoordinated. I could not even tell him no because I could not speak. It came time for him to take off my underwear and pants and I desperately tried to keep my knees together in protest. He pulled harder on my clothes, successfully getting them off, then forced my legs apart. Next he began to perform cunnilingus on me (which most people refer to as "eating out"). I was shocked at how fast he could make his tongue move, but I was turned off by it. It felt robotic, not sensual. This was only cold and mechanical. Even now I cannot stand the feeling of that super fast tongue movement like a snake, and to this day I have never had it performed in that manner.
He then stopped so he could penetrate me. As he penetrated me I felt disgusted. I did not know what to do. Luckily he penetrated me slowly, not violently. However, as he increased the depth with each pump, he got more assertive. At some point he told me to kiss him, but I only ignored him. He repeated the command, but there was a different sound in his voice- and I worried that he was going to become violent with me if I didn't. So as he bent down I allowed him to kiss me. Then he told me to kiss him back, but I was so drunk I was not coordinated enough to do it. Repulsion swept over me and I got sick to my stomach. At this point, I did not care if he beat me, he was never going to get another kiss off my lips.
With my head turned to the side to avoid him, I stared out the front window of my father's warehouse in its empty apartment. The orange street lamp was the only thing that stared back. I felt like I stared at the "bug light" street lamp forever. During that time I think I noticed two, maybe only one pair of headlights as they passed right in front, only feet from me. I willed them to stop and save me. But they winked out of sight as quickly as they drove into sight since my father's warehouse was on a curved commercial street. Paralyzed by fear, shock and drunkeness, I only lay still like a dead body. He finally pulled out and came just under my crotch. Revolting. Gagging as I realized that his ejaculate was on me I dragged my body on the top of the mattress as best I could to wipe it off, even though this mattress was disgustingly dirty, it was still cleaner in my mind than that. The thought that my body betrayed me flashed into my mind, as if I could have willed my body to stop it. Knowing better, I became more sullen instead.
Grabbing my clothes hurriedly in my drunken uncoordinated state, it was amazing I did not fall repeatedly. I went straight to his car in the main part of the warehouse, swaying the whole way and went to sitting inside his car, not saying a word. There was nothing I could say as the shock and revulsion overwhelmed me. He tried to convince me to get out of the car, but I just avoided eye contact and shook my head. In silent protest, I think I sat there for nearly 45 minutes before he finally relented and drove me home. The whole way home I spoke nothing to him. Right before he dropped me off, he told me not to tell. In disgust I shook my head and gaped. As he pulled into the alleyway behind my house, I opened the door even before he stopped and closed the door just as quickly. Fumbling with the large gate, I stumbled into my yard. Over and over in my head I repeated to myself, It would all be ok, My dad would protect me. My dad would make this all better. My dad would comfort me.
In my uncoordinated rush, I almost plowed through the kitchen table, waking up the whole house. Just as much as I wanted to wake the whole house and tell them what had just happened, I also wanted to go straight to my bed. The urge to run to my bed was instinctual. The horror of it all had kicked in and my body was trying to cope by shutting down and sleeping. Either way I would have been happy. In a way I was disappointed no one woke up. Needing to be comforted, I also wanted to be cleaned from the overwhelming shame I felt. But I barreled through the house straight to my bed. The tears were beginning to well up and my breathing had begun to become sobs. My dad would be here for me. Everything would be fine as long as he comforted me. He would make all this better. All I needed was my dad. That thought was the only thing that helped me through the agony of that night. As I lay in my bed, trying to become one with the mattress and hide from my shame and disgust, I consciously worked to control my sobbing. The horror of what had just happened was rising in my throat and I was about to start screaming. My parents were light sleepers and they were on the other side of the wall- the headboard of their bed against the wall we shared. But instead I got my breathing under control. The only reason I even relaxed enough to fall asleep was because I repeated over and over again. My dad would protect me. He would make me safe. My dad would fix this.