One shot, two shot, three shot, four
He sat by sipping his beer, egging me on
As I attempted to show off my high alcohol tolerance
But ***** doesn't sit well on an empty stomach
Not much time later I asked for food
Which was delayed due to a shortage of effort on his part
When I asked for water
I was told they didn't have cups
And when I asked for a sober drive they said they would call
But the phone was never picked up
After a while I begged for something
Anything
To calm my stomach
As they ushered me to the kitchen I could feel it all
I vomited all over the floor
And myself
They laughed it off
"It happens to the best of us"
They said
as though demeaning yourself to that level
was the same as tripping over your shoelaces
When we got back to the room
My head went heavy and my memory became dark
I layed my head on the couch
On when I opened my eyes again my friend
Who was there to keep me safe
Was 22 shots in
Yes 22 shots
We asked for a ride again but
"The party was just beginning"
I refused to move so when he offered me
A night to sleep on his couch
All I could think was that I liked not having to move
I watched my friend being dragged away by his frat brothers
When my eyes opened again
He was on the couch cuddled up to me
I wanted nothing more than some space to breathe
But couldn't find the words
To express my want for him to leave
When he whispered sweet nothing's in my ear
I realized it was truly time to go
I managed to pick myself up
And asked for a ride home
But "it would be hours before the sober got there"
I stated that I could walk back on my own
But I was informed that it was a poor decision
Because I was a woman and drunk and alone
He said he would figure something else out and left the room
My eyes closed again and I remember being pulled off the couch and pushed up into a bed
And soon he was laying next to me
I just wanted it to be over
And I was past the point of control
I gave up and tried to fall asleep
But then his hands wrapped around me
And slowly moved across my body
I didn't move.
He reached his hand inside my pants
And I was in shock
I said stop but it was too quiet
He didn't hear or maybe choose not to
I said it again and his hand pulled away but stayed on my skin
It went blank again
In the morning he drove me home
A poem I didn't spend much time on because I hate recalling the event but I think it is important to tell.
