I was visiting my friends at the University of Illinois during my sophomore year of college. My friend, Lisa, lived in a four-bedroom house with her brother, her friend Lizzie, and a friend that I can’t remember the name of. Let's call him Steve. Lisa's brother was out of town for the weekend, so I bunked up in his room.
That Saturday, all the housemates and a few other friends hung out in the evening. Later on, mostly everyone including Steve decided to go out to the bars. Lisa and I opted to stay in, and Lizzie went to stay at her boyfriend's apartment.
What must’ve been a few hours later, I was asleep in bed and felt someone climb on top of me. I woke up to heavy pressure on my hips, blinking my eyes open to the darkness. I made out that Steve was on top of me. He pulled me up to sitting position and urged me to come out to the hallway. I pushed his chest, saying to leave me alone. I turned around and lifted the covers over my head. This pissed him off. He remarked, in a drunken slur, that this was his home and he could do what he wanted. He ripped the covers off the bed, the cold air reminding me I was wearing only my underwear and a cami. He pulled my arm so forcefully that I nearly fell out of the bed. I continued to resist until I had no choice but to stand, as it felt like my arm was being pulled from its socket. I kept mumbling, "What are you doing...stop...leave me alone...where's lisa..." Deaf ears.
Steve dragged me outside into the dimly-lit hallway where several other people stood, drinks and cigarettes in hand. He positioned me next to him, his arm firmly around my waist. I didn't recognize the people--these were not the friends from earlier in the evening. They seemed older. They laughed and chatted, seemingly ignoring what was going on. Still confused from sleep, I muttered to Steve, "Let me go." He laughed, mocking my timid voice. "What was that? Can't you speak up?" He refused saying he was stronger than me, and I couldn’t do anything since I was weak. He continued to grope me: my stomach, my breasts, my butt. Anytime I pulled away or told him to stop, he gripped harder, enjoying my weakness.
I don't know why no one helped me. I remember staring at the individuals in the hallway, pleading with tears in my eyes for them to say something, do something. I don't know why I didn't scream. I suppose--at the time--the embarrassment of being fondled and toyed with was easier to stomach than putting up a fight in my friend's home. Was I disturbing the peace? Would I cause a fight among the roommates? Whatever logic I had, my feeble attempts to stop him went nowhere. I felt defeated.
At one point, he let down his guard to get a drink. I jerked away and ran into Lisa's brother's room, locking the door. As I pulled my hand away from the door, I saw it vibrate from knocking. Steve yelled, demanding I let him in. I said nothing. I stared at the doorknob. I stared until his footsteps returned to the group of drunk friends. I pushed the desk in the room up against the door as safety. I climbed back into bed, staring at the ceiling until the halls went quiet, my mind dozing off as daylight crept into the room.
When I woke up, I texted Lisa, asking her to come to my room. She was there shortly thereafter. I told her everything. Having fallen asleep drunk, she didn't hear anything that transpired; however, she assured me she and Lizzie would talk to Steve about what happened. While he was nowhere to be found that day, I told them I didn't feel safe there, and they agreed. I was heading back to my school that day, anyway, so we went out to breakfast, and I left shortly thereafter.
That evening, Lisa told me they had a hard conversation with Steve about what happened. He claimed he didn't remember any of it. Division among them reached a boiling point--because of this matter and others--and they soon severed ties, both as friends and as roommates.
I look back at that night as a time where I felt helpless. Were something like that to happen to me today, I surely would act differently, knowing I'm stronger now both physically and mentally. I wish present me could go back and kick Steve's ass and lambast those people for doing nothing. Thing is, I'm sure they never again thought about that whimpering girl in her underwear.