Back in the basement, I hate this basement. The only place I hate more then the basement is the guest room in the basement. when you go in it, you can still see one of the plastic shot glasses on the floor in the corner of the room. I remember when I first saw those shot glasses, and how I somehow knew they were no good.

My best friend had come back from cali for break and when she came to my house along with my two other friends she brought some of those shot glasses you can get from dollar tree. All night she begged to get drunk with my parents alcohol until I finally gave in. we were both drunk but we both had memory clear as day.

at least five times during the night she threw herself on me, insisting I kiss her or make out with her, each time I pushed her off, seeing as she was just a friend. But as the night went on she got more aggressive. of course my other friends would try and get her off but she would fight there attempts.

But at one point my friend was throwing up in the bathroom so the other one went to help. leaving her in the guest room and me on the couch. she came out and grabbed my arm. I trusted her so I followed, then for a second I spaced out until I realized what was happening to me. My best friend was sexually assaulting me. I screamed, I kicked and I scratched but she wouldn’t give in.

Finally, I heard footsteps. It was my friend, she had heard me. My “best friend” rushed me out and put me on the couch. before she left she said “Don’t tell anyone or ill hurt you.” She went back in her room and later I heard her crying to my friend confessing everything. she did it again the next morning.

I got drunk almost every night after that. I needed it to forget what happened to me. But every time, in the morning I would wake up to the same memory. Over and over again. I cut off contact with her and when she came in state I would be to scared to leave the house and I still am.