Nightmare or Night from Hell?

The reason I'm discussing this today -a first btw- is because for the past two nights I've been having nightmares, or perhaps flashbacks. I'm not sure anymore. I've had them before but I don't know what's true and what's not. 

During my first year of university I was in a really bad phase. Though I was beyond excited to leave the Middle East and finally be on my own, I wasn't in the place I thought I was going to. It was difficult to befriend people because I was so self conscious and I that dark cloud of depression was always over my head. 

About a month into the first term I met a few people who liked to have fun. They loved to get drunk. They loved to get high. They loved to party. I was desperate for anything or anyone that may help get me out of whatever hell I was in so I went with the flow. At first I was against drinking and the drugs but I also wanted to fit in, so I started having a drink here and a drink there when we were at parties but never got drunk. Then I was curious about smoking weed so I decided to try it. It didn't really have an affect on me the first time or maybe I wasn't really a smoker so I didn't inhale properly. Either way didn't try it again until a couple years later. 

One time I was with this group and we went to a party, again I wasn't a big drinker then, but I had a beer that night, I wasn't drunk. Now there's a lot that's blocked out for me from this night, and I think this is the first time I'm going to discuss it and try to perhaps remember. 

So like I said I had been drinking and we went to a house party. Darek, who recently started hanging out with the group -came to two or three other outings- was already at the party. I used to think he was hot, definitely out of my league, blue eyes, a six pack, rugby player, you know everything a fat igly girl like me could never have in a guy. But to my surprise he was interested in me and that was new so I went with the flow and started dancing. Soon afterwards he said the group was headed home and asked if I wanted to stay a little longer and he would drop me home. So I said yeah why not. We kept dancing, that led to kissing but I wasn't comfortable kissing in public. I'm a paranoid person, what if someone I know saw me, what if someone took a photo and my family saw it? What if this what if that. So he suggested we go to the study. I was an idiot. I shouldn't have agreed to it I should have been smart and known that this would give him the impression that this was going somewhere I wasn't planning on going. He's a guy, a hot guy, one that had sex with a million girls a week, what was I expecting that this would be a kissing session and that's it?! Anyway, we were kissing on the couch in the study and things were happening. I remember it was a high ceiling room, bookshelf, very movie like room. Brown desk, hazel couch, filled with books, seemed like a study from the early 1950s or something really pretty come to think of it. 

I was wearing a skirt that night. I never wear skirts. I suddenly found him pulling it up, his hand finding its way up. I freaked out. I started pushing him away. He stopped. I said I wasn't ready, I don't know him, and that I wasn't going there. He was like okay I understand. The fact that he was okay with it made me okay with going back to kissing. Stupid move. He started doing it again, but faster and more aggressively this time. I tried to push him away. I couldn't. He was stronger. I kept saying no, but it didn't seem to mean much. I remember fighting for a bit, then I felt paralyzed, shocked, I wasn't moving. I froze. I was thinking - about a paper that was due. His fingers inside me, I'm not moving, my head thinking about a PAPER, and then it goes blank. I can't remember anything past that. The next thing I remember is being in my dorm the next day. Anything in between is missing. 

Sometimes I think it may have been a bad dream. I mean there are too many blanks that shouldn't be. I wasn't drunk, I wasn't high, so how could I not remember. People usually remember these situations vividly. If it were real I would remember it. 

Since that night I haven't seen or spoken to anyone from that group. I never reported it, I couldn't even if I wanted to. I don't know what happened I don't even know his last name. Did anything really happen? I was drinking and said yes to kissing and going into the private room so it really was my fault. And even if I had all the info and the law was on my side, I can't report it and have my family know. They can't know I was drinking or that I was okay with kissing. That's not acceptable in our culture. So I moved on. Nothing happened. For all I know it's the truth, nothing happened. And most of all, I can't do it. I cant bring myself to say this anonymously or to my therapist or to my friends or even to myself. This is the first time I've ever actually written it down or said my story to anyone and I don't even know why...

Point of the story, that made the rest of my year a little more complicated than I hoped. I went back to staying in bed. Crying myself to sleep. Keeping away from everyone because I'm afraid to deal with anyone. I had doubts about myself. About what happened. Did it really happen? Was it in my head? Was it a dream? Why are there blanks? And I spent the rest of the school year isolated and alone. And I felt it. I felt the loneliness, I felt the pain, I felt more and more hatred towards myself, and I felt lost. Confused. I sat in my bedroom for days at a time without leaving. I ate all the wrong things, barely any movement, it was hard to even get to take a shower and when I did shower I would sit under the hot water for long periods of time hoping it would wash away something, anything. The pain. The hatred. The disgust. Just take it away. And I don't even know what 'it' is.