He put his hands around my neck, gently pressing his thumbs into a notch of my throat.  Demonstrating how someone feels when being choked.  He asked me if I felt it.  I tried to nod. I froze. He was supposed to be an ally.  I came to him for help.

I woke up in my hotel room, nude, sore, bruised. Thick, crusty, sticky goop – semen, on my legs, in my pubic hair, on my thighs, on the sheets. I sat on my bed in shock. I knew what happened, yet I didn’t know. I couldn’t know. Not to me. I had no memory.  Who? How? My head was pounding and swirling. I could barely keep it upright.  My tongue was sticking to the roof of my mouth. I needed water.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  My eyes were swollen and bloodshot.  I clearly cannot hold my liquor.