Prologue: Where it all began

Trigger Warning for this entire blog, there are mentions of acts of a sexual nature, which are often forced so if you are triggered by that then please don’t read this

I have always been rather overdramatic, or so my friends always tell me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy attention every once in a while, but then again, who doesn’t? When it came to this time in my life, I kept it secret for so long, only one other person other than myself and the person involved knew about it (though how many people that person told I shall never know). I was scared to tell people, because I knew that they would tell me that I had to stop, that I had to say no and step away, but I was so deep “in love” that I didn’t want to hear that, I couldn’t stop myself. So I didn’t tell anyone, I just kept it as secret as I could, hoping that it would just end, because I didn’t have the strength to do it myself. This is the story of how I was abused by one of my best friends.

Chapter 1. The Start

I will not tell you my name, because it is not important for this story. I am 18 years old now, this story all took place around 2 years ago, so I finally feel like I am able to write all of this down. I thought about making a video about it but after writing down the key points and realising that they alone were around 2 A4 pages in word, I decided it would be best to start up a blog and write it all down here.

So here’s some background information to get you all started. I have been in my current school for around four years and am graduating (hopefully) in a couple of months. This story takes place about half way through my second year in, meaning that I was 16 at the time. The boy in question, who is going to be called Max for this story, and I had been friends since basically the first day of school. So just a brief history on Max, he had a lot of health problems when he was a child, which caused him to spend the first five years of his life mainly in hospital, him pretty much almost dying and basically nobody had much hope, but somehow he managed to survive. He went to primary school with my current best friend, we will be calling her Lexi, who has been my best friend for 8 years now. It only seemed natural for us to become friends, as we were coming into a new school, we didn’t really know anybody else and we all seemed to have similar interests.

For those first one and a half years, everything was amazing. I had my best friends Max and Lexi by my side and although high school was definitely more stressful than middle school, we got by with each others help. We especially helped Max, because Lexi and I were better in school, though he didn’t often accept our help. Anyway, throughout this first year, Max developed a super huge crush on a friend of ours, which was tough, because she didn’t like him back and it kind of ruined their friendship in the end, but Lexi and I tried to help both of them through as best as possible and somehow it all worked out, though they stopped talking to each other. This was all around June, July of my first year at that school. That summer, he began to experience panic attack on a pretty regular basis and he blamed them on her (this will be relevant later on).

As we started our second year, everything seemed pretty normal, it was more the three of us from now on. I never found Max particularly attractive, he was not exactly what I would call a pretty face and at the time I had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever. I had been talking to another guy for a while, but that didn’t really work out. I was 15 at this time and I had never had a boyfriend before, nor had I kissed anyone, which at the time seemed like the most tragic event to me (looking back I do laugh at myself a bit). Naturally, after seeing my friends getting into relationships of their own, I wanted to have a boyfriend too, but so far I had had no luck. Time went by and my 16th birthday came and went, before I knew it a new term was starting, so this was around February of my second year.

Now, Max and I’s relationship had never exactly been the best, we seemed to have the knack of getting on each others nerves and we always seemed to end up fighting over tiny little things. Somehow, it would always be me who ended up appologizing for everything, I always felt guilty for things that, looking back, were far from my fault, but somehow he always made them out to be such. I have always been a person who tries to put everybody before themselves, but this was exactly what my downfall would be later in this story. So anyway – I had noticed some changes recently in Max, which had confused my slightly, but not too much. He had started to get a bit closer to me, when we were sitting on our couches in school he would run his fingers over my thighs and stuff like that. It felt nice and I didn’t think anything of it, but I liked the attention that I was getting from this boy, I felt sort of appreciated in a way, and it made me happy. After about a week, I started too feel a bit strange, I suddenly had the bizarre need to hug Max more often, to be by his side and I desperately wanted his attention, for him to talk to me, find me funny, anything. This was where it got confusing. It was the first time I felt like maybe I had a crush on this guy, but I completely dismissed it, because I was afraid of what it would do to our friendship.

This went on for about a month or so, me completely oblivious to the fact that I had an obvious crush on this boy and us slowly taking it further, we would share secret touches in school, some more daring than others. In our free time we started texting often, most of the messages were of a sexual manner, talking about meeting up to take things further. There were also some talks about going official as “friends with benefits” just between us, but I dismissed that idea immediately because I was too scared to commit to that at the time. Bare in mind, I was 15 at the time and had never kissed anyone before, let alone had any sexual experiences other than masturbation (though this was also very limited to my 15-year-old knowledge). The thought of touching a boy or having a boy touch me in that way thrilled me, but at the same time it terrified me. I was absolutely afraid of sex, for many different reasons, one being the pain that I was sure I would feel, another the fear of pregnancy at an early age. So I told Max very clearly that I did not want him to touch me below my underwear, because I wasn’t ready. Reluctantly he agreed, and so we aranged a time and date and met to “have some fun”.