When Something Died

5507777269_7514e305a2WRITER’s NOTE: This is a story from my past.


Blurry-eyed and fuzzy-headed, I woke up. I’ve had exactly one type of hangover in my life, and this didn’t feel like that. My cashmere pants was falling slightly beneath my butt and what felt like warm milk trailed from it down through my socks. I lit my phone’s backlight to my legs and my white socks were now a stained mosaic of blood and grass stains.

I also was in pain, massive pain, and this pain was in my rectum. So while reminiscent of why I should be lying in the middle of the campus field at about 3am, a different pain struck my senses back to the present – this pain was different, and exponentially more excruciating.

As I slowly came to a semblance of awareness, I realized I was missing about five hours of my life. I began to be stricken with flashbacks and pain, and a deep rising, heated and nauseating fear.

Then it hit me – I had been gang raped.

Earlier the previous day, I had decided to spend the entire evening studying for my first test in the university. It was Genetics and I wanted to ace it. I had just moved into the hostel about two weeks ago and was still unfamiliar with the grounds. That evening, I decided to leave early, partly because I needed to cover the entire test topics and still have time to go over them, and also because I had noticed some guys making passes at me in the hallway and I was trying to avoid them.

Reading went as planned and at about 10pm, I decided to go to my meditation spot. It was the football pitch, usually quiet and serene at that hour; it was the only quiet time in the day I could get, seeing that I stay in the Boys’ Hostel.

I queued in my playlist, rested my head at the back of the bench I was sitting on and just allowed my books fallout of my hands. I was in the zone. But not for long.

I sensed – more than saw – the presence of other people, so I stopped the music and grabbed my books to start going. Then a voice – a voice which could only belong to a roughneck – called to me, “Small boy, you dey go class?”

I turned around to reply him, but I could only make out four silhouetted images of the people standing there. “I don finish today own,” I said, trying to hide my terror.

I walked on until I got to the end of the field. Five more minutes of walking, and I’d be in the midst of the boys’ hostel upbeat night.

But those five minutes never came.

A cafeteria separated the football field from the hostel. As I approached the cafeteria building, I heard footsteps closer behind me than before. And like a rushing of wind, there was a thud, and it was me bouncing off the wall of the cafeteria building to the ground; I felt like my cranium had cracked open.

One of the guys pinned me to the ground and had his hands over my mouth. I felt him slip something into it; it must have been a pill. I defenselessly struggled to get out of his grip as the drug’s effect began to kick in. All I could remember was a painful probe up my rectum. It was enough to drive me into unconsciousness, but it didn’t just yet. A couple of minutes later, there was the pain again and I simply slipped out of consciousness.

I struggled with embracing reality for the better half of the remaining morning. I eventually made it to my room to find it empty. I packed my bags, called a cab and went straight home. Later that day, I went to the hospital and got eight stitches up my ass.

I couldn’t go back to school for more than a month. I felt everybody had watched and are still watching what had happened to me.

I know that being LGBT means that we don’t always seek medical attention, seek legal services or report crime like our heterosexual brothers and sisters. I can only assume that the pain, shame and confusion we may experience after being raped and violated in this way exacerbate our fear and lead us to run further from help rather than seek it out.

But I also know that there is no excuse or rationalization that makes this violation of my body or your body okay. It doesn’t matter if you were out drinking or flirting or even invited someone home with you; the boundaries you set for your body are yours to define and control, and the intrusion of those borders by another person/people is not your fault under any circumstances. Don’t ever question that for a moment. It was not your fault.

Every day that went by in the aftermath of that incident, the physical pain I felt lessened. The flashbacks, panic attacks and nightmares were fewer and fewer.

But I need to admit that something in me died that night. I don’t know what it was, but it’s gone.

Written by ScarFace

28 thoughts on “When Something Died

  1. WTF!!!! This was only something my imagination cooked up. To think someone has ACTUALLY lived through it??? Goes to show how less of this life I have chosen I know. Stay Strong Scarface

  2. A related issue at a Uni in southwest few years ago or probably the same incident? Anyhow,
    it is sad, very sad. Leaves me with some questions though.

  3. Its official! Today is a sad day for me!

    Thank you Pinky!
    Thank you for placing too sad stories side by side!

  4. This is a touching story. Obviously, the author has ‘survived’ and I want to commend his will and strength. I have real experience with rape and I understand how trumatic it is. However, I want to advise people that when something like this happens, seek medical attention. This is to make sure that there hasn’t been permanent damage and to give you proper treatment. Secondly, talk to someone. Do not suffer in silence.

  5. I have come across some people especially in my philosophy class who said that some people can cause themselves to be raped by the clothes they wear or the way they carry themselves. I think if I was Emily Thorne, they would have been expelled from the university the next day. Rape is NEVER okay. And I can’t begin to understand what you went through but I hope you heal perfectly well. I hope that this vile act that killed something in you can somehow make you beautifully whole again. Like a Phoenix rising from its ashes again, only this time you are better and more perfect than the last one. Gods speed ScarFace. 🙏🏽✊🏽

  6. Awwwwwwwww
    Scarface, I’m sorry about what you went through…
    I know you have been scarred by the incident but just stay strong and positive about life. *it could have been worse but it wasnt*
    Courage Dear

  7. Jeez.. I can’t even imagine what you went through. I don’t even know if I could live through that. You’re very strong and brave.
    The MOFO’s that did it will surely get whats coming to them.
    No human being should ever have to go through such trauma. I’m so sorry for what happened.
    Thanks for sharing your story.

  8. It’s all beginning to make sense. It is true, something dies within you and you can’t really place what it is.
    It gets better, hopefully.

  9. Oh dear God!!!!, this is so wrong, the cruelty of the human heart tho, people actually considered and executed such barbarism, I’ll forever remain an instigator for the death penalty for rape, to me its worse than murder. I’m sorry Scarface, can’t begin to imagine the trauma.

  10. I’m so sorry about this ScarFace. Nobody should have to go through this. Those that did that EVIL will definitely pay.I’m glad ur moving on with life.

  11. I understand how it feels like. Although I haven’t been outrightly raped, but I had a very close shave few days ago and till now I feel nauseated.

    I wish you the very best.

    That is why we need a strike force. A set of people who’d fight back. People we can call upon when victimized because of our sexuality.

    I remember a story I read some time back where a girl was raped by a guy, she told her male friend or brother who met a very hardened gay guy and the gay guy and his friends went to the guy’s house and raped the guy hard till he bled out of his rectum. There is nothing like let bye gone be bye gone here.

  12. Can’t wrap my head around male rape, much so male rape that involves the same sex. Its just, raping a man isn’t an easy task. Plus there’s the possibility of encountering an unprepared ( undouched!) rectum. I can imagine they’ll be blood and excrement. Why would anyone enjoy and initiate unconsentual anal sex for goodness sake!

    • am having trouble understanding why straight dude(s) would rape fellow male, never mind the
      unprepared ass if you get my drift.

      • Some people are sick that way. I think that the mere idea of raping someone is even more surprising than what they encounter ‘there’. Shrug.

  13. You reached into deep cores and ripped off band aids that are meant to heal forgotten wounds.
    There’s nothing I can do except start the healing process again.

    Old wounds will heal Scarffy.
    That’s the hope I have.

  14. From me to you:

    I am immensely sorry.

    I know exactly what died inside you. I am very aware of that deep shame you felt from not being able to defend yourself while it all happened. The disgust, sadness and hatred. That nasty shame and despair.

    Trust me, eventually you will move on from it, but you could never forget it even if you tried. Don’t try to, only makes it worse. Talk about it (I am glad you already are), speak to a friend or a trusted person. Don’t keep asking “why me” – that question sadly never gets answered because just like many others too, it was unfortunately you. It just was.

    All I can say to you is, do not let it get a hold of you or control the rest of your life, if not, they won and will forever own you. Try – do all you can- to never let that happen. There is a lot more to live for. So much more. Do not let this define who you will be tomorrow in a negative way.

    I do know what died that night and I am very sorry it happened to you.

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