Vol. 118, No. 18 Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017 ‘One day I might be OK’ Editor’s note: The Daily Collegian does not typically run anonymous columns but felt this column was pertinent and timely for the Penn State community following the first I remember reported sexual assault of the fall semester. the music that night — how I stood The contents of this article are graphic in nature. silent as the people around me sang along to the words of a song I had never heard before — and the feeling of the chipped paint prickling the back of my arms as I leaned against the wall. I even remember the taste of my drink. It was cold and sweet and in a red cup. She There was a boy too. helped When I finally moved myself away from the me put my comfort of the wall his hands were almost in- shorts on and stantly on my hips, and his face, damp with asked me what sweat, pressed up against my ear. happened. I didn’t I didn’t want to dance, at least not with him. respond. I moved away from his grasp and by the time I She grabbed my arm pushed through the crowds of people and found again, this time leading me my friends they were drunk. I guess we all out of the room, down the stairs were, that was what we wanted when we went and through the front door. out after all: to be drunk and free just like in the She asked if I needed to go to the movies. That’s how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? hospital. I didn’t respond. My roommate asked me to come to the bath- She asked if she should call the police. I room with her. She felt sick. As we waited in didn’t respond. line, I saw her getting antsy, and it was notice- We just walked home. able to other people too. I sat on the floor in our room until I managed The boy came back. to get myself into the shower. The hot water He directed us to the upstairs bathroom beating down on my back didn’t make me feel where there was no line. I appreciated this. I warmer or cleaner. Looking in the mirror at even felt guilty I had dismissed him so fast be- my wet, naked body, I saw bruises form on my fore. thighs and arms; a faint yellow one around my By the time my roommate was finished in the mouth marked where his hand had been. bathroom she was practically immobile, unable I crawled into bed that night and didn’t leave to hold her own tiny body up. I wasn’t much of it for the next 27 hours. The only time I even a help to her either. I gripped at her sides as I lifted my head was to swallow the Plan B pill tripped down the hallway. my roommate bought me the next day. That was when the boy directed us to an open I wasn’t sure if he had worn a condom, and room. He told me I could lay her down and let she wasn’t willing to let me risk it. her sleep it off. “It happens all the time,” he said. I didn’t want to leave her though, so I rubbed I had hoped that swallowing that pill would her back as she slept on my lap. be the end of it — that I would no longer be I watched the time on my cell phone slowly plagued by the nightmares. go up and made a game out of seeing what But I was wrong. There is no escaping this. number I could count to before each minute No matter how hard I have tried, and trust me passed — 134 is the number I whispered when I have tried, the rape doesn’t stop. The bruises, the door creaked open and the sounds of the while they may have faded in color, do not go party flooded back into the room. away. They are still there when I look in the I almost forgot that it was even still going on. mirror. The boy came in with a bottle of Gatorade Sometimes I wonder if people walking down and two empty cups. He poured two cups and the street can see the bruises too. Sometimes I said I should try to get my roommate to drink wonder if I look like the girls in the pamphlets some when she woke up. they give out in the therapist’s office — the When he handed me the cups, I almost in- girls who have been raped, the girls who are stantly spilled one. “recovering.” The door then closed behind him as he Ten months after my rape, I tried to kill walked out, the sound myself. of the music once again I took a leaving with him. The No matter how hard I bottle of quiet seemed nice, al- pills and most calm. have tried, and trust me planned And so I sipped the drink from to go the same cup I watched his lips I have tried, the rape off into touch only minutes before and be- a deep gan counting again. I don’t remem- doesn’t stop. The sleep. ber what number I got up to that Just time though. for the bruises, while they may record, I don’t have faded in color, do want to I woke up to my chest feeling die. Even heavy, like a weight was crushing not go away. They are still then I me, and I began to panic. don’t The boy was on top of me and in- there when I look in the think I side of me. really The only sound that I could mirror.” wanted make was the faint, scared sound to die. that came out of my mouth when My wrists I gasped for breath. His head turned and his just got worn out from the razors I dragged hand then pressed against my mouth as he across them and the cigarettes I burned on leaned closer and began to move faster. them. All I wanted was to be the one controlling It hurt. Everything hurt. the pain for once. His damp face pressed against my ear like For so long, I gave the control to him. Every it had earlier that night. Except this time, corner I turned, every shadow in the night — it I couldn’t leave his grasp quite as easily. I was him. couldn’t walk away. I couldn’t do anything. Following the suicide attempt, I was handled I tried to push him off as I pinched my eyes with kid gloves. closed tight. I didn’t want to see his face any- No one besides my roommate even knew I more. was “depressed,” let alone raped. But then it was over. He wiped his sweaty The adjustment to therapy took me awhile. head on my chest, got up and walked out. And if I’m honest, I still sit in therapy to this day I laid there, shirt wrinkled and shorts on the and listen rather than speak most of the time. ground, feeling cold and numb. But the listening has helped. I don’t know why I was so cold. To be honest, I I don’t let my attacker have control anymore. don’t know if I’ve ever stopped being cold since I hope that one day he gets what he deserves, then. but I know he might not, and that’s OK. I’ll never forgive him, but there’s nothing wrong with that, and that’s OK too. My roommate was still lying on the ground. All these OKs make me think that one day I The same place I had sat with her and couldn’t might be OK. remember getting up from. I walked over to her There’s no avoiding what happened to me. I and shook her until she woke up. can’t turn back time and stop my assault from I realize now that I didn’t speak to her happening. What I have to focus on is that I’m at all while we were still in the house. alive, I survived. She looked up at me and grabbed my arm. I I may be a little messed up, a little broken, still didn’t have pants on. but I no longer live in fear. PAGE 2 | WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 13, 2017 LOCAL THE DAILY COLLEGIAN Board of Trustees: what do you know? By Allison Moody What is the Board of THE DAILY COLLEGIAN Trustees? At Penn State and universi- The Board of Trustees is a Firstname Lastname/Organization ties around the country, mul- group of prominent leaders from These are salaries of some of the highest paid Penn State employees. The dark blue bars represent each indi- tiple entities control various across the state, including Penn viduals salary during the 2016 fiscal year, with the light blue bar representing Franklins overall compensation. aspects of student life, and it State President Eric Barron and can be extremely hard to differ- Governor Tom Wolf. entiate who exactly is making Members are either appointed the decisions affecting students by the governor himself, elected every day. by alumni or other industry-spe- Breaking bank: How Coach With the Penn State Board of cific boards — such as the Del- Trustees convening for its first egates from Agricultural Societ- meeting of the academic year ies and the Board Representing Franklin’s salary matches up this Thursday and Friday at Business and Industry.