It was August 29th, 1998, a Saturday. I went to see my friend "Alfred". Alfred and I had met while clubbing, but we were never intimate. He was a good friend of mine, whom I went to see often. On this Saturday night we went to a guy's house, who he didn't know really well. We went to the house to "Go buy some marijuana." I was waiting in one of the rooms with my friend "Marie". When Alfred was done, I decided to go to the washroom before leaving the place. As I was opening the door to get out, two of the guys came in, locking the door behind them. One of them sat on the counter and the other went behind me. I had a skirt on that day, so it wasn't too hard to do anything on me.
The one behind me started to take my underwear off and the one in front of me forced me to give him a blow job. I started to do what he told me to, trying to think of a plan to get out of here. The guy behind me started to penetrate me, and I started to get real angry. I kicked the guy behind me and bit the one in front of me. They both were getting mad when one threw me in the bathtub and the other tossed me around the bathroom. After a while they were getting tired and opened the door and threw me out. I started to scream and cry and left running out of the apartment. I didn't want to join Alfred after the accident, although he knew what had happened. Alfred and Marie walked me to the bus terminal. One of the guys came to the terminal and started talking to me, saying it was my fault and I was asking for it.
From that day, I really thought it was my fault. I was blaming my self for something I didn't do. Maybe I made part of it happen, but I wasn't the one who forced my self to have sex with those strangers. It wasn't my fault.
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