When does it end?

I knew a guy - a friend - for a few years that I called "brother". We shared everything in our lives even when we were thousands of miles apart. I would have crossed oceans for him because I loved him. He was a important in my life but I was important in his life for different reasons. He was telling people he was going to marry me: I was perfect. News to me. I was in love, engaged, to a man, not him, but that didn't stop him. It didn't stop him from nervously stirring something into my drink before carrying me out of the bar, down the street in the opposite direction from where the car was parked. Thank god the cops stopped us. I mean, they just figured I was some pathetic slut that drank too much that night; that I was just some lightweight that couldn't handle my drinks and my good friend was dragging me down the street to take me home and tuck me in with a glass of water. They didn't even think that maybe he slipped me something. That maybe I couldn't walk because I was tripping on something that was paralyzing and poisoning my body rather than just taking too many jell-o shots.

I realized what happened the next day as I spent it curled around a toilet pouring my guts out. Sick from the drug he had no problem watch slide down my throat but also from the thoughts of what could have happened. The worst that ever happened to me was drinking half a drink filled with poison from a man I trusted. That's not so bad, right?

It's not as bad my sister being pinned down and ripped open by a man that invited himself over and then disappeared. It's not as bad as my friend being stalked and harassed by a guy who lived in her dorm and left threatening notes before trying to break into her room. It's not as bad as another friend who was assaulted by the intoxicated male friend that she was just trying to get safely home. It's not as bad as the countless stories I've heard from the women in my life. Mine is pretty PG compared to the horrors that they've endured.

It's not so bad.