Merry Christmas Essay -- Personal Narrative Essays

Christmas break had just started and a chilly gust of air blew right through me as I walked up to my front door, still in shock from the night’s trauma. Dave called me as I was driving home from my boyfriend, Mike’s house and said that he needed to talk to me about Julie, my best friend and his girlfriend. Because we were also good friends, I, of course, agreed. He was driving home from a basketball camp and said he would call again when he was on his way over. I thought nothing of it because I knew that he and Julie had recently taken a break from each other in order to possibly save their relationship, just like Mike and I had done almost three weeks earlier. I figured he wanted to ask me questions about how Mike and I were handling it and what he could do to reconcile with Julie. He called around nine o’clock and said he had just driven across the causeway and would be at my house in five minutes. I hurriedly threw on a sweatshirt over my long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. Dave came to the door and told my parents we were going out for ice cream. My mother knew better and flashed me a questioning look because I am lactose-intolerant and cannot eat ice cream. But I shrugged it off thinking that he just didn’t want to tell my parents that we were going to go talk about our respective relationship problems. We climbed into his white Jeep Cherokee and headed out of my neighborhood. I asked him, â€Å"Where are we going exactly?† And he said, â€Å"Down to the beach where it’s quiet and we can talk without anyone overhearing us.† This should have tipped me off. We pulled into a parking spot at The Boardwalk, a popular hang-out for high-school students during summer, and climbed out of the car. We walked down the decrepit wo... ...ng to Louisville the next morning to spend Christmas with my family, and we had to get up at 4:30 am. I walked into my room and locked the door behind me. I was supposed to call Mike back after â€Å"talking† with Dave, but I wanted nothing to do with boys. Yes, I loved Mike, but I didn’t know how to explain what happened or what he would think of me. So I just jumped in the shower and climbed into bed, all the time trying to pretend that I hadn’t just been raped by someone who I thought was my friend. It’s been almost four years now, and I’ve recovered quite well. I am still currently with Mike, who does not hold the fact that I was raped against me. He listens to me when I need to talk about it, holds me when I need to be held, and does so without judging me. Telling him was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. Now all I have to do is tell Julie.