I didn’t report my rapist. Years later, it still haunts me

There are things we never want to write down. Words we don’t want to say out loud. This is one of those stories. But I’m sharing it because if you’ve ever felt alone after something terrible happened to you—especially something you didn’t report—I want you to know: you’re not alone.

It happened when I was 22. My brother’s friend—we’ll call him Luke—had known me since I was a baby. My brother and I are ten years apart, and Luke had basically grown up around us. That night, he and my brother went out drinking for my brother’s birthday. They came back late. I was asleep.

Luke came into my room. He woke me up just to say hi. I remember thinking, weird, but okay. He wanted to chat. I didn’t think much of it. Later, when everyone went to bed, he decided to crash at our place. His own home—where his wife and kids were—was just three blocks away.

He joked that he was going to sleep in my bed. I thought it was just that—a joke. I was wrong.

He got in bed and asked me to cuddle. I didn’t want to, but I froze. I didn’t feel like I had a real choice. He was huge—over six feet and close to 380 pounds. I was on the inside of the bed, against the wall. And before I knew it, he was on top of me.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t fight. I couldn’t speak. My body just shut down.

What Silence Looks Like

It took me three days to tell my best friends. Six months to tell my mom and my brother. Why so long? Because I didn’t want to ruin a friendship. Because I thought maybe it wasn’t rape, even though I knew deep down it was. Because I blamed myself for not doing more—even though I was paralyzed, terrified, and caught off guard in my own bed.

That’s what trauma does. It makes you question your reality. It twists guilt into your skin. And it makes you keep quiet when you should’ve screamed.

I never confronted him. Never saw him again. He acted hungover the next morning like nothing had happened. I acted normal too, even though everything inside me was broken.

I threw away the clothes he touched. Scrubbed the memory out of my skin. There was no physical evidence left—just the trauma.

When Healing Comes Late

Now it’s been four years. I work in a different town. The other day, I ran into his mom. She talked to me like nothing ever happened. She doesn’t know. How could she?

And just like that, the trauma came rushing back. I check the lock on my apartment door ten times before going to bed. I look over my shoulder more than I used to. I sleep with one ear open.

I wish I’d reported him. I wish I’d said something sooner. But I didn’t. And now, I feel like it’s too late. Maybe it is, legally. I don’t know the rules. But I know the feeling. That gnawing urge to do something. Anything.

What Do You Do When You Can’t Go Back?

Here’s what I’ve learned—or am still learning:

• You’re allowed to grieve late. Trauma doesn’t follow a schedule.

• Telling your story still matters. Even if no one goes to jail. Even if it’s years later.

  
  
  

• Therapy helps. Even if you’re scared to start. Even if you think you’ve “moved on.”

• You didn’t ask for it. It doesn’t matter if you were nice. Or quiet. Or confused. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.

• You’re not crazy for feeling unsafe now. That fear is valid, even if he’s not around.

I don’t have a neat ending to this story. I still don’t feel safe all the time. I still wonder what would’ve happened if my dad had been alive. I still have days when I feel broken.

But I also know this: speaking up now, even anonymously, even years later, is its own kind of justice.

If This Sounds Like You

If you’re reading this and thinking, me too, I see you. Whether it happened last week or last decade. Whether you reported it or didn’t. Whether you’re ready to speak or still silent.

Your story matters.

And no matter what anyone says—it wasn’t your fault.

If you or someone you know is dealing with sexual assault, please reach out to a trusted counselor or support organization in your country. In the U.S., you can contact RAINN (the National Sexual Assault Hotline) at 1-800-656-4673. You are not alone.