4 years ago I met a guy online, we hung out 3 times, and on the third time he raped me.

At this point, I only remember the guy's first name, and can't even find him on the internet.

I met this guy off of okcupid. I had him over a few times. We would have drinks together, chat, he met my friends, he was fun, attractive, and seemed like a genuinely good person. I had made it clear to him that I wasn't ready to have sex with anyone and just wanted to hang out for now and see where it goes. The third time we got together was at a gathering at my place. I think about 5 or 6 of my friends were there. I had a bit to drink, he also gave me drinks, and to this day I question whether he drugged me because of how complete passed out I became.

I woke up the next day with my pants pulled down, and my shirt lifted up. I couldn't remember anything. I felt gross, I felt ashamed. This was far from my first time being raped as I have a history of molestation and rape growing up so I tried to simply push it out of my mind and move on with my life. I didn't pursue taking him to court because I know how it turns out when a woman (especially with a history of drinking) gets drunk and get raped (by a star college pupil) with no witness and no sign of struggle and I didn't want to go through that. I just wanted to live my life.

I would find out later when I finally opened up to my friends about the rape that the bastard walked past my friends to the front door, turned around and winked and smiled at them, and left. They were confused but didn't think too much of it until later.

After 6 weeks I started to get worried about my late period. I hadn't had sex with anyone in months, so I knew if I were pregnant it was with that rapist's baby.

My friend Beffy happened to have a TON of pregnancy tests. I was at her place when the panic hit me, messaging her on facebook. She informed me of the tests and told me to take one to ease my mind. I took one and to my horror, it was positive. They were cheap tests so I took another, and another, and another. I think I took literally 6 tests before I realized I was really pregnant and started to panic. I had no birth certificate and no social security card. It'd take a long time to get those things, possibly long enough that I could not legally get an abortion. I began sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of being forced to carry this "rape baby" to term.

Beffy told me she had ordered an abortion pill off the black market and then ended up not needing it because she had a miscarriage.

I was relieved but skeptical. Until I had the pill in my hand I wouldn't believe it. Actually until I had a negative test after having taken the pill I wouldn't believe it. Beffy came home and tore her entire place apart looking for that pill as I sat in the room panicking and thinking it was lost forever. She found it! I took the pill and waited. She was going to go to a party but after a bit of debating decided she definitely should stay with me and not have me do this alone. Which was good because the next 6 hours were the most painful in my life.

It started off just feeling like regular menstrual cramping but after a few hours I was crying and sweating in bed. I was feverish, I was gushing blood and I was in so much pain. Beffy got me a hot rice sock and soup (what a sweetheart) and sat with me in bed but eventually I had to move to the bathtub. The entire tub became filled with so much blood and large clots. And I stayed in it for hours sweating and crying until the pain eventually started to subside. I ended up laying in bed, with a pad, and a hot rice sock and miso soup until I finally got some rest.

Surprisingly, when it was over I found myself crying about the baby. I have always been pro-choice and especially get passionate about the rights of victims to have access to abortions but I couldn't help thinking of the baby. I looked up how it would look at 7 weeks and I cried. I never plan to have kids so extinguishing a would-be baby before it formed struck some sort of nerve, and maybe I was hormonal. But I definitely grieved the baby for the next few weeks.

I never confronted that guy and now that I feel like I want to, I can't because I cannot remember his last name. I blocked it out entirely. I don't think of it too often now, honestly. I have gotten over it pretty well and moved on with my life at this point but I wanted to share my story for anyone else who may be afraid to come forward. Or who just needs to read a story that can give them a sense of solidarity.

I haven't told this story to a lot of people. Many of my friends may not even know. I have never publicly posted about it. I am shaking as I finish writing this but I am ready to confront what happened.