I was at a friend's house on a Thursday night watching television when a girl I knew walked in drunk. She was going to walk alone a few blocks down to a party. I didn't want her to go by herself; I was worried something would happen to her.

We walked into a basement where there were two guys behind the bar and three other girls talking in a group. I got a beer, one beer.

I never thought one beer would change my life.

I woke up the next afternoon on a friend's futon, not knowing how I got there or why I felt so out of it. Walking home to my dorm room I fell twice, not having any control of my legs. I called a close friend who was worried, so he picked me up and brought me to the hospital. I didn't want to go. I didn't think I was raped. I didn't think something like that could happen to me.

I was raped.

They never found who did it, and that is the hardest part. I will never have a name, a face, someone to hate with such passion I can't describe. I will never remember what happened to me. Did he kiss me? Did he caress me? Did he laugh? Did he cry?

Some people say I was lucky: lucky that I didn't get pregnant, lucky that I wasn't "hurt", lucky that I don't know who did it. Some people who saw me earlier that night said that I "wasn't asking for it" by the way that I was dressed, as though women who dress sexy are.

When I tell anyone about that night, I change in his or her eyes. Whether it is disgust, pity, compassion, or confusion, it hurts. I am "that girl". I was raped.

I am just now starting to accept what happened that night. I can't change it in anyway. What I can change though, is the future: my future and the future of others.