Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Please note: The following story is protected under international copyright
and all rights are held by the author.  For more information or to obtain
reprint rights or explore other uses, please email to "twylamarie at
ymail.com"

   It's very hard to put your life in writing like this.  If you liked what
you read, can identify with it, or simply didn't understand it or found a
typo, drop me a line.  All thought and input are appreciated.

   #####

   I woke up and there was someone inside me.  I didn't know what was going
on, but from the pain in my head I knew I had probably just blacked out
again.  I had done that a lot lately.  The fog was lifting slowly in my
brain.

   I opened my eyes and vaguely recognized the guy between my legs.  Ned or
Jed or something like that.  I had met him a few times at parties. 
 Frankly, he wasn't my type.

   As I emerged from my stupor I also realized that in addition to the pain
in my head, I also felt rather sore between my legs.  Each thrust was an
irritant.  It wasn't exactly painful, but it was very annoying. 

   I didn't want this.  I tried to say no and push the guy off, but my
brain wasn't controlling my body right.  I fumbled around, my arms
ineffectively touching his chest before dropping again to the bed and what
was coming from my mouth sounded more like groans than an objection. 

   I tried again a few moments later, and a few moments after that, and
kept attempting to make sense of my motor skills and speech.   After
repeated frustration at not being able to control my own body, I drifted
off to sleep again.  (I you could call it sleep.  It was more like death or
a coma.)

   I woke up again sometime later to the same situation.  Someone of top of
me, but when I opened my eyes it wasn't the same guy.  I was more awake
immediately - whatever drug I had taken was wearing off - and the pain
between my legs was immediate and sharp.  He managed a few more strokes
before I could push him off, each felt as if I was getting stabbed with a
knife there.  I fought him off me - slapping and kicking - simply because
the pain made it an imperative.

   A shout of "What the fuck!!" boomed through the bedroom, and while I
thought it was a damn good question, my uninvited rider was actually the
one who shouted it.  (From the injured and insulted tone in his voice, it
was as if he was the one getting surprise pain fucked instead of me.)  

   Not 10 seconds later three guys ran into the room.  I continued to hit
and scratch at the chest of the guy who was now making a bit of a hasty
retreat.  I looked up to see one guy I didn't know at all, Jed/Ned from
earlier and a male acquaintance named Peter who for some reason I
considered a friend.   All of them were in just jeans or even just their
underwear, which was more than I had on at the moment.

   The man in my bed tried again to crawl back on and I started going crazy
again.  Peter pushed off my assailant, and the other two dragged my bedmate
from the room - him cussing the whole way. 

   Peter attempted to cradle me in his arms.   "You're awake," he said, as
if that explained anything.  I slugged him in the chest hard and said
"Peter, what the fuck?" 

   He just kind of weakly smiled, said "It was a party" as if it explained
it all. 

   I guess my stare back at him let him know that wouldn't do, but he
didn't seem to really care.  He retreated to the door saying "We've got
some beer and some bud" and left me alone.

   I was still in a mental fog - under the influence of whatever drug or
combination of drugs it was that had knocked me over - so it took me
perhaps 20 minutes to put on a robe, brush may hair and use some
mouthwash.  (I had to get a terrible taste out of my mouth that I guessed
was probably the spermicide from a condom.)

   As I regained my mental facilities, I felt that familiar trickle and
realized that while my last rider had worn a condom (I saw it as he was
exiting my room) at least one person had fucked me bareback.  I attempted
to pee to get some of the cum out of me though I was pretty much bone dry
and only a few drops landed.

   I stumbled out to the living room to find that there were actually five
guys out there, all smoking from a big bong and drinking beers and shots of
tequila.  I looked at the window and saw that is was obviously the middle
of the day.  When I came into view, conversation stopped.

   I grabbed a few aspirin and choked them down and took a bong hit of my
own hoping to feel better.  It didn't.  Finally I got enough brain cells
working the same direction to get good and irritable, and I blurted out
"which one of you gang rapists decided to go without a condom?"   No
response.  A few smirks.  A few frowns.  Finally Peter said "Come on, you
know it wasn't like that.  You enjoyed yourself in there."  As if I enjoyed
anything while I was passed out and getting passed around.   I don't think
even he believed his bullshit.

   I sat for a moment and absorbed it, feeling like I should perhaps be
angrier than I was.  Instead I was just honestly confused.  This wasn't the
first time this kind of thing had happened lately.  I felt taken advantage
of, but had questions about my own participation in it all.  Had I been a
willing accomplice in all this?

   My brain finally clicked into a decision on where to go next, so I just
said "Okay, well since none of you owned up, I just want to let you know
that before you date rape your next victim you might want to get yourself
checked for an STD because I think I have one and just got the test.  My
results don't come back for two weeks.  If you had owned up, I would have
given you a courtesy call."

   All of the guys eyes went to one individual - not one of the ones I had
been aware was in my bed - and another spoke up and said "We didn't rape
anyone bitch.  Stop saying that." 

   Sensing my oncoming rage at this, one of the other guys grabbed the
offended asshole by the arms and simply removed him from the room. 

   There was an uneasy atmosphere with those remaining and no one spoke for
a while.  Jed/Ned finally said "You aren't going to try to take this to the
cops are nothing are you?  We were just having fun and you seemed to be
enjoying it.  If you'd a said no we'd have stopped...."    He stopped
talking when he realized that all the other guys were giving him the look
that unmistakably says "shut the fuck up."  It was quiet again.

   I lit up the bowl, took another hit and after blowing it out said "look,
just get the fuck out okay?   I'm tired, and I'm sore and I don't want my
landlord to complain about the non-stop houseful of visitors shit again. 
Just go."

   That was all they needed to hear I think, because they stood, slid on
shirts and pants as necessary and made for the door, one of them stopping
to grab a beer from the refrigerator on the way out. 

   I heard them as they walked out of my door and towards their cars.  One
of them said "Shit man, she's so messed up she couldn't dial 9-1-1 if you
spotted her the first two numbers."  After a laugh, another pointed out
that any cop coming to my apartment would probably arrest me first.  Well,
there was no arguing with that.

   I sat down on the couch to try to get my shit together.  The boys had
left me some beer and a small baggie next to the bong with a bit of weed
still left in it.  The beer wasn't speaking to me but the weed was a friend
and I finished it up.  Realizing I was probably taking my brain the wrong
direction, I grabbed my stash from its place in the kitchen and cut myself
a few lines.

   I stared at the room.  In the edge of my vision I could see the ripples
and flashes that had been a regular part of my reality lately.  On occasion
the floor would develop a little ripple as if made of water, but that was
rare - maybe every half hour or so when I was awake.   The sounds only I
seemed to hear - grinding gears and the occasional whisper - had stopped,
which was good.  Everything was still too bright though.  Way too bright.

   I tried to remember when the last time I'd had anything to eat or drink
and couldn't.   I couldn't remember anything leading up to waking up with
some assholes in my bed.  It was confusing and annoying but past that I
didn't care.  I was just too far gone to give a damn.

   I briefly reviewed my personal situation.  In the last year I had lost
my job, my boyfriend and - after a beating and attempted rape at the hands
of a robber - my confidence.   I had no family to speak of and the quality
of "friends" that I had were well represented by the scum that had just
walked out the door.  The only thing I really owned was my drug habit, a
shitty second hand pc, and an addiction to on-line poker.

   Again, for some reason none of this bothered me particularly.  I decided
to fire up the computer and go on-line for a while.   There was only one
person I really enjoyed talking to or being with anymore and he was someone
I'd never met and probably would never meet, but he played a hell of a
poker hand.   

   Before I sat down, I planned ahead.  I didn't want the bong anymore as
pot made me lose my edge when playing, so I put it away.  I poured myself
just very few lines on a small salad plate to keep my sharp as I played my
on-line cards  (The rest I put away in the stash hidey-hole - as otherwise
I had a tendency to keep snorting and playing for days.)

   I booted up, immediately met me friend and we chatted, taunted each
other with bets and barbs, and played non-stop for maybe 9 hours together
until he told me he had to go to work.

   I was maybe 3 in the morning and I was totally exhausted.   I tried
lying down on my bed but quickly realized it was a giant pool of sweaty
sheets and drying bodily fluids, so instead I went back to the living
room.  I adjusting my curtains a bit so I could see the sunrise, which I
fully expected I would stay awake to see, and lay down on my couch for what
I thought would be a short nap.

   My eyes were so dry they hurt and somewhere in me I realized I was
thirsty.  Again I reflected on when the last time I'd had anything to drink
was, but was just too lazy to stand up and besides, the floor was rippling
again.  I didn't touch the floor when it did that as it scared me to
death.  So I just closed my eyes and drifted off again.

   When I next woke up it was almost a week later and I was in a hospital. 
There were tubes in my arms and a fresh scar across my right hip. 
 Machines monitored my heart and breathing.   I was so disoriented and
heavily drugged that it took me almost two hours to get enough of a grip to
press the button to get the nurses attention. 

   Other than some cops who were waiting for me to be coherent enough to
make a statement, there was no one for the hospital to call when I woke
up.  I called a "girlfriend" who seemed to care while we were on the phone,
but she didn't visit and I never heard from her again.

   I didn't know it then, but that was pretty much the end of my life as I
knew it. 

   From there things would never be the same.