I was 13 when I got my first boyfriend. The first month was fine and he seemed very innocent. When I was 14, he could become hot-tempered if I didn’t want to watch tv in my room, because I knew that already wanted to do more than I did. My fifteenth birthday was nice. He got to go out for dinner with us and we had a good time. He gifted me a bracelet for my birthday, it wasn’t much but it was something. Then we had a fight and it was about his birthday and that everything was shitty then and that I had always had a good life. I got angry, because I knew better. I had not told him about how often I fought with my parents yet, but that doesn’t matter. So, we got into a fight and he got so angry. I was about to cry and he hit me and then he sat down on the ground and started saying how this was all my fault. I couldn’t do anything, so I sent him home. A week later, I was at a party of his brother’s girlfriend, I went there because we got along well. There was a lot of booze and I decided to make a bet with her, the first one drunk has to treat the others to cake.  Everybody made me drink so much booze that I passed out on the couch. My boyfriend carried me upstairs and proceeded to undress me. I don’t remember a lot, because the night’s a blur. I do remember that I didn’t want to continue doing whatever he wanted to do with me and I told him several times. I woke up with a gigantic headache and saw that all my clothes were gone and there was a condom packet on his nightstand, something was off. I asked what he exactly did to me and he was being weird about it. For example, he told me that I had forced him. I had no clue? The only thing I knew was that he and his friends had gotten me drunk. Two weeks later, we broke up because he had abused another girl.

NO=NO. And I should have defended myself in a much better way. But could I have done something? No.