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  • Writer's pictureAgnes wohl

SEATTLE

In 2006 I was roofied, raped, and left for dead in a bathtub filled with ice-cold water that ran over the tub, out into the hall. It seeped into the floor and caused extensive water damage. I was visiting my aunt and uncle in Seattle as a graduation present.

They were also my godparents. I was hanging out w/ my cousin who was a senior about to graduate. He invited a couple of friends over to hang. I was a lot older. We watched ‘Are You Afraid of The Dark’ on TV. I’ll leave out what little I remember between then and being shocked awake by my aunt.

I was not given any aid by her after she hoisted my completely numb body from the tub, with the cold rap still running. I was left alone to vomit until my throat was raw and I was dry heaving bile. No rape kit. My aunt had formerly been an RN and my uncle had been the goddamn motherfucking CEO for Harborview Medical Center, Seattle—the premier trauma center for the PNW.

Of the many things that were notable about that night is that I had only had one drink. A small orange and vodka, very enthusiastically prepared by my cousins buddy—who happened to be the son of one of the Hospitals top surgeons. Smart kid—so friendly! Great athlete. Crept down hall into the guest room to which I had retreated to figure out wtf was going on with my sensory perception. He quietly shut the door and sat down on the carpet x-legged face to face with me, entirely too close.

I was swaying as I sat. I had Looney Tune-esque depth perception. He leaned in closer smiling with very bright teeth, “Aaarrrreeee yoouuuuu okaaaaayyyy?” When I opened my mouth to speak I couldn’t understand my own words, and he chuckled. The last thing I remember is saying something to the effect of, “Let’s get you comfortable.” I woke up to a very brightly lit, freezing, aching, and deeply lonely Hell.

The last day before I flew out, I was basically forced to go out on a goddamn boat with the same group of hs boys + their girlfriends. I was in complete shock and do t remember most of that day, or the flight home. A cruel societal stunt to maintain the illusion of impropriety. I hid, green, under what canopy shade I could find.

My aunt had searched my bags while I was vomiting myself into a hoarse rasp eventually voice loss. She had “found” some homeopathic kava kava I brought with, probably right on top w some B12. I was not on any other meds at the time. No my blood or urine was never tested. The kava kava exposé was revealed in a letter to my parents. So shocking. On to the correspondence…

As soon as I arrived back at my parents, we sat down and I mapped out every step of that evening, etc. my parents are loving and very supportive. I am lucky. They are not wealthy, however. Unlike my “godparents”. We wrote them a letter containing the facts as I remembered them, and a timeline basically to the minute of the hour and a half preceding the onset of the first throb of disorientation.

I remember feeling exhausted that night, hanging out and watching Are You Afraid of The Dark with a bunch of rich high school bros. I was 21 and had just graduated from RISD. I was having a nostalgic lark w a bunch of kids, who I honestly felt I was babysitting, and that night I almost died. I wonder if this young man had been taking me on a drug trial test run before prom.A young man with so much promise, much like the scads of other “promising young men”—I’m sure u know the trope.

I could have drowned, choked on my vomit…the first thing I remember after seeing my aunts face was my shit floating on the bathroom floor, as well as my balled up panties. Over the ensuing days the bruises appeared. I think the dissociation due to shock was the only saving grace at that time that alleviated the pain somewhat, as I was not inhabiting my body. If I was still aching between my legs, I can’t imagine how

much physical pain I was actually in. And to be on that fucking boat…that this rapist owned, courtesy of doctor dad.

There is no moral to this story. Definitive, acute, immorality. My well being was an afterthought, by the people I loved and trusted, in the face of potential scandal. A CEO of Harbor-view. In his own home. His goddaughter almost gone from exposure and fuck knows what else in the tub that night. I attended my cousins wedding, solely bc he showed me compassion for bringing fluids non stop as I spent my AM, afternoon and PM on my hands knees locked in the tiny detached toilet “room”

No rape kit, cold shoulder, silent treatment for remainder of trip. The next time I see either of them it will be by their deathbeds or graves. And I do look forward to that. They aided and abetted a violent crime in their own home.

I could have added a trigger warning or whatever but I am sharing this publicly for the first time. My story is not unique. At all. It is a universal story. A drop in the bucket.

So all in all, watch your fucking beverages wherever you go, and if someone tries to silence you with power and influence—scream as loud as u fucking can. I never jumped on the Me Too wagon bc I coincidentally survived a early childhood punctuated by sexual abuse. So…

I’ll say it now; 1. Me too 2. Me too 3. Me too. 4. Me too. 5. Me too 6. Me too——what’s incredible is that my childhood was also a happy one. Amazing what the gymnastics the brain can do to help you survive. If you have experienced domestic violence, rape, coercion…TELL SOMEONE. If they discredit you, tell someone else. You are FAR from alone.

I send you love and support in solidarity.

Anonymous

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