They even warn you…

When I am 20 and attending a good university in Indiana, my boyfriend of a few months and I are in my dorm room – yes, I do invite him in. We are engaged in some heavy making-out, but nothing more than that. ( I am a good girl, at that time in my life ).

Still, a few days into our relationship, he warns me – but I do not hear his words as a warning. He says, “Jane, I got a white girl pregnant in my hometown. I did it on purpose. I just love my little boy. I don’t get to see him very often.” He is dark and handsome and his eyes are warm when he says this. I look at him like the idiot I am.

In my dorm room, he asks me if I’ll wear a dress to bed. A dress? To bed? 

Sure thing. Why not? We aren’t going to be having sex, after all. We’re just going to go to sleep. It’s late and he’s tired and…

Now, before you condemn me… I didn’t put on a dress, but I did wear a night-gown rather than pajamas…

Over the years, I condemn myself over and over and over and over again…

I do not acknowledge that I am raped that same night until I write IN THE SEVENTH DAY.

After writing the novel, it begins to hit me that I awake in the middle of the night as a young man I trust is raping me.

His behavior is:

Premeditated and beyond conscience.

I finally forgive myself for being stupid and for not hearing his warning. They do warn you…