𝐒𝚻𝚫𝐂𝚺𝚿

We Are All Jane Doe. Here Is My Story. When I was 14, a boy a couple of years older than me, whom I didn't know or really speak to, secretly slipped a roofie into my water bottle at school. This happened during an extracurricular class where the teacher wasn't always around. Some of the students would sometimes be outside, while others would be downstairs in the school. What I remember is sitting at my desk, drinking my water, and then passing out. For the longest time, that was all I could remember before waking up on a school bus with him on top of me, trying to take my pants off. The bus wasn't being driven; it was parked on the side of the school. Years later, after beginning to recover some of these memories and doing the work to process my trauma, I started remembering bits and pieces of him carrying me from the classroom, taking me outside, and pulling me onto the bus. When I woke up and realized he was trying to take my pants off, I fought back, and he ran away. I am so grateful that I woke up before he could rape me. I still don't know how he managed to put the drug in my water, and that is concerning.🤺