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Survivor Stories

I've shared my story with so few people. I'm finding it helps to talk, but there aren't many people that I can tell. I hope sharing here helps me to move on. I'm stuck where I'm at and I don't seem to be making any progress.

My story started when I was 14. I was young, too young, I know now- but I didn't know then. I was young and naive. But it still shouldn't have happened. I spent so long blaming myself. And still it hurts others in my life.

When I was 14, I used to tell my parents that I was spending the weekend at a friends, and they accepted that. I got straight A's, I was responsible (or so they thought) and they trusted me. A couple of friends covered for me, and I snuck off to another town with other "friends" who were much older then me.

To start with I stayed with a female friend, Sadie... then I started seeing this guy, Rio. He was older than me. He was 24 at the time, and knew so much more then me, so worldly... and I had such a low self esteem... I couldn't believe such a cool guy wanted me.

It wasn't long and I was sleeping with him. The first time with him was fantastic... he was so gentle and everything was wonderful... it went downhill so fast from there it's crazy. He abused me, mentally and physically. Often he was taking this drug or that, and when he was, things were worse. I was no good. I was a slut. (never mind he was my first.) I wasn't good enough at sex for him. He'd force me to give him a blow job, and then beat me because it wasn't good enough. I'd end up in tears.

I spent all of that spring in long sleeved shirts, he was always careful to only leave bruises where clothes could cover them. My instints to cower and agree and do as he wished sharpened.

Something changed in me and I realized I had to get out. It was going to destroy me. But I was so afraid, and my self-image so low... finally I found the courage to break things off with him. Since I had no way home til the end of the weekend (this being a Friday evening) I planned to stay at Sadies the rest of the weekend. I broke things off, he said fine... I couldn't believe I'd done it... I was alone and afraid. He was my first love and I loved him.

Foolishly I got drunk that night, and ended up in bed with him again. Going back on my word and what I'd said I wanted. I think he was gentler with me that night... he certainly made promises he would be... I was too drunk to remember.

The next day dawned bright and it showed me what a fool I was... I went to his house and told him I was sorry, I just couldn't continue the relationship... that I was sorry about the night before. He seemed to accept that and I was relieved. I went back to Sadie's to spend a quiet evening, since she was going out.

I still thank God his friends listened to his drunk and stoned mutterings. At the bar he kept saying what he was going to do to me... thank God after he left and headed to where I was, they realized he was dead serious.

I was alone in the house, and he came in, totally out of control. I had the music up loud, and I never knew he was there til threw me up against the wall. He tore my shirt, he tore my shorts... I was screaming and crying and fighting him. Telling him to stop. Doing everything I hadn't the night before. I managed to scratch his face, saw blood run down his cheek. That earned me more bruises, more pain... I was terrified. He was so much bigger then me... he weighed twice what I did, and was well over a foot taller.

I don't know if the drugs made him slower, or he thought he had lots of time since he could so easily overpower me, or what... but it felt like years went by as he lay on top of me, bruising my mouth with forced kisses as I tried to turn my head away and he pulled my hair to control my movement. I was trapped.

I can still see and feel everything as clearly as the night it happened. Just as he was about to penetrate me, the door burst open, people were yelling and pulling him off of me. He tried to fight them, too, and then finally left. I was wrapped in a blanket, and talked to by one of his friends. Told me not to tell anyone, that I was all right since he hadn't actually raped me (although I could have used the services of the emergency room, I was pretty badly beaten up), that they'd make sure he stayed away from me... I left the next day and I never went back.

I went home and used makeup to cover the bruises. No one noticed how stiffly I moved. Life moved on, and I with it.

A year later I met someone new, another older guy. He was 20 when I met him, and I liked him. I was so afraid of him, though. A kiss scared me. He wanted things to be serious, and I broke them off- again and again. He stuck around, said he wanted to be my friend, even if he wasn't my boyfriend... and I started to trust. A little. A few months later we started out watching cartoon, ended up with very little clothing left on, and with him naked and erect and laying on me in bed, I froze up. And said no, I couldn't do it. We lay there quite a while, with him asking me if I sure, didn't I want him... and I said I couldn't. He backed off, and just held me, and let me cry. I couldn't tell him my story then, and he didn't ask. Eventually we broke up, but he's still my friend to this day.

Early the next year (almost 16 at this point) I started dating Shawn, my best friend. He was so patient with me. I wanted him, but I was so afraid. And he could tell I was afraid. He's the one who got me to talk. The first person I told any of this to. I could handle a kiss, but didn't want his hands on me... and the weight of him laying on me was unbearable. I would panic. I ducked for no reason at all.

We'd talk, lying on the bed, late into the night. I always enjoyed being tickled, and for some reason that was all right- that didn't scare me.If he ticked me enough, I would relax enough to let his arms drift around me. Eventually I could bear and then even enjoy caresses on my breasts, my thighs, and then more intimate places. We discovered I could handle "dry" sex, clothes on... as long as I wasn't held down... I had to know he would let me go if I just said so.

One night we came to the same point as I had with the previous boyfriend. Both naked, him ready and willing, but caring enough about me that when I said I still wasn't ready, he begged me to change my mind, but he didn't force me to. He was disappointed, and so was I, but he understood.

I used to say that maybe it would have been better if Rio had raped me... then at least I would have know what I was afraid of. I tempted fate and told Shawn that if he pushed me a little, or forced me just a little, I'd probably give in and be all right... I knew how much he wanted sex with me. But he wanted my trust more, and he knew that if he had pressured me or forced me, even a tiny bit, it would have destroyed the trust I had for him.

A few weeks later, during a heavy make-out session, I said his name, and he was like, I know, you want me to stop, and I was finally able to say no, that's not it at all, I wanted him, all of him. And it was wonderful. But I never would have reached that point without his patience. It took a long time later before I could have oral sex... it has to be totally voluntary on my part... the quickest way to freak me out if to have someone pushing on my head, the first thing that brings to mind is being beat up and I flip out. And I'm still insecure about it.

I dated another guy, Rob, at one point when Shawn and I were split up. (I was 18 at this time.) I was open with him about my prior bad experience from the start. I thought he understood not to try to confine me. Still, one night he didn't want to let me get out of the car. Held the door and kept kissing me, pressing me back against the seat. Promptly let go in confusion and apologies when I burst into tears. Eventually spent a night in bed with him, but I was just so afraid I couldn't continue the relationship... I just couldn't trust him enough.

Shawn and I dated more, eventually married, had children... now we've been split up for a while, with occasional good sex between us... right now we're both seeing other people.

The guy I've been with is nice, and I've been open with him about my fear, but I just don't think he really understands. I don't know. He asks me if I trust him, if I think he's hurt me, and I have to say, no, he wouldn't. But why am I still afraid of him? I expect sex to be painful, rushed, with me not ready, and I accept that... with everyone but my ex. The guy I'm with now respects it if I say no, and doesn't even ask me to change my mind. Why am I still afraid? How can I move past this?

Right now I don't even want sex because of my fear. I'm afraid to let him have that power over me. I don't know how to talk to him about it. He doesn't ask any questions. I don't think he even realizes that this is a lot of what I'm hung up on at the moment... that I don't mind much the idea of sex with a guy I trust, since my husband and I are split, but that I'm afraid to.

To me it seems like I would look foolish, since it's been years. It's been 10 years, almost to the day right now. But it has left it's mark on me. It seems to me like the only way I might be able to trust is to get him to talk with me about it, but how can I get him to? If I mention it, he says nothing at all.


I am 13 years old now. I have no trust in my father anymore and i can never go through a day without thinking- what if that was me? My father molested my stepsister and my mom's ex boyfriend abused my like my stepmother did and my grandmother. I will always think of those earlier years in my life that were mistreated so much. My dad and I will never share a close bond like we did before. Lets get to my story;

I used to go to my dad's when it was his time to take me. He was married to Beth and i was the middle child. My older stepsister Becky and my younger stepbrother Matt were sex-obsessed. They would act like they were having sex but they never actually did. I always knew that my dad was kind of by Beth. Anyways, I was spending the night over at their house when my mom came and picked me up. Right away i knew from the bottom of my heart something bad was going to happen. Like i expected something did happen. Very bad. Beth left a few minutes after i left to go to the store or something. Matt was lost in his own world at that time. Becky and my dad were the only ones left in the other side of the house. My dad finally snapped and molested Becky that day. Beth came home later that evening and saw it. It was hard knowing my dad did that. I know Becky, Beth or Matt werent perfect but still. Matt used to crawl on top of me and try to make me follow him but i stood my ground. My dad ne! ver understood and Beth would always blame me for whatever came up. I would get abused by Beth physically and mentally. Beth used to lock ym dad out of thier house when they got into fights and i would go outside and try to make things better. Becky never did anything to me. She was 13 when i was 7 and Matt was a few months younger then me. My mom came and picked me up by instict like but it never got me away from the pain and torture i went through. I never got to see Becky or Matt or Beth ever again. I missed Becky and felt like i knew what she went through. I kind of did. After that night i never could face my dad until I had to through counseling. I was sent to counsiling with my dad and alone sometimes but it never helped me. I was afraid for Becky and wondered how they were doing. I remembered all the good times we had but it always came to My dad's mistake. I will always think of God as my guider and thank my mother with all of ym heart for getting me out of that house.

My mom's ex. boyfriend Troy used to abuse both me and my mother. It was amazing how much she put up with and how strong she was for the both of us. Troy used to choke her and sometimes me and slap me right across the face for no reason. My mom finally broke up with him months later and we never saw him again. He is now is prison somewhere near a desert and I hope i never see him ever again.

My dad's mother used to abuse me as well. I was never black and blue as some of the stories i have heard but it was bad. i remember being as a baseball game and her dragging me to the public bathrooms. Then she would start hitting me on my backside and everywhere. I cried until I went home and cried some more. I am so thankful for my mother in so many ways i can imagine. She pulled me away from my supposed grandmother and pulled us away from her evil ex boyfriend. I thank Gosd and my mother from the bottom of my heart for pulling me to safety and i hope God is there for all of you. My grandmother died a few years ago and I sometimes see my dad. He is getting married in late June. I am so glad my mother and God camr ot my rescue. I am not taking counsiling but will very shortly. I give hope and faith to everyone that is reading my story now. Thank you

im: nicks_chic201

it was when i was 9, the first time. my uncle led me up into his bedroom after "hill street blues" had ended and told me to take off my panties, which i did. i was wearing only a blue shirt that said some dumb saying on it: "there are two types of music, rock and roll." he had me lay down on the bed, so i laid on the edge b/c that usually meant that i would have to get oral sex. but he said no, lay down more in the center, so i did, but i didn't know what for.

he only had some tan shorts on, and he turned off the light. i could hear him taking them off, then he laid down next to me. he smoothed my hair back and asked if i loved him. i said yes. then he asked if i thought he would ever hurt me, if i trusted him, if i was afraid. i answered what he wanted to hear on all three, regardless what i really thought. he'd been drinking and i knew he could be irrational at times. so he started kissing me, and i laid there very stiff as he pulled himself on top of me. he supported himself with his elbows and held my upper arms with his hands and spread my legs with his knees. i could feel it all hard and poking me, stabbing at me and i started shaking, b/c he said he wouldn't make me give it up till i was 14, and i wondered if he remembered that. but i couldn't talk, he was still kissing me, very rough and he hadn't shaved and his cheeks were chafing me.

he started mumbling about not to be afraid, and he thrusted a few times, but it didn't go in, then he let go of one arm and manually guided himself. after he got part of the way in, which felt akin to an indian rub burn, he suddenly very quickly thrust all the way in, and grunted. he started shaking and i remember thinking that maybe sex hurt men too, b/c i had started this weird, silent hysterical crying. i was in too much pain to let sound come out. he kept it up, slowly at first, pausing between each thrust, and he would grunt as he pushed forward then sigh in between. he started sweating, and it felt really greasy, and there was this seasick rocking motion that just terrifies me to think about. after awhile, he hoisted my body up and wrapped my legs around his hips and went for deep, and it felt like my hips were separating and i felt like i was torn inside. i still get that raw bruised feeling inside when i get flashbacks, and my hips still pop out of socket if i stretch too far. his weight was suffocating me. there was just that disgusting, sweaty rocking motion, and the pain, and the dark. i hate the dark. and when it was over he said he was sorry for making me cry, and he had me put my panties back on and clean myself up in the bathroom downstairs. it hurt to walk, it hurt all over. in the bathroom i saw that my panties were bloody and i cleaned all the blood & semen off myself and then threw them away in the trashcan in the garage. then i went into my room and laid down, and tried not to throw up.

it continued nightly for the next couple months, until my sister walked in on us kissing, and she told my mom. no one knew any more than the fondling, till i started therapy in september. i finally told my mom last month. :-) thanks for letting have an outlet to get this out...

Sulekhi Nambiet
icq: 109851707

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