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Survivor Stories

Hi. My name is Ashley, and I'm 17 years old. I was eight when this happened to me. For the longest time I tried to convince myself that this whole mess was just a dream... some sick dream. I just couldn't do that. I told my best friend Lindsay my story a few months ago. She then practically dragged me to my house and sat there with me as I told my mom. My mom asked if she could tell my sister, because my sister had been sexually abused by her father(we have different fathers) when she was about 3 or 4. My mom made me go to one counseling session, but I didn't want to go back. Lindsay has helped me so much with this, and my sister too. Anyways, up until then, no one knew... except HIM. I told my new boyfriend what happened recently, he has been very supportive.

Well, on with my "story".

When I was little, I went to my Aunt Birdie's house a lot. Birdie is my dad's sister, and I often went over there when he got called into work, or just simply to visit. Birdie had a husband named Kenny, and Kenny had a ten-year-old son... Brent. I met Brent when I was six, and he was eight. We became very good friends, and I spent nearly all my time at my aunt's house with him. For two years, everything seemed fine. We would do everything together, and he would take me to his room and show me his toy race cars, and everything else in his room. I loved his room. I also looked up to Brent.

One night when we were up there, as usual, he started to talk to me about "sex". Me being eight, I had NO idea what sex was yet, so he took the liberty of explaining it to me. "When a man and a woman do this..." and he showed me with his fingers. "This is mine, this is yours..." He even said, "Like in the song called, 'People Are Still Having Sex'," I didn't want to do that, at all. But he kept on begging me, over and over. He literally would NOT leave me alone. Finally, he offered me a toy if I would do it. Even then I knew it wasn't worth it, but Brent just wouldn't leave me alone. So I agreed to it.

At first he just had me take my clothes off. He started touching me there, and told me what he was going to do. He then took his clothes off. After that he waited for me to "open up" he put it. Then he did it to me. Thank goodness he was only ten... it didn't hurt or anything like that, physically anyway... but I was terrified and confused. Afterward, I went to go to the bathroom, and for some reason... it burned.

This wasn't the end. He wanted to do it more and more after this. When he wanted to do it, he would always say quietly, "Hey Ashley... wanna do that one thing?" I would always know just by the "Hey Ashley," part what he was going to say. He had a "special" tone of voice when he wanted that. At first I would refuse, but he would beg and offer me a toy, and I would do it. Eventually I didn't refuse. It was just no use. One time he did it differently, and asked if it "felt good". I lied and said it did. He also said that people should kiss when they do this, but I refused to kiss him. One time he had a friend over. We were in one of the bedrooms upstairs and he told me to go in the closet with him. He then did that little hand gesture to show me what he wanted. HIS FRIEND WAS RIGHT OUTSIDE! I wouldn't let him do it then. One time he had me go on top, but I couldn't do it, so we went back to the usual way. Eventually, he had a "new" way for us to do it, which was anally. That didn! 't hurt either, physically, but it was extremely uncomfortable(Once again, I thank God he was only ten). We only did that one time... but one night I was sleeping over, and we shared a mattress. I woke up to him touching me, and he had his penis out and was rubbing it on my underwear, pretending to put it up my anus. He said he was "just playing around". One time I came over with my dad in broad daylight. I had been swimming, so I had my bathing suit on. Brent asked me to go outback with him. He wanted me to take my bathing suit off so we could do it outside. We were behind some wooden boards, but my dad and cousin were right inside! I kept saying no, but he kept begging, so I took it off. In the middle of it, my cousin called us, so I screamed, and hurried and got my suit back on. She never knew what happened. One time he even used one of his brother's condoms. He said it was "so that the guy won't get germs on the girl". It was very loose on him, so eventually he took it off! and burried it in the trash can.

One day while he was waiting for me to "open up", he was showing me how he tried to do this to another girl a long time ago, but he put in in the wrong place. He physically showed me, it was above my vagina. I didn't think anything of it then, but now I'm convinced that HE was sexually abused by someone. He even told me about how he grabbed a teenage girl when he was five.

After a while it stopped(I think I was still eight when it stopped, maybe nine), and he gradually stopped talking to me. The last time I saw him was two years ago, and I'm worried about what would happen if he found out I told. He's nineteen now, and I don't know what he would do to me.

While all this was happening, I became a tomboy, and even cut off all my hair when I was ten. When I was eleven I grew out of the tomboy stage, but I'm sure that THAT was the reason I became like that for two years. I know my story is unusual because Brent was just a kid, but he still knew what he was doing, and knew I kept saying "NO". He never bothered to apologize for it later. He's scum now, he's been in jail a few times. My uncle died of AIDS when I was ten, and when I learned how people got AIDS, I was scared for a long time that I had it. But later I learned that Brent hadn't hit puberty when this happened, so I was relieved. I thought it was my fault, and prayed for forgiveness. Everyone I told keeps saying it's NOT MY FAULT... and I think that I'm beginning to blame myself less and less every day.

Thank you for reading my story, and I feel for you if you are a rape or sexual abuse survivor. I also apologize if some of the content was a little graphic.


I'm the middle of five sisters, and the only one who was raped by our mother's live-in boyfriend. The most difficult thing for me has not been the abuse, or the therapy, or the personal trauma, but the pain of my family rejecting ME and not HIM.

I was 12 when the abuse started and every few months it would escalate, almost like he would get bored of inflicting one sex act on me and would find something else to do to me. I lived in complete terror for three years, never even considering telling someone. When I finally told my mother, she slapped me, the got my sisters into the room and said "Listen to what your sister is claiming! You tell her..." Prompted by her they all turned against me, saying that, basically, I must be lying or screwed up because why would he do it to me while never to them? I have since found out that this is often the case in families, the abuser will single out one person.

What I don't understand is why my family chooses to protect and stand behind this person who did this to me, and dismiss any possibility that he did this to me.

I was raped for the last time when I was 16, and I went to a crisis center and had a rape kit done on me. This did not help prove to anyone that he did this to me, my mother even said "After all the ugly things you've made up I wouldn't be surprised if you went and had sex so you would have 'proof' to hold up your lies." She was that willing to find any reason to dismiss me.

I went to live with my father. I wish I could have done that when all this started, but my mother kept me from knowing where he was or how to locate him, after their divorce. I'm now 19 years old. My two older sisters do not have anything to do with me, even though they are out of our mother's house now. I had hoped that once they got away from that situation they would be more willing to think for themselves about this.

My younger sisters are 12 and 14, both are the age that I was when I was being abused. When I removed myself from the situation, did he choose another victim? I feel that I am a SURVIVOR now, but the rapes might still be going on, if his abuse did not end with me.


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