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Survivor Stories

Hi my name is Andre and I'm a survivor of sexual abuse. It all started when I was 3, my mom was dating a new guy, and he seemed pretty nice at first. He would never curse in front of my mother, he would take us places, and stuff like that. Well my mom started letting him stay over at night, and that is when my hell started. I remember one night I got up to go to the bathroom, when I finished he stopped me in the hallway. It was dark and I didn't know what he wanted, I found out, he knelt down and told me to take off my underwear. I did, and he started to rub my penis. He pulled down his sweatpants and started making me rub his penis he told me to suck on it. I didn't want to so I pushed away and he pushed me against the wall and told me to pull up my pants and go to bed.

I was scarred, incidents like this happened many times but I always refused to give him oral sex, until one day after my mom and the monster were married he called me into the bathroom. I went to the bathroom and he grabbed my head and squeezed when I opened my mouth to yell he put his penis in. It was disgusting, I wanted to puke. So in defense, I did what I knew, I bit. He yelled at me and spanked me. At this point, he started making sure he could offend me, he would make me go on boy scout camping trips and he would molest me in the middle of the night when everybody else was asleep. I was so afraid to say something to my mom, I didn't want him to hurt me.

Well to me what he was doing was bad enough, but he had to make it worse. When I was 9, he started to come in to my room in the night when my mom was asleep, and he would start anally, digitally penetrating me. I would always pretend I was sleeping. I remember being so afraid that I would want to put tacks in the doorway so when he tried to get in, he would step on the tacks and go away. All these offenses took place until I was 11. I shared all this when I started my own sex offending treatment. I became the monster I hated so much.

Later I learned how sick he was. He had my mom dress and act like a little boy before sex. He also told her of rape fantasies he had of little boys that he always wanted to fulfill. He also raped my sister. Also, my dad is still free and offending still police won't do anything because it's more then one state involved. That is my story. I've feared people ever since.


well... im 19 years old now. i never really told my story in full and never sought help for what happened to me a year ago. ive spent the last three hours reading other stories and truly, i never felt the same sensation. in a way, it is completely comforting and completely discomforting to see so many others.

so i wont waste any more time. it was the third week of my freshman year in college. it was partytime, homecoming night [dont you love how these all take on the same reflective tone as if we should have prepared ourselves?] and i had had about 8 mixed drinks in an hour, threw up, and kept going for a few more.

my friends went to meet up with some other people and i decided to mingle with other freshmen. i started talking to two attractive boys and they asked if i wanted to hang out in their room and wait for my friends. [always the build up, huh?] i still think, i should have known, drinken less, been more careful. in the room one began kissing me and the other went to leave but i encouraged him to stay because [ugh] i didnt want anything bad to happen. that didnt stop anything.

i was so drunk, i couldnt do much of anything. the first boy gently laid me down on his bed and began taking off my pants. he didnt even bother taking off my underwear, he just went around it. disgusting. i was lying on this bunk bed-- this boy whose name i dont know is suddenly having sex with me-- and all i can think is "weeeeird." he didnt have to hold me down- i couldnt move, i couldnt talk, i couldnt do anything. they were both so drunk and the room smelled putrid. i think the thing that bothers me is that i dont think i made a sound. i mouthed "stop" but i could barely breathe let alone scream. i remember humming a tune in my head and closing my eyes or staring at their ceiling. he got up and left suddenly and told the other one who had been watching to take his turn. the second one came over and it lasted for about ten minutes before i realized what was happening, regained stregnth, and freaked out. i shot up, grabbed my clothes, and staggered out as the second boy whispered "im sorry" over and over.

then i black out. apparently, i found my friends and began sobbing. they carried me to my room and i dove for the shower but my friends dragged me kicking and screaming [literally] to the hospital. i come to in the hospital, where im violated again by tests and tools. terrible. as the two boys were kicking off with the football team [oh yea, they were star jocks, of course] for the big homecoming game, i was being driven back to my room in a squad car.

well, i go to a small private school and the hospital transferred my file to the police who transferred the file to the school. the school has its own policies regarding rape. the biggest violation was the huge cover up that followed. the school threatened to take away my scholarships and kick me out if i said anything. they demanded to know the boys' names. i said i wasnt ready to talk about it yet. they threatened to use my name when questioning the entire football team. they threatened to tell my brother, who went to the school there also. they secretly questioned all of my friends about me. they kicked me out of my room and forced me into the same dorm as the first rapist. and i drank myself stupid.

the dean promised it wouldnt be publicized and three days later RAPE was on the cover of the school newspaper. friends told me about the girl who was raped on campus, not knowing they were looking at her. and i never pursued a legal case.

i didnt blame the boys because i hadnt been held down. i had been drunk-- so had they. i didnt resist. i didnt say no. it wasnt the classic rape. i still have trouble admiting it was rape. in this small private catholic school, usually you can get away with a lot. this had become such a big deal and i had gotten in so much trouble following the incident that they threatened to kick us out for drinking and having sex [against the rules]. in order to stay in school and hide the story, i was forced to talk to the boys to conspire on how to keep us from getting kicked out because of this. i thought i couldnt live with myself if anyone's life but my own was ruined. there was nothing harder than meeting with those boys. and i saved them. and i saved myself [or so i thought]. we stayed in school.

my mother read my journal a year later [this past summer] and found out about the whole ordeal and its aftermath. there had been serious alcohol and drug abuse following. i developed bulemia-- i guess i thought i could throw it all up. she found out about the multiple multiple men i had slept with and messed around with since then [i had never been premiscuous before].

then, in a lovely dramatic turn, i swallowed a bottle full of pills with a beer on the one year anniversary of the rape. i ended up reliving "girl, intrrupted" in a mental hospital for three days and here i am, five weeks later on this site. i was raped by the boys, i was raped by the school, and i raped myself.

september 23rd. 2000. and 2001. i almost died twice. i know this is long. i hope some of you endured. i got a number tonight and i think i will finally call for counseling tomorrow. the first boy is no longer here-- he was rumored to have "taken advantage" of other girls after me, leaving me with a horrible residue. the second i still talk to sometimes in weird, awkward hello's around campus. he is still apologizing.

i feel like ive been looking for someone to tell me what happened was wrong. when i put it down here, i know it is. but to me, it doesnt compare to other stories.

i think of this everyday and every night i lie awake or have nightmares. its five am when im writing this, unable to sleep once again. the whole school knows about it now but many disregard it because i developed such a bad reputation after the fact. i bounced from room to room, waking up in strange places, because i figured it didnt matter anymore. and i put myself in situations where i was unsafe again and again- i never bothered to stop it. every time i had sex with someone new, i was looking for something-- but i dont know what. every time i had sex i felt almost as violated because i didnt want any of it. i created a hell for myself, i punished myself. and i still am punishing myself. i feel as if ive spent the last year and a hlaf looking for solace. im angry and im tired of thinking about it. im tired of it ruling my life and having it right there, in my brain, when everything has to be normal around me. i forgot what the first boy looked like-- and i dream of seeing his faceless figure and beating the shit out of him. i dont want to save him anymore. i want him to know how much he's done to me. and i know its not fair.

however, i think im ready to begin healing. i think im ready to get on with life. i can only relive it so many times in my head. and im angry about what happened to all these other women. and i realize... i realize that i cant change it. and i never will be able to. i just have to move on.

to anyone who doesnt know, it can happen to you and it takes something from you you cant describe. im an excellent student, an outgoing smiling, popular, friendly, pretty girl on campus, im a happy go lucky, partier, funny, exciting-- and normal. probably like one of your friends. i was all these things and i still am, dammit. my friends call me a ray of sunshine. but sometimes its easiest to hide all your dark denial behind a big bright smile.

thanks for listening. this has been a huge step for me. ps i also visited the site and found it helpful


I don't hardly know where to begin. I was married when I was very young. I was no virgin when I married. My husband seemed like a solid, respectable man to me when we were dating. My mom introduced us. He was eleven years older than me. But, who cared? He was fun, intelligent and interesting. I had been dating for a while and had been sexually active for a few years when we decided to get married. We had been dating "exclusively" for only a few months.

We found out I was pregnant 12 days after we were married. I was 20, he was 31. I knew I wanted kids, and thought this was my dream man, so I figured, no problem. We lived in a couple of small apartments over the next months, and he changed jobs a couple of times. I had to give up my job because my boss was afraid I would get hurt, being pregnant. Money was tight and when he got a job offer out of town, we went for it. We moved away from my family and all my friends and into a strange city. I was totally isolated there. I had my baby, my husband and that was all. I used to put on makeup and a nice dress to go to the grocery because that was my big outing for the week.

He stayed out later and later after work. I stayed home and was the "good wife". I took care of our son and the house and cooked meals and did the shopping and bill paying, he worked 40 hours a week and drank and drugged nearly that many hours. But I only suspected the extent of his alcohol and drug problem. I didn't really know.

One night he came home and I was watching TV. He said he wanted sex. I said no. I was not in the mood. Maybe in the morning. He said NO. Not in the morning. NOW. I thought he was being funny, and I went to bed.

He wasn't being funny. He meant that he would have what he wanted NOW. He tackled me on our bed and, since I was in only a nightgown, had no trouble exposing me. He pulled my hair from the back, near the neck where it hurts. He pulled it up and told me to take off his pants. He was hurting me and I was scared. I think I helped him take the pants off.

I distinctly remember him pulling my hair and pushing my face into his crotch. He told me to suck him. He forced me to do it, while pulling my hair and sometimes putting a hand on my throat. I was scared that he would kill me and then no one would take care of my son. I did what he demanded of me. He made ashamed of my body, even while he wanted it. I never understood that.

I figured that it was just part of marriage. I lived with this for years. After that first time, he did it whenever he pleased. Eventually I put a single bed in my son's room and would sleep in there with the door locked to be safe and without him.

I got out eventually, and am now married to another, better, man. But my first husband left scars that have never healed. It is rape, even if you are married. I said no. I fought. He raped me. He was determined to take what he wanted no matter what I said. That makes it rape. And it happened over and over, because I didn"t understand the I had the RIGHT to say "No" even though we were married. I am in a better place now, mentally and emotionally. But I have my scars. I still have a hard time trusting my husband, even though he never did any of these things. I still harbor hate in my soul for this man who does not even deserve that. I am still hoping for the total healing that I believe is possible.

Thanks for listening. Thanks for caring.


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