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Survivor Stories

Hi... my name is Jenny. I was raped in April 1999.

One night I decided to go out with a friend, Sarah. A guy who I had previously been involved with invited us to his band practice. I had told him that I didn't want a physical relationship with him because he was too forceful. So he told me we could just be friends.

Sarah had been trying to get some pills. I still don't know what they were. She told me they would give me a light body buzz. I guess she had all ready talked to him about getting them. Well, I took a pill, and the last thing I remember was Sarah leaning over to kiss me. When I woke up the next morning I was laying naked in his bed. All I know is what they both told me. He had had sex with me. Sarah had had sex with me . And worst of all he video taped it.

After that I started skipping school a lot. I hated myself . I felt like it was my fault. People found out and were making fun of me and calling me slut. I was so depressed that my whole life seemed meaningless. One night I decided I could take it no more. I tried to kill myself.

My father found me. It broke his heart , I told him everything. I got counseling for a month. And I dropped out of school. I'm back in school now. I have a job and my friends. But I still don't forgive myself. I'm still healing and I feel like my wounds are just getting wider and deeper.

For anyone who reads this.... I will talk to you if you need me. I can't believe I finally found some release. Thank you for reading and understanding my story. I know I'm not alone. Another Survivor 10-8-99


I am a 14 year old supposed survivor. I guess I must be still alive, whatever my alternate says to me. My abuse started at the age of 7, when my natural father was jailed and my mum divorced and remarried.

This man, whom I was expected to call father, raped me at least once a night for months and months, until my alternate, Ariel, first spoke to me. She told me to swallow the drain cleaner and I did. My stepfather couldn't touch me while I was in the hospital, but as soon as I was home again, it continued.

I was sexually abused off and on until my 8th grade year, when things suddenly began getting better. I made friends; I played on the soccer team. One night, when a friend's elder brother was giving me a ride home from a game, he pulled into a dark alley and raped me. From there, I was downhill.

The summer between 8th grade and freshman year, I worked at a camp, where I befriended an older counselor who was a budding alcoholic. One night when she had time off, she took me to a small club. She got drunk, and while she was in the bathroom, I was *escorted* out of the club and into another dark alley by five college guys, where I was raped repeatedly. The next day, I took two boxes of Benadryl.

My freshman year, a boy at my church dragged me into the bathroom at a youth group meeting and forced me to have oral sex with him.

I am now a sophomore. I am anorexic, depressed, DID, an insomniac, and I am HIV positive. I am lost. I still wonder, most of the time, whether I really did survive.


I really don't know where to start with this...but I know I have to say something. I've been so silent for so long. not many people know, and even those who know don't know everything. even I don't know everything, just bits and pieces.

well I guess the abuse started around when I was 4. that's when my earliest memory was, but it doesn't seem like It was the first time. It's like, when I get back In that moment, I know I felt like It had happened before. so maybe I was 3 when he started. maybe I had been abused since the moment I was born. It's one of those things...It became such a daily occurrence that it seemed "natural" to me, at the time.

well the earliest memory of him (he was a babysitter that was a good friend of my father) was when I was about 4, I guess. he had to bathe me, cuss he was baby-sitting me overnight. and I remember not wanting to take my clothes off in front of him. and then he made me take off my clothes and stand on the vanity sink in my bathroom and stare at the mirror reflection of me, naked. that was my punishment for rebelling. from where I was standing, the floor was frighteningly far down. I was scared to jump.

he dissected my body, verbally. "oh your nose is so ugly....blah blah" and I tried to close my eyes, but he turned on the hot water and let it run until It was sparingly hot, and sprinkled some on my head and feet. Then he pulled my hair a bit, and he was mumbling stuff, well I was tuning him out anyway, and I tried to scream, and then he slapped me. I think that may have been the first time I had ever felt acute pain. then after about 20 minutes, he picked me up off of the vanity, and let me down on the ground.

he proceeded to bathe me. I was sitting In the tub, facing him. he reached his hand in, and splashed some soapy water on me. so I splashed him back. thus began a splashing war, which lasted about a minute. we were both sort of laughing. Well he was, then I started laughing. I guess I kind of found it funny. I didn't really understand what was happening. then he picked me up by my armpits out of the bathtub, and lifted me sort of high in the air and swung me around, as normal sane people do with little children. It's like, whoa flying through air. but the bathroom was small (still is), and I hit my head on the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. ouch.

I screamed and he put me down and dried me off. his clothes were soaked. he dressed me. we laughed and went out to the kitchen to have iced cream. he threatened that if I ever told my parents about what had happened in the bathroom, that they wouldn't understand. I didn't know what he meant, but I didn't tell. I didn't know any better.

the next memory I have is about two weeks after that. we were sitting in my brothers room watching jeremy (my brother) play Nintendo. then he (baby-sitter) said "let's go play with dolls" or something to that effect. so we went into my room and I showed him my My Little Pony dolls. I used to love them. I couldn't stand Barbie dolls for the longest time. I had my little ponies in just about every color imaginable. I had the fuzzy ones. I had the ones with wings.

he picked a few of them, and led me into my parents room. he shut and locked the door behind us. he put the ponies down on my parents bed and sat down next to them. he motioned me to sit on the bed. he asked me if I knew where my parents kept their money. I told him, I dunno. I sat on the floor, next to the door. I asked him why he locked it. he looked at me, then looked away. "oh it doesn't matter" or something to that effect.

I got on my knees and crawled over to a different part of the bed then he was sitting on. I used to crawl a lot. It wasn't because I couldn't walk. I just didn't like to, I guess. all of a sudden, he got extremely angry and threw the horses under the bed. I had to go get them. I was still kind scared of monsters under beds and In closets, but really, it was at that moment that I realized that the worst monsters were the ones that were people. I still believe that.

when I finally had retrieved the last pony from under the bed, I sat in a corner, under a window. he told me to face the wall. I shook my head no. he said "face the wall, you fucking bitch". I didn't know what those words were. It was all gobbledygook to me. finally, he came over to me and picked me up and physically pushed me to face the wall. I wanted to scream at him, but I remembered my brother was playing his Nintendo games In the room next to me so I kept quiet. I didn't want him losing his game on account of me. he'd be royally pissed, like he always was when I caused him to lose concentration.

the next memory was the day after that, this was a Thursday. I don't know how I remember, I just do. I had come home from preschool, and there was some thing I made that was on the kitchen table. he looked at it, and said "oh it's so pretty. such a shame that the artist is so ugly" or something to that effect. I cried. I wanted him to like me. and yet he didn't. I ran into my room and cried.

he followed me and rubbed my back as I lay on my bed sobbing. he ran his hand up the back of shirt, rubbing my back. I rolled over In bed, away from him and out of his reach. he picked me up off the bed, and brought me to my parents room. he locked the door again. he put me down on the bed and let me sob while running his hand up the back of my shirt. then he started moving his hand down the back of my pants, so he was rubbing my butt. he lay down next to me and put his arms around me, breathing Into my hair and left ear, making it feel moist with every breath he took. he began rocking back and forth and singing some type of lullaby.

when I finished sobbing, he asked me if I had ever kissed a boy before. I said no. he asked if I were a teenage girl, would I want to kiss him? and I said no. and this made him angry. "I wouldn't kiss you either!!" and smacked me. so I was like um yah fine kiss me. and he did. mind you, he was about 40 years old at the time. I was 4. sick sick sick sick. I was depruded by a pedophile.

another memory was a week after that. I forgot exactly what had set him off, but something had. and he was very angry. he took me into my parents room and locked the door, as usual. this had now been an established ritual. he would sometimes go to check to make sure the door was locked. multiple times. but anyways, at this point he wanted to see me naked. so he could say how ugly I was. I took off my clothing, as usual.

he began to do his usual thing, which was touching, fingering (sticking his fingers in my vagina), and kissing. he liked kissing. he decided that I wasn't doing enough in our relationship. he told me to suck his dick. I said no. I didn't know what a dick was. he told me. then he showed me. and he told me to suck, but don't swallow. then he said it was a good skill to learn in case I ever needed to steal gasoline from someone else's car. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but now I do.

this was the first time I had ever seen his dick, or any dick, for that matter. I felt very betrayed by my parents for not telling me about this stuff. even my brother. I kind of became obsessed with this idea that men had dicks. It was really strange. he thought I was being funny and laughed a lot. I did too, sort of. after that, I basically went through the routine every time he sat for me. he sat for me about three days a week. It varied which days they were, but they were always during the week (as opposed to weekend).

during the summer, he didn't sit for me and my brother, but he dropped by a few times and said hi. I always smiled and ran over to hug him. I liked him. he was the first man I ever knew who had a dick that I'd seen and played with. It was like a new toy or something. when the school year began again, I was in kindergarten. he sat for shorter periods of time, cuz I was In school until 3 PM.

for the first few times he sat for me after the summer, he didn't do anything. he didn't show up at my birthday party, and I was disappointed. I convinced myself that nothing had happened, and this whole thing about men having dicks was just a silly little notion.

I'm getting really scared now. I don't want to be In a room by myself at the moment. I'm starting to get more into the flashbacks. I'm trying to just write about them as I'm seeing them.

well anyway, the next time he did stuff to me was about 2 weeks after summer. I've always been such a bad judge of time. well since he sat for shorter periods of time, most of the time he spent at my house was with me in my parents room. by now, he had discovered where my parents kept their money and routinely stole $3 every time he sat. he'd give me $1 each time afterwards. I never spent this money, until 2 years ago when I bought my guitar.

well he used to give me 50 cents for the blow job, 10 cents for being quiet, and a 40 cent tip. It became a thing where I was "earning money." he thought he was doing a good thing for me. he said all boyfriends give their girlfriends money and whatever they want. I asked him for a ring. he bought me a small plastic pink unicorn ring. I used to wear it every day until I was 9.

he asked me If I liked boys in my class. I said no, they were stupid, and acted like they didn't have dicks. we both laughed at that. I asked him If he liked boys. he said no. that's gay and being gay was bad. I didn't know what gay meant so I just sort of smiled and pretended I knew what he was talking about. he loved to try to impress me with big words and strange concepts.

around this time, I made a very close friend named matt. he went to my school for about 2 months, but had to transfer out because people were making fun of him cuz his father was gay. I asked him what he thought. he told me that his father likes who he likes, and other people didn't have to bother him about it. he told me that people would throw rocks at them. people were making fun of him, so I stood up for matt. they started making fun of me, how I was dressed, and how I spoke. they called me fat and ugly and gay. matt yelled at them again.

I started crying. he was talking to me, and telling me that they were just stupid, and to ignore them. and I just cried a lot. I told matt that I had a boyfriend and that he was a lot older than I was. I asked matt If he liked boys. I made the mistake of telling him (the babysitter)about matt. he became extremely jealous. one day, matt came over when He was there. and I was yelling at my brother to let us play nintendo. he said no.

matt and I went to his house. he lived a block away from me. I met his father. he was really nice and made us both peanut butter sandwiches. he asked me what did I think of school. I said I hated it. he asked what did I think of my parents? I said I didn't know them well. matt later told me that his father suspected I was being abused. I had a bruise on my arm from where He had grabbed me. matt's dad asked what it was. I told him I must have run into something.

matt and I played video games. I liked his house. He was really jealous of matt and tried to make me hate him. he told me that matt was a bad person. he asked me If I had ever sucked matt's dick. I said no. I didn't want to.(I still don't want to! no offense, matt) one day he thought up the idea that he would stick his dick In my anus. I didn't want to, but he said please, so I had to let him. or so he said. he came, inside of me. I went into the bathroom and tried to wipe it out, didn't work.

I had trouble sitting down a lot afterwards. It hurt. I didn't scream though. he gave me all the $3 afterwards this time. we brushed our teeth together. he kissed me a lot. he told me that I was a good girl and that he didn't lock the door because he didn't want me to run out, but because he didn't want my brother to come in. once, during one of our sessions, my brother left his room to go the bathroom. I remember being naked, lying on my parents' bed, and him, with his mouth at my neck ,barely breathing, waiting for my brother to go back into his room.

there are noises in the basement. I'm scared. I'm excessively scared. I want to kill myself. I want to die now. I think something's gonna creep under this chair and bite my feet off. I'm very scared. I'm getting tired now. I don't want to type. I'm forcing myself to do this. but I don't want to!! all of a sudden I want to shut up. maybe this is nobody's business. ah fucking headaches. I must go on...

well I ate a lot starting then. I just decided I liked food a lot and ate a lot. I became fat. I still am. he didn't like how my body looked. he started making me touch my toes 20 times because he wanted me to lose weight. he began to tell me about his wife, and how he was having problems with her. why she was bad, how she was controlling his life, and forcing him to be someone he didn't want to be.

I told him to leave her. he said he'd leave her as soon as I'd run away with him. I said no. he said, then I won't leave her. I asked him If she slept with him. he said, sometimes. but she's not as good as you. I glowed!! at school, I was still getting made fun of a lot. with matt no longer at the school, it was really bad. I started going to his house a lot. I asked him If he had ever kissed a girl. he said no. so I asked him If I could kiss him. he said yes, and we kissed. he blushed a bit afterwards.

matt and his father were the only positive things In my life. I rarely ever talked to my parents or my brother. the only people that paid attention to me were Him, matt, and matt's dad. I didn't talk much to anyone else. one day matt's dad pulled me aside and explained what abuse was. he told me that If I was being abused, or knew any who was being abused, to tell him, a parent or a teacher. I told him that I didn't understand what abuse was.

he called my parents and asked them stuff. I'm not sure exactly what he said, but it was something to the effect of "your daughter seems depressed". my father yelled at me for acting weird. I ran into my room and cried and wished He was there to stand up for me. He became my hero. like my ideal person, this type of person who would stop the people in school from making fun of me. I built him up in my head to be such a great person.

I didn't tell much about Him to matt. He was my personal secret. It was all very exciting to look around the playground at all the people that started stuff with me to think that I had a boyfriend who was my superhero. I told him that my father was abusing me (physically). he told me that If my father ever tried to touch me In the way that He touched me, to tell Him, and He'd make sure that my father got his just desserts.

one day he brought a magazine with naked people in it. there was mostly nude blonde "chicks" sucking each others nipples. he told me to look closely and I did. he said that's what a real woman looks like. then he made fun of my stomach. I told him he was being stupid and like all the bad kids at school. he apologized and then kissed my stomach. he liked playing with baby powder. we'd get into baby powder fights in the bathroom sometimes.

a few weeks later, he brought a camera. It was a polaroid camera, that automatically develops the picture. he took pictures in the mirror of me sucking his dick, and of me laying back, naked . he took a close up picture of his finger up my vagina. he told me that he had a business deal and could make a lot of money from these pictures. to this day, I believe there are pictures of me that he had taken floating around In the hands of pedophiles, and possibly even on the Internet.

he would make me strike modeling poses, naked while he took pictures. when I was about 6, he got this idea in his head that since we had been going out for so long, that we should sleep together. he said he would only do it if I let him. If I didn't let him, that would be rape and therefore wrong. I said no. he took out a razor blade and slashed my thighs up.

this went on for almost 3 weeks. I had to learn to bathe myself, so that my parents wouldn't see the cuts. when he would sodomize me, he'd stick two of his fingers in also, which made it infinitely more painful. he'd curse at me and hit me. he called me lots of horrible names. he made me suck his dick, swallow his cum, and then vomit it back up. finally one day, I couldn't stand being slashed one more time, so I told him yes, I would sleep with him.

we both were naked, and under my parent's sheets. his dick was poking into my sore thigh. he began by kissing me a lot. he put his dick Into my vagina a little bit, and I winced a lot so he stopped. he bit down hard on my nipple until it bled and told me that he wasn't in the mood. he went limp. I felt so dejected.

one day, matt's dad met Him. He was being courteous and respectful, but matt's dad was mean to him. I was starting to like matt's dad better than Him. not in the same sexual way, but he was infinitely nicer. he used to give me good advice on everything. some other friends I had made around the time were jen and pete. jen didn't talk much to other people, but she told me once that her uncle had a crush on her. I said that was sick.

He was seriously talking about getting divorced. he asked me if I thought he should shave his chest. he told me that he hated himself and wanted to die. he cut his arm in front of me and made me taste his blood. I cried and got him a band-aid and rubbing alcohol. he began to escalate into more violence. he told me that he thought he was going to die tomorrow. he said this every day. he asked me if he should have an affair with a teenage girl. would teenage girls want him? he asked If I would ever do a threesome with his wife?

I began incorporating various parts of his personality into my writing: there was a boy from mars who counted all the shooting stars and when every day was done he would come undone (I can't stand my old writing) one day, I found a pencil on my father's night table. and he wanted to sleep with me again. I stabbed him with it, right in the hand. he screamed loudly. he cursed. my brother heard him and told my parents. they fired him.

I was so disappointed. by the time this had happened, I had a resolve built up In my mind that if there ever was a time when he would stop doing what he did, that I would just forget it all happened. and that's exactly what I did. by the time I was 11, matt moved away. we talked on the phone a bit. I kissed him again on many different occasions. when were 12, we made out. then he started going out with melissa.

when I was 12, I started getting into music such as nirvana and pearl jam, basically whatever was on Z100 (top 40 radio station) I became friends with this girl, nell, who was morbidly obsessed with kurt cobain's death. she introduced me to all of her friends. they were 18 and older. they all thought I was 16 or something. we used to hand out a lot, listen to music, smoke weed, and drink alcoholic stuff

I'd get excessively drunk and make out with most of the guys at the gatherings. sometimes, I'd end up going with the girls. I got a reputation of being a slut, but definitely a good kisser. I never slept with anyone, but I'd slip out of the room somehow without sleeping with any guys. I didn't want to. they would stick their fingers up **there** and I would play around with them a bit, but I would never have intercourse with any of them...dunno why.

I was hanging out at janice's house, and I was really high. her brother said he had some killer weed in his room, and to follow him. I followed him. he sat me down on his bed and proceeded to attempt to rape me. I was catatonic. and it wasn't just because of the drugs....a lot of the incidents with Him had resurfaced. and all of a sudden. I went into shock. he was spitting on me and trying to lift my legs up to pull my pants off.

janice walked In, and casually mentioned that we should use a condom. I got a sudden burst of energy, and was able to run out of the room while pulling my pants up. I ran out of her house. mike went around telling people that he fucked me and I didn't like it. I told my other friends simon and bryan that he tried to rape me. they were the only ones who believed me. everyone else said that I was a slut and I tried to run away again.

some of these people drove by my junior high, saw me there, got out of the car, and held me at knife-point. one of the guys took my money (about $5). another guy ran his hand up my shirt and told me that he would cut my fucking tits off If I didn't get on my knees and give him head. I was about to, when another guy said "oh forget It, this is freaky shit yo. she's a fucking kindergartner!!" I was regressing. all this time.

I began to cut myself. I hated myself so much. I sobered up, but I still hated myself. my friend jen and I were at a music store when we saw tori amos' under the pink. we gaped at the beautiful woman on the cover. It was the german vinyl version, so it had the lyrics on the back. I had an excessive desire to hear yes, anastasia. jen bought the album and told me that It was amazing. I saved up my money and bought it. I didn't understand it at first. I really liked "god"....I found it hilarious. I'd listen to baker baker on repeat.

8th grade came along. I was 13. I was in the school bathroom where I saw a girl wearing a melissa etheridge shirt. I told her that I liked melissa's music. this girl said, "you know she's a lesbian, rIght?" and I said yes. and she told me that she was a lesbian also and her name was christine. I said I was a lesbian too. I don't know what drove me to say it, but I just did. she told me that I was very pretty. we made out in the bathroom, much to the dismay of other people in there.

we traded phone numbers. she called me that night and we talked for about 5 hours straight. she had been raped by a close friend of hers. I told her about what I had remembered about both situations. there had been some programming done in my head against me telling, because after I told her, I compulsively overdosed on aspirin. she rushed out to my house at 3 in the morning to help me vomit it back out into a garbage can.

I fell In love with her. she was so amazing to me. I became excessively co-dependent on her. she was the first person I had been able to tell about what had happened to me, and she didn't hate me. that gave me a lot of hope. but I couldn't make decisions without her. I couldn't get dressed unless she told me what to wear. I didn't like anything unless she said It was good. I liked myself for the sole purpose that she saw something in me that she liked, so therefore I must be good.

her parents forced her to break up with me after 3months of going out. I was heartbroken and tried to kill myself a few more times. my parents finally started noticing that I was self-destructive, and sent me to a therapist, who did absolutely nothing. I started getting more into my writing and tori amos. by then, I owned little earthquakes and boys for pele was just coming out. I fell in love with her music and her lyrics and her personality and absolutely everything.

9th grade...I threw myself at a few guys, restrained myself a bit. shaved the sides of my head and dyed my hair black. I declared I was a lesbian and that I hated all men. 10th grade...I didn't go out with many people. I was healing myself. I had a few shitty relationships with girls, but that was about it. In the summer b/w 10th and 11th, my best friend pete asked me out and I started going out with him. he had been raped by his aunt, and by seven boys in his room at this boarding school he lived at. he became verbally abusive, and demanding of sex and sexual favors. I blacked out multiple times when we were being intimate. I never had sex with him.

over the past few months, I've seriously been tackling the issues of what happened. I've convinced myself that none of it was my fault, nor will it ever be. I don't hate men. and I'm not as scared of them as I used to be. there have been some very supportive and amazing men in my life lately, including my boyfriend of nearly 1 year. very recently, a very close friend of mine (the before-mentioned jen) killed herself. I still haven't dealt with that. I don't think I'm ready yet.

I still am not able to be intimate with anyone. I can't masturbate. but I don't hate myself. but I know who to blame, and her name ISN'T jedi.

If you need someone to talk to, I'm pretty much always online on IM or ICQ, so feel free to message me.


icq = 38844540
im = HerOwnJedi

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