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Survivor Stories

Everyone tells me to stop dwelling on the past and worry about the future. But I just can't. Our childhood influences how we deal with life as adults, and I just can't go on anymore. I am eighteen and have no motivation to live. Everyday I struggle with thoughts of suicide. I know it is not the answer. I know everyone laughs at how unhappy and depressing I am. I try so hard sometimes to put this behind me. My therapist told me that suicide is the easy way out- that I would be more courageous if I lived through all this. But I don't want to be courageous. I am sick of this Hell. And I am tired.

When I was a child I was very emotional and shy with most people. I cried a lot. For some reason, my mother hated everything about me. Every time I cried, she would yell at me and tell me I was a baby. Sometimes she would hit me to try to get me to stop. I can still see the rage on her face when she got angry at me. I would cower away from her and she would just hit me and throw me against the wall. She constantly told me I was a bad, evil kid who liked to hurt people. When all the adults and teachers I knew told me what a nice, polite kid I was, my mother would just laugh. She told me that I was evil, and at least she knew the truth. Because my mother didn't give a sh*t about my feelings, it is no surprise I never told her about the abuse that was going on.

From the age of six to nine I was abused by a female- she was about thirteen when it started happening. Her parents were friends of my parents, and we would go to a party of theirs every year on the Friday after Thanksgiving. This is where it started. I was in the upstairs bathroom of their house when she found me. She started acting really nice, and I was happy that someone was paying attention to me. She locked the door of the bathroom and told me we were going to play a game. I was to pretend I was coming home from school and she would jump out from behind a tree with a gun. She told me that she was going to rape me. I started to get scared.

She told me to lie on the floor and take off my clothes. I got upset- I was a shy kid- I didn't want anyone looking at me or touching me. She forced me down on the bathroom floor. She started touching me over my clothes. I was ready to cry, but I didn't say anything. I was such a wimp- such a shy little kid. She pulled down my pants and tried to finger me. That was when I started crying. She punched me in the stomach and I couldn't breathe. I started to feel a horrible pain between my legs. I didn't know what she was doing. I was so scared, I thought she was killing me.

When she was done she left and I locked myself in the bathroom. I didn't move for a long time, I felt like I was floating. Finally I got up and saw the blood. I thought she cut me- I didn't understand. I did the best I could to clean myself up. I was in a lot of pain and stayed near my parents for the rest of the evening. I hid all the evidence from my parents- they could not know the bad thing I was part of.

The abuse by this girl happened countless more times over the years whenever I was dragged to her house with my parents or when they came to my house. I don't know why I didn't tell anyone. I was scared of this girl, who was a lot bigger than me, and I guess I was afraid of what my parents would think. I didn't think my mom would believe me- she would probably find some way to make it my fault. I didn't want her to get really angry at me. I felt lonely and scared.

One time she got even worse and used a knife to get me to keep quiet- maybe to scare me. She decided to use it on me. I don't know how far she got, but I can't even describe the pain. Sometimes it's like I can still feel it. For a very long time I was afraid to go to the doctors because I thought maybe they would be able to tell what had happened. Of course, they never figured it out because I was only eight, they don't check stuff like that unless you are a teenager. I know I was damaged in some way by what that girl did to me- I don't know if it is in my head or not. Sometimes at night when I am trying to sleep I feel her weight on me and the pain in my pelvic area. It feels so real, like it is happening all over again. I feel so dirty and wrong.

Unfortunately, my parents and my little sister found out about all this a couple years ago when I was in the hospital. They drugged me up and made me tell my family. They told me I would not ever leave unless I told them. I can't believe they made me do that. My parents acted all supportive, but a while later my mom kept asking me if I made it up. Now no one in my family ever talks about it. I have been in therapy for four years, and I still feel so lost. I don't know how much longer I can live. I have been in psych wards so many times, been on so many different meds, and nothing seems to help. I have been trying to get past this, I really have. I just feel like I have so many walls up and it is impossible to talk to people. I don't even feel comfortable talking to my therapist- even though I have known her for three years. I don't know how I am going to put this in the past...I still feel like a lonely little kid most of the time.

Name Withheld: XGoodbyeBlueSkyX@aol.com


Hi, I've told my story on a couple other websites, but only a small fraction of the overall ordeal. I am 19, and my name is Kyra.

It first started when I was five, and a friend of the family molested me. He told me it was called "playing doctor," and I was uncomfortable and scared, but hell, when you're five you don't really know something is "wrong" like that. He made me take my clothes off, and fondled me, and did other things to me that I am still not really ready to talk about. I grew up in a chaotic household where sex was everywhere. My older sister was having sex everyday after school in my room (we shared a room), and would always have me lie for her when I answered the phone, or talked to my parents, and even when they would come home my job was to distract them so her "companion" could jump out the window and run off. I hated it, but I did it anyway, because she was older than me, and smacked me around sometimes, so I always feared being whacked or having her tell my parents some lie about me that would get me in trouble.

When I was in third grade I attempted to run away (only got as far as a few miles from home with my friend, and was gone for a day) because I was so miserable with my sister. It was just the conglomeration of everything she did, hit me, have sex all the time in my room, be mean to me, lie to my parents about me, and just because she was horrible to be around. When I was in late middle school, around the age of 13, her depression got so intense, she had already been doing drugs for quite awhile, and was therefor extremely moody and unpredictable, but she finally decided to kill herself. It didn't work, and she was hospitalized for awhile, had her stomach pumped, etc, and got into therapy. She didn't want help yet, and so spent the next several years committing many more botched suicide attempts. Sometimes I would just find out she'd been stuck in a hospital again, sometimes I would see her being carried out of the house hardly conscious, but one time sticks out in my head so clearly.

It was morning, and I woke up to do my paper route like normal, but something was just "wrong" in the house, just the atmosphere felt bad and my parents wouldn't talk to me. Next thing I knew, I watched my parents carry her out, each one holding an arm, and she was giggling hysterically. She had vomit all over her, couldn't walk, and was laughing and laughing and laughing. I had to search her room for the pills she took this time. Just seeing her being dragged out, giggling hysterically, acting and sounding like such a young child, really was scary.

My mom was also depressed at this time, and always cried, so I felt it was my responsibility to "take care of her." Whenever she cried, it was my fault, if something happened, it was my fault, everything was my fault. I was depressed at the time too, but I didn't pay it any attention, because I began "escaping." I used drugs and drank extremely heavily to mask it all. I hung out with bad crowds, stole things, vandalized, stayed out real late, anything to just escape my house, my feelings, the world. I was at a friend's cottage over the fourth of July, (i was fourteen), and it was there I was raped. I could tell you the story, but I just don't have the energy right now. It's on my website anyway, so if you care you can read it then.

I'll just say a brief summary. He was 17, a football player, much bigger than me. Through the night after other things had happened between us, he finally got me cornered into an empty room, and stuffed his shirt under the door, and just raped me, didn't hear me crying or saying no over and over, didn't feel me trying to push his chest off me, nothing. i wasn't there for his concerns.

I never told my friend what her cousin did to me, and I never told anyone. My self-esteem was horrible, and I felt that I was an object, to be used by whomever wanted. I drank and used drugs more to mask these horrible feelings after the rape, but it didn't always work. I began dating a guy a couple years older than me (and yet still a grade below me because he wasn't, shall we say, a good student?). He encouraged my use of chemicals, and gave me drugs and alcohol frequently. He told all his friends lies about me, about various sexual acts I did with or to him that never happened, made me out to be the real (pardon the word) whore. I believed I was a whore, and nothing else, had no value whatsoever. When questioned, I would smile and say the lies he told about me were true, because he wasn't the type of guy you crossed. I'll tell of one incident with him, one that really left an impression on me, and that I finally told for the first time yesterday.

We had been drinking, and I was on the railroad tracks puking like crazy, and he had his arms around me and carried me to his friend's house. They carried me inside and downstairs (I couldn't even stand I was so gone), and laid me down on a bed in some room. My boyfriend then left, and let his friend "have me," while I laid there unable to move. I didn't understand why my boyfriend had "loaned" me to his friend for sex, but I didn't question, just laid there. Afterwards, the guy left, and they carried me out to where they were watching TV, and dumped me on the floor by their feet, and laughed about what a whore I was, how easy i was, and just totally ripped me to shreds verbally. I figured they were right. I don't know why he lent me out, maybe he had a debt to that guy and he repaid it by loaning me, I don't know, I don't really care anymore. Me and that guy didn't stay together much longer, I had gotten scared because I was suspicious he was molesting his six year old sister. Later that year he was arrested for murdering some guy by bashing his head in with a baseball bat, driving over him, backing up, and driving over him again. I never saw him again.

I still hated myself, and went through high school on drugs, very addicted to speed. I am a master of illusions, I always pretended things were fine, nobody had a clue what life was like really for me. My sisters finally got the help they needed, and they stopped whacking me around, and my mom got better too. Doctors flipped me from one antidepressant to the next, one dosage to another, and I went in and out of therapy, but I never was able to tell my therapists what I really felt about myself and what happened to me over the years.

In college I had a couple "bad sex" incidences, where I don't remember much because I was for the most part blacked out from drinking, but remember trying to get up, and being yanked back down very roughly by my arm (for "sex"), and finding the next day a huge deep purple bruise on my arm.

I met a guy who was 28 (i was 19), who was a manipulative type. Somehow he managed to convince me to let him come over to my house, where he beat me up (there was a dent in the wall from where my head hit when he threw me), and had sex with me. He was violent, alcoholic, and very conning, able to make me feel like he wasn't really a threat. He would stop by everyday, and call several times a day, sometimes taking me out with his friends driving around drinking in the car. He scared me, but I was so bad at saying no that I just wasn't able to keep myself safe.

I sit here today, looking back at the random people I slept with, only because they wanted to and I felt that it didn't matter what I wanted, because they were more important anyway. i look at the drugs I did, the people I hurt, the scars on myself from self-injury as I tried to mask the emotional pain, everything.

Even today I don't feel I deserve much better, I still am attracted to guys that have served jail time, are the abusive types, everything. I've wondered if I've been walking around these years with a sign on my back saying "hey! hurt me! i won't tell!" i probably do, too bad it doesn't show in the mirror, or I could remove it.

I'm rambling, that is the gist of my story. Many other things have gone down in my life, but those are not for here right now, I don't deal with them yet. I guess I just wanted to get some of this off my chest, dunno. Maybe somebody can relate, maybe not, guess we'll see, huh.

Kyra

website = http://kyra.itgo.com

icq = 55039645

im = ReddKyra27


I was 10. Eight years ago on Thanksgiving my journey of rape started. I have kept this from my parents and I am just now coming out of the shell I have lived in for years.

My name is Jodee....and my story I have lived with for 8 years believing it was my fault and that I deserved it...No one deserves to be taken control of. My rape started with my 13 year old brother on Thanksgiving of 1991. My 13 year old brother told me he wanted to show me what love was. However when I found out what his definition of love was I refused. He did not want to take no for an answer and eventually he got his way with me. He came in my room thanksgiving of 91 , when i was 10, and made me take off my clothes.

While he was on top of me I tried to picture myself somewhere else. He called this our special day...but me I hurt too bad for it to be anywhere close to special. I wanted to die. Then after the first incident with him he acted like nothing happened...

I was really angry, and confused, and I hurt really bad. My parents did not ask why I did not feel good or pick at the food that was supposed to be for the day of celebration. I even walked weird and no one cared. I thought that it would not happen again because the next time I would fight him off...well I was weak compared to him....he forced himself on me time and time again usually during the night...When he came in I would pretend to be asleep, I thought if I pretended to be asleep it would not hurt as much.

He slipped my panties off and took my nightie off as well. He would run his hands up and down my body and then kiss me all over...he made me feel so dirty...and then came the part that hurt the worst when he thrust himself in me again and again...I thought this nightmare would never end and I still don't think it has. About the same time my 13 year old BROTHER was doing this to me...my family joined a different church...this church had our family and a couple others as members...so the only children were the pastors kids and my other siblings....The first time we went to their house I felt like i did not want to be there.

The first time the pastors 15 year old daughter asked me to spend the night ...things started happening. She had a double bed and that's where I had to sleep...she made me touch her and when i refused she threatened me again and again and she would then do what she wanted to me and like my brother I felt helpless and dirty...I was so little compared to them...I could not fight them off, so eventually I had to give in. I felt alone and betrayed...but worst of all I felt guilty, disgusting and no matter who long I tried to scrub away the shame it always came back.

My oldest brother started to notice things about me, I though since he was 15 too that he would help me or protect me but I was wrong....He wanted me to let him do the same things my other brother did and the pastors daughter did....I told him NO, NEVER,.....he got really angry and He called me a "WHORE"...I asked him what a whore is and when he told me.....I felt even more disgust. I never allowed anyone to do that...they forced themselves upon me and tried to make up for it later so I would not tell my parents by giving me candy and other things. This made him angry because I would not allow him or say yes to him ...just like I had told the other 2 no i told him no too. He quit being himself and , quit playing Barbie with me, but I did not care I thought him ignoring me was better then him forcing himself on me.

Well this did not stop him...I came in his room one time to ask him something and he told me to get on his bed...I said make me because I am leaving, he hauled off and hit me, then flung me on his bed. I started crying and I told him I was going to scream "mom, he is trying to rape me" ...I guess I knew what the word was but I had never said it before.

Anyway he was on top of me and tried to take my jeans off....I was kicking, and biting and throwing punches left and right....he told me to stop or he would tie me up....I did not care there was no way I was going to let him do the same thing...one brother was bad enough but both of them was horrible....he held me down while managing to tie one hand to his bed post and this terrified me...so I lashed out with all my strength and he punched me again told me I could do this the easy way or I could do this the hard way....WELL I choose not to let him even unzip my jeans and i continued fighting him he managed to get my other arm tied and then I started trying to wriggle my arms loose...well that was a wrong move because I quit kicking and he got my legs bound one to each of the bed posts. I could not even wiggle I was bound tight too tight. He laughed at me and said I should fight him all the time because when he had me tied I had to stay there until he let me loose...He then yanked my shirt up and practically tore into my pants....Damn this hurt so bad, I was still trying to get my hands loose as my legs went numb and the rest of my lower half of my body went numb as well.

I managed to get one hand loose because I broke the little post it was tied too. My brother called me a BITCH and he told me if I did not let him TIE MY HAND BACK UP. Well then he would have to use the bed post on me that I had broke...I knew how bad a splinter felt on my finger i could not imagine one down in my private parts...so I held my hand still as he tied it to the main post of his bed...and he continued for hours...When he was done with me and untied me I could not even move my whole body was numb. I forced myself to walk and go to my on room, and I just went to bed and cried and cried and cried....when my mom came upstairs I pretended to be asleep, and she left me....I cried for hours while my brothers were downstairs laughing and watching TV...I just wanted to disappear, and I cried until I cried myself asleep.

This was not the last of the incidents with my 15 year old brother....my second oldest brother Jim stopped after 2 years and then he would just touch me but he never again thrust himself inside me again...I still felt dirty from just him touching me and kissing me, but my oldest brother Brad still continued....until I was almost 14. Not only did he try to get me in the same room with him constantly but he told the pastors son how much fun it was to tie me up and do these things to me....so then the 4th person and the last person who raped me. Dana the pastors 15 year old daughter, Jim my 12 year old brother, Brad my 15 year old brother and...Larry the 19 year old pastors son.

I don't remember everything that everyone did but the people that hurt me the worst were Brad and Larry....Larry even had a fiancée, but he still wanted to show me what a real man was like. He was 6"2 and a good 200lbs...I was 11 when he started doing stuff to me.....He would make me strip to nude and stand up and turn around so he could get a good look at me...then he would force me to look him in the eyes and then he would tell me to lay down....and by then I did what guys told me because I could either let them hurt me, or let them hurt me really really bad.

So he would proceed by making me suck his thing and he would and he had to hold my hair to make me do that...then he would force his mouth over mine and practically suffocate me because I could not breathe...I remember my mouth hurt just to open and close because he would kiss me for so long, and had to keep my mouth pried open...I remember telling him that if he stuck his thing inside of me like Brad did that he would hurt me bad...so I don't remember him doing that but I did bleed once with him and I also remember going home from there house with out my undies to wear.

I know that this went on until I was 12..and then it stopped because their sister and my hero spoke to Dana and Larry about it...and then she told me the next time they did anything to me to go and tell her parents....But this did not stop my brothers....Jim not only kissed me, touched me and stuck his thing in me....But he laughed when he stuck his thing in my butt and I cried and pleaded him to stop to do anything else but this...I told him I had to go to the bathroom and he laughed and continued...and then stopped and told me to hurry up. So as soon as I was done in the bathroom I ran downstairs and sat down in the living room safe with my parents...until an hour later when I was sent upstairs to go to bed...and Jim was mad and he told me he was staying the whole night with me since he did not get to finish...

He tried to get me to be on top of him but I could not bring myself to do what he wanted me to do...so he forced himself on top of me again told me I had my chance to get it easy but I did not take it or do it. He ended up staying the majority of the night or all night....I fell asleep with him inside of me still so I don't remember when he stopped. I do remember waking up next to him, and then he must of felt it was wrong and he left me alone 2 years after he started and he just stopped. Brad did not stop.....I remember being in the basement, the bathroom, my room, outside in the fort on top of leaves....most anywhere anytime he wanted to do it to me...

The last time I remember with complete details was when i was 13 1/2, I had just got a new bed and I loved it because I felt safe...this bed had a double on the bottom and a single on the top, Well I did not feel safe for long...Brad came in said he just wanted to look at my new bed. Well he told me to drop my pants and sit on my bed...I pleaded with him not to do this to let me have the bed to myself...he unzipped my pants and shoved me down on the bed...he told me I was his teddy bear and teddies do not talk and they just let whoever is in control to remain in control and he told me teddies don't fight or talk....and he said he would really hurt me if I would not be his teddy...so I sat there and listened to him...he told me to lay down...my feet were still on the floor and he told me that's how he wanted me...I asked him if I could lay a different way...he told me NO...and he said this will hurt you even more this way ...he told me he was going to pop my cherry and make sure he did it right...and these events continued even after we moved ...

I remember him trying to drown me in a lake and a pool because he wanted to have sex in the water. Now the worst of all this is the fact I still have not told my parents or any other adult...the only reason I am writing this now is because of three of my closest friends that I wish to keep their names anonymous right now...I am just so unsure when I can tell my parents or even a counselor.

I still blame myself and I feel so guilty at times even when my friends tell me I did not do any of this willingly and I never gave myself to anyone....This is a secret I had planned to keep until my deathbed or my parents deathbed....but now I am unsure what the future holds for me....HOWEVER THOUGH MY 4 YEARS OF RAPE, I AM NOW A SURVIVOR....and as hard as it is I still consider myself a virgin because in the eyes of God I still am and in the eyes of a close male friend I am pure to him and always will be....I thought that I would never be able to get married but now I can try to consider it and even want to be happy for once in my life and know that I am really loved, and the fact I don't want my rapists to ruin my life more then they already have...because now I am a survivor...and my male friend is willing to seek professional help with me so we can deal with this together, and it feels good to know that this guy is willing to go at my pace no matter what it takes for him, he is patient and honest and true

So as i shared my story with you I want you to remember that you are still pure in God's eyes, and no matter what GOD will always love you....trust me I blamed God a long time and up until my 16th year I still resented God But these things happen...and God wants you to know he will listen as you open your heart to him...God will never leave nor forsake you...Give him a chance to listen and you will be surprised and pleased with the outcome...thanks for your eyes and ears, and the more I talk about this the more peace God brings. I know I can't tell my parents yet...and God will tell me when it is time...

Jodee


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