**This is a very graphic account of what happened to me and may be triggering to others**
When I was 14 I was walking to the Valentines Day Dance with my boyfriend, Set, when his friend drove up and asked if we wanted a ride. Set said sure and we got in the back seat (there was already someone up front). When we got to the school, Jo said that he had forgotten something at my house, so we let the other person out and his friend was taking us back to my house. Well on the way Set said he had found it, and pulled out a gun.
I was so scared. The next thing I knew he had it up to my throat telling me not to say anything, so of course I didn't scream or yell, even when we got to the field. They took me over to a patch of bushes and trees. He told me to take off my clothes. I told him no but he put the gun in my mouth and said it again. So I did then he started undoing his pants. I tried to run but his friend grabbed me and the gun was at my throat again.
I was terrified so much that they were going to shoot me that I never tried to run again. Jo pushed me to my knees and his friend stood right against my back and held me there so I couldn't move. Set told me that if I wanted to live I would cooperate and not do or say anything. He then opened my mouth, and I was too scared to stop him. He shoved his penis in my mouth and made me suck on it. When he came I almost threw up.
Then they switched places and I had to do the same thing to his friend. This time I did throw up, I couldn't help it. I tried not to, I didn't want to make them mad. He hit me and Set threw me to the ground. The next thing I knew Set was on top of me and his friend was holding me down and putting the gun back in my mouth. I felt Set trying to enter me. I tried to get him off of me but I couldn't with his friend holding me. When I did this he pushed even harder and this time he penetrated. It hurt so bad I almost cried out but managed to muffle it to a whimper. Every thrust of his I whimpered. I couldn't help it, it hurt so bad. All I could do was lay there and cry, I just wanted it to be over.
Finally he finished and I thought they were done, I had no idea how wrong I was. The next thing I knew they had switched places and his friend was on me. This time didn't hurt as bad but it still did. I managed to not whimper and only cry. When he got off of me I couldn't move. Then Set was over me again, I said, "please not again" "Shut Up You little bitch this is all your fault!! If you really care about your family and that little sister of yours this never happened."
That's when I felt the cold metal of the gun at the entrance to my vagina. I started begging and pleading with him not to do it. Then I felt his penis against my leg starting to become erect again. He was getting off on my pleading!!! The pain I felt next was more than I could stand. He was raping me with the gun, shoving it in and out of me. The more he did this the more he got off on it. All of a sudden he was inside of me again and raped me again. Thank GOD his friend didn't do it again.
I can't talk about it any more right now I hope you all have an easier time getting over what happened to you than I have.
"lost and destroyed"
This all sounds so familiar, and after reading the stories that some people have endured, I don't feel the right to even compare my self to that suffering they felt, and the brutality that they survived is unbelievable, but here goes...
I was at a little get together in a small town, and my two friends disappeared, and I was left alone with this guy I had seen a few times before. I had had creepy feelings about him the few previous times I had seen him, because he was a womanizer, and a scummy little hillbilly. That summer night I had been feeling particularly low in self esteem, had no make up on, and was still in shorts and my bathing suit from swimming earlier that day. I drank an unhealthy amount of alcohol to try and forget my feelings of worthlessness.
We were sitting on this little couch, and he began to kiss me, and for some reason I went along with it. When I pulled away, showing my lack of true interest in him, he grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his little waist, and heaved me up, surprisingly carrying my 160 pound muscular body, but I felt like a limp, helpless child, being carried away. I tried to straighten my legs, to stand back on my own feet, but he walked swiftly into his dirty dark little bedroom, and threw me down on the queen sized bed with the sheets pulled back to reveal a bare mattress. I temporarily lost my breath at the impact, and he fell on top of me, and started kissing me really hard, and pressed his nose into my ear saying, "My dick is about to fall off in these shorts", while grinding his groin into mine, the steam from his breath was hot, and then turned cold in the chilly air.
I was staring at the light under the closed door, wishing I was back in it, in the light where I could be safe, and I felt like I was in a strange trance, where I could feel nothing, and could not recognize what was so clearly occurring. He did not touch my breasts, or touch me, or look at my face, like someone who is interested in you would. I told him "No, no, no, no," in a scared tone, and felt embarrassed because of all the movies I had seen of women being raped, and that is all they would say, instead of get off of me you motherfucker! I started to plant my feet, that were slipping around from the dirt and sand in his bed, and push my hips up, trying to get him off of me. He was so skinny, but he was so strong, and that haunts me still, that I was not more violent in my defense, and after all my athletic endeavors of strength, I could not push this little bastard off of me.
He pushed his chest onto mine, and pinned my weight down, making breathing difficult, then he grabbed a hold of my shorts and my bathing suit, and yanked them to the side, exposing the most vulnerable part of my body. He tried to insert his large penis into me very roughly, I was very "dry", and my vagina lips were pushed in the way, but he kept trying to thrust it into me really hard, and it was so painful and horrible. Once he was in me, I felt this terrible rush of fear, and my face was burning hot, and I kept pushing up with my legs, but he kept his weight down on me and began thrusting, and moaning with his eyes closed.
I had an adrenaline rush, and yelled "no!" "please stop!" really loud and sternly, to try and wake him from his daze, he then stopped and said, "What?, what did I do?" I just laid there, completely shocked, and was silent, and began to cry, the tears just would not stop, and all I could think was, "what if he has an STD?" I was so horrified, and this death like coating of dread and ceasing coated my brain, and froze up my chest. He tried to hug me, and said " I am so sorry. I am just drunk." He then put his boxers back on, and stumbled out of the room.
After this ordeal, I went home in the morning, and spent the entire day outside, carrying around a portable radio, listening to music, and talking to myself. I ran for about four hours in the hot sun, without water, crying and gasping, and I sprained my ankle about three times, but kept getting back up and running on it, despite it being weak, throbbing and the size of a softball. On my last run down hill, I sprained my ankle again, after stepping onto a sharp rock, and fell down in extreme pain, with my face down in the dry suffocating dirt, my tears made a mud puddle, and my dry mouth was filled with dust, gritting in my teeth. I sobbed, and wept, and struggled to understand. I still could not feel as if I had been "raped" by the text book version, because I had kissed him, and liked it. I just felt that something had gone terribly wrong, and I felt like I had been murdered inside. For some reason I had strange thoughts of green velvet, my father, and the hate of food, and men.
A week later I saw him out again, and everyone was looking at me and laughing, apparently, as the rumors went, he was telling everyone that he "fucked me until I pissed the bed", though I do not remember that happening. A lot of people called me a slut, and refused to speak to me, people who I used to consider my friends. So of course, as most survivors do, I quit eating, started throwing up what I did eat, drinking heavily, and had extreme difficulties with new relationships, I used to freeze up and start cramping, and become short of breath, a year later when I became involved in a new relationship. I did not tell my boyfriend of the ordeal, so my lack of feelings, and ability to experience love and pleasure led to the end of the relationship, and many more after that.
Unfortunately, I became involved in an abusive relationship a year later with a man who hit me, yelled at me when I turned him down for sex, verbally abused me, accused me of cheating on him,( though he was cheating on me.) All this has delayed my healing process greatly, especially after I became pregnant with his child, (that he said he wanted,) then he would not return my phone calls, and left me to deal with the turmoil on my own. I finally found a loving, understanding man, who treats me really well, and he does not know that I endured all this. I have a very hard time trusting, and letting go of feelings enough to ! love him the way he deserves. I constantly push him away, and am afraid to tell him, for fear that he will not want to touch me ever again, maybe he will remember all this every time we are intimate, I don't know, I just don't want to lose him. It is so difficult when he touches me, and I wince, and recoil away from him, and he does not understand, and feels hurt and rejected, and does not know why. He tells me all the time that I become distant, and irritable, and moody, but I cannot help it, I truly cant, I cant change and it scares the hell out of me.
I guess I can only hope I make it through this, but I have found all these coping techniques, that usually include disassociating from myself and my environment, or avoidance behaviors that cause me grief and confusion. Sometimes I cannot identify with myself at all, like I cannot make a simple decision, and cannot appropriately identify a situation, and have to rely on people to tell me what is simply occurring at the moment, though it would be obvious to the normal person. I am afraid the most of what my head is concocting for me, I create my own little world, and feel sometimes like I am changing into something I cannot control. I have lost a lot of my short term memory, the only way I can remember after a long period has passed, and I can view my life objectively, like it was someone else's life, like I am not living my own life, it is very scary, and I do not even recognize when I am being mean and cold, it just happens, and I feel bad about it later. Yikes, it sounds like I need some serious counseling, huh?
May 5, 1999 was the worst night of my life.
I was a freshman at Duquesne University and it was the last day of finals. I decided to stay an extra day so moving out would be a little bit easier. That night my ex-boyfriend, who I was still friends with, called and invited me over to drink. I figured that I should probably take someone with me and since most people had already left, I took a friend with me. I was a little bit late going over, so when I got there, everyone was wasted. I was wearing a white tank top and swooshy pants. When I first arrived, I immediately felt uncomfortable. Before I walked into my ex-boyfriends room, his best friend put his arm around me which in my opinion was odd since Shawn was my ex-boyfriends best friend.
Then my ex-boyfriend was all over me. He tried to dance with me, tried to kiss me, was trying to give me a massage and every time he tried anyone of these things, I backed away. At one point in time I got so uncomfortable I left his room. I wondered into his best friend's room since that was where the music was coming from. I was looking at his CD collection when he came up behind me and put his arms around me and started dancing with me. By this time I had a drink (a Zima), and I felt warm, but I wasn't tipsy. Dancing with him was fun so when he asked if I wanted to go for a walk and talk, I said sure. Besides it would get me away from my ex-boyfriend, who I was mad at, for awhile. I also knew this guy, hung out with him on quite a few occasions. I thought I was leaving with a nice guy, a friend, someone I trusted. Everyone claims how "nice" he is and even my roommate said that she would have left with him.
Anyway, when we walked out of the building, he grabbed my hand which I just kind-of went along with. We cut across the football field to an academic building. Meanwhile, we were talking and I remember that he kept looking behind him but I didn't think too much about it. When we rounded the corner (on the embankment) he stopped to face me and then he leaned down to kiss me. We kissed for a minute or two and when his hands started to wander down past my stomach, I grabbed his hands and told him no. He kind-of laughed and told me to relax. He then started to tickle me. I was laughing and then he tripped me so I was on the ground. He kept tickling me and then started kissing me again.
While he was kissing me, he moved his body so he was straddling me. I felt his hands on my stomach and they started moving downwards and I went to reach down to stop him and he grabbed my hands and told me that I needed to relax and enjoy this. I told him that I didn't want to do this and I went to pull my hands out of his grasp and his grip tightened and he forced them above my head. I started to struggle, asking him what the hell did he think he was he doing. He told me that I was just like every other girl and I was just being a tease and that I was going to enjoy this as much as he was.
I panicked; I think I started crying, screaming, and struggling all at the same time. He had both of my wrists in one of his hands. He told me to shut the hell up and then he hit me in the face. He grabbed my face and told me that I could make this really difficult for myself or I could make it really easy, that the choice was up to me. I was trying to use the lower part of my body to throw him off and he said "I guess it will be the hard way." When I felt him slide his body lower and I felt that he was turned on, I panicked. I think that was when reality hit. When his one hand started to move down past my stomach to push down my pants, I leaned up and bit him on the neck. He jerked back and hit me in the stomach. He knocked the wind out of me, I couldn't breathe. He let go of my hands and pushed my pants down. I put my hands on the ground to push myself up and I went to hit him. He caught my hand and used his body weight to force me back down.
When I felt his hand on my inner thighs, I froze. When I felt his fingers inside of me, I started begging him not to do this. I told him that he was hurting me. It was almost as if he never heard a word I said. Because then he asked me if I liked this. He even asked if I wanted to feel him inside of me. I started to shake my head no and whispered no and he withdrew his fingers from inside of me. I realized that he would have to let go of my wrists in order to take off or even to push down his jeans. He let go of my wrists but at the same time he leaned down and took a hold of my right nipple with his teeth. When I reached down to push him away, as I was pushing him back he was pulling with his teeth. I screamed out in pain and I was aware of his unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down inch by inch. I kept hitting him, but it wasn't doing me any good. His hands came back up and grabbed mine which were pushing at his shoulders. He took a hold of both of my wrists in his one hand while his other hand was trying to push my thighs apart. I kept begging him and at this point I just gave up and turned my head to the side so I wouldn't have to look at him.
I can't explain the feelings I had at this point in time. I was mentally telling myself that this wasn't happening and it was a nightmare-that I'd wake up in a few minutes. I remember looking at the stars and thinking where was God in my time of need-why wasn't he answering my prayers? Why would he let something like this happen? Then I felt the pain; it felt like I was being ripped into two. It hurt like hell and I remember concentrating on a particularly bright star and kind-of wishing on it. Wishing that if there really was a God why can't I have a miracle. A miracle-that's all I asked for. The miracle of a lifetime-not to be there with him, not feeling the physical pain, the feeling of hopelessness or even the feeling of loneliness that I felt in that time span. It felt like an eternity although it was probably only a few minutes.
After he was finished, while he was still inside of me, he leaned down grabbing my face and kissed me. I spit in his face. As he wiped off his face he told me that he liked to watch my face when he came inside of me. He then thanked me for a good fuck and pushed himself off of me and stood up. He told me that he'd see me around and without looking back, he walked away whistling. I laid there for a few minutes and then I slowly fixed my clothes. I sat there for a long time with my knees up to my chest looking at the stars, thinking "heaven help me, give me strength." I looked down and noticed how dirty my clothes were, how torn they were, and I noticed some blood on my clothes.
For the first time in my life, I felt completely and utterly alone. I don't really remember walking back to my dorm and even going into my room. I remember taking a long shower, shaking, and remembering how it felt when he touched me, how it felt when he hit me, and how it felt when he was inside of me. I wanted to die but instead I cried.
im = grimace8kr