Funny, in America someone can murder someone, kill their physical body, and the people are outraged. That killer will be charged, sent to prison and have the key thrown away. Yet, someone can kill a person's dignity, self-respect, can brutually rape them and steal their soul, and the people scoff and blame the survivor. "Your clothes got you in trouble" "Your flirting made you a target" "You were just *SO* asking for it!" Isn't that sick?
It's been almost three since I was first raped, and a little over 2 1/2 since I was raped the second time. I still wake up every night, vivid nightmares leaving me scared and drenched in sweat. I refuse to go anywhere by myself, and I get so paranoid when I'm out after dark and I see someone that even resembles my rapists. But, I guess I should tell my story.
The first time around, I was taking out the trash one evening (What a beautiful night!), and I stopped to look up at the stars. I heard a truck stop behind me (God,Chris needs to get his muffler fixed), and thinking it was my neighbor, I turned around to say hello (He's so dang cute.. I wonder if I'll ever get a date with him!). A tall guy grabbed me, shoved me into the backseat of the truck, and drove off (I'm so scared, who are you? Where are you taking me?!). I was blindfolded and told to be silent. There were four guys in the truck, all under 18, and they touched me and fondled me the whole time we were in the truck (Please, don't.. I'm a virgin, please). One was seeing how much my cutoff would stretch by bunching his hands up underneath my shirt, and the other was tugging at my drawstring pants and touching me. I sobbed and sobbed, feeling dirty and degraded already (God, forgive me, I don't want this, just save my life, please). Then, we got to a place and they stopped the truck, took me into a room, and undressed me. They gave me fluids and what I didn't drink was poured onto my chest (So cold.. I just want to puke). I was pinned onto a mattress and repeatedly raped, while I drifted in and out of conscience thinking and acknowledgement (God, have mercy, keep me out of it, I don't want to remember this). It went on for hours, and finally they got tired of me. They took out small knives and sliced the inside of my thighs and scraped my breasts (Oh God, there's blood everywhere, I can feel it, oh God). I was dressed, thrown back into the truck, and taken home. I was in so much pain I basically passed out, and I was dumped onto the street in front of my house (Mom, I didn't mean for it to happen, it's not my fault).
In the end, I found out the guys were cousins of a boy that had been sexually harrassing me at school. I was only in the sixth grade. He kept telling me dirty things, and I had gotten him in trouble (Excuse me, do you have John Doe in your class? Please send him to the principal's office). They were sent to a juvenile detention center, and thankfully it didn't get into the press, I would have died.
I was left pregnant from the rape. I sat down and thought, Oh God, what am I going to do? I'm going to die, I can't have this child. I ended up terminating the pregnancy, which hurt more than the rape itself. I couldn't get over the fact that I had taken a life. I prayed every night to God, asking for understanding and forgiveness, because I felt so guilty.
That summer after (the rape was in Feb. of 97) was the hardest time of my life. I couldn't eat, sleep, do anything. I had to keep living life, so I'd glue on a smile when people were around, but as soon as I was alone, the suicide attempts came about. I attempted suicide more times than I can remember, but they never worked (Why do I need my stomach pumped? Just let me die!) I spent time in a mental institute and everything, but I couldn't get over it. I felt so dirty, so used. I took several showers every day, trying to wash away the dirt. But it wouldn't go away.
I decided, if I'm going to be dirty, I might as well get loose and sleep around anyway (It's the only thing I haven't tried to get over this). I was about to start sleeping with my boyfriend at the time (around April, in 98) and I was raped, again.
This time, it was one guy, one of the guys from before. They had gotten out on a technicality, and he was the only one to come back. It happened again, this time at my grandparents' house, and I just about died. I begged for him to kill me, just kill me. He refused, knowing what hell I was living in, and left.
I decided not to say anything about this rape. I was silent, quiet, and my parents thought I was just getting intimate with God and spending time in my room praying or reading my Bible. I, in actuality, was laying in my bed, reliving every second, getting convulsions and physically getting terribly sick. I didn't eat for weeks (Oh, Mom, we're fasting at church! You know, I'll do fine) and I lost contact with friends. I just gave up. Then I found out, I was *pregnant* again.
I chose to keep the baby, I just couldn't give it up to death. I got into about the third month, and I lost it to miscarriage. Then I got so pissed off, so mad at everything. I just wanted to attack everyone, just go crazy. I'd gone through hell, and I wanted everyone else to feel the same way. I become vicious to family, violent and angry to friends, and I was silent at church. I slipped into this angry hole, like a cornered dog. A nice word didn't slip from my lips for months. I was evil, in its purest form.
Finally, one night, a friend grabbed me, pulled me against him, and told me he loved me. It was the first time I'd heard it since I had been raped. I broke down and my heart poured, everything came out. I didn't want to be angry or violent, I wanted love and support and reassurance. That's the longest talk I've ever had with a person (God, it's so late!). I just wanted to be me again, but I had a long way to go.
I still do. I have so much more to recover from. But I can do things I thought I could never do before. I can hold my baby cousin and just love her, not hate her because she's here and my babies aren't. I can enjoy car trips, not be afraid. I can go in public and not feel like everyone knows. I'm only 14, but I'm doing the best I can. I can live again. I still cry myself to sleep, and I still get flashbacks when I kiss a boy, but it's getting better. It does get better, even though you don't think it does. I just wish it could go faster, you know? I feel so much better writing it out, but I had to let it go. It's hard to talk to people, because they don't understand, but here, you know. You know how I feel, the fear, the hurt, the everything. Just, thank you guys, another little piece is back in my heart. Maybe, one day, it'll be all together again. Maybe one day I'll feel clean again, I won't be afraid of men and intimacy and love. Maybe. But I've got time. And I intend to use it.
i don't really know if my story really qualifies as abuse or anything becuz i really did deserve it and it honestly was my fault. but my best friend sez that it qualifies and this pain is fucking killing me so i'll spill...
it started innocently enough. it was the first saturday in march of this year and i was 14. my mom's best friend's son called her and asked her if she wanted to sell him some of her pot and play pool that night. i don't really know how old he was, he said he was 19 but he told me so many lies i don't really know. my mom said he was 21. anyways, they went out to dinner and left me home alone(as always). about an hour after they left they came back and decided that they were gonna take me somewhere becuz my mom thought that i'd get along well with him becuz we both loved metal and raving.
i'll never forget my first impression of him. i saw him and i thought he was HOTT. he looked at me and his eyes like popped out and it was like i wanted him so badly. we spent about two hours together that night playing pinball and talking about everything. he listened to me and told me everything about him, even how old he was when he lost his virginity. he told me i was so much like him and i thought it was cool that an older guy was paying attention to me. nothing sexual happened that night, though.
nine days later(march 14th) i was talking to my gyrlfriend on the phone and we were doing our science homework when he called me. i hung up on her and talked to him. he said he was looking for his mother and he thought that she might be at my house becuz our moms were always together. but my mom wasn't home so we started talking about his ex girlfriend, who he said i reminded him of, and eventually the conversation turned to us. he knew i was a virgin and i was sick of it. he asked me if i wanted to hang out that friday night and fuck. i didn't know what to say but, since somebody was finally paying attention to me, i told him i would.
the next day my mom and her boyfriend drove to wisconsin for night and they left me alone with my gyrlfriend. my mom called her friend(the guy's mom)and told her to call me occasionally and make sure i was okay. but she never called. he came over around 7 and hung out with me and my gyrl, telling us about the concerts he had been to and the shit he had done. when my gyrl left we sat in silence looking at each other and suddenly he asked "what do you wanna do?" i had gotten drunk with my gyrl about 3 hours earlier so i was out of it and i said "i wanna fuck." it was meant as a joke becuz fucking had become a joke between us. but he took me seriously and began to kiss me.
it was my first kiss and i didn't know what to do so he taught me. then he slid his hand between my legs and the other hand was up my shirt. he pulled off my shirt and began to kiss my nipples. then he asked "can i finger you?" and i said "no" so he punched my thigh and left a bruise that lasted for almost 2 weeks. so i let him come into my bedroom and we laid on my bed, making out while he played with it. after a few minute he asked me if i wanted him to eat me. i thought the concept was nasty and i wasn't ready to do anything like it so i said no. he kept telling me i'd like it and then he said "you're such a little gyrl" and i didn't wanna be just another 8th grade wannabe-person so i let him.
he was terrible at it, even in my experience i knew that. i remember looking at the korn poster beside my bed(i still can't sleep with that poster near my head) and wanting it to be over. his fingers were inside me and they were making me bleed.
after he was satisfied with that, he laid beside me and asked me if i wanted to give him head. i told him to leave me alone(i didn't tell him that i despised him and his face now made me want to shoot myself) but he pulled his pants down and made me play with his penis. i hated every second of it.
after he saw that i wasn't gonna suck him he decided to leave and, after telling me that i was just another little gyrl, he left.
i told my gyrl every detail the next day, except that i hated it. i told her it had felt so right and i honestly thought that it had.
a week later he came back and told me he was gonna give me another chance. we went into my bedroom, put on a CD(the first eminem CD, which i still cannot listen to without the memory rush) and he began to kiss me. but i pulled away and wouldn't let him go any further. we sat in my living room and he kept pressuring me, saying shit like "come on, cutie, you're beautiful, and i want you". but i kept saying no and, after i promised him that we'd fuck all summer long, he left.
nothing else happened between us, he came over one more time but i wasn't alone with him. and he called my mom a few more times. every night my mom and her boyfriend left me alone while they went out to sell drugs and shit at bars and every night i waited for him to come over. i had turned into a major slut after the first night. i thought that i wanted to fuck him so i waited for my next opportunity. at the same time i feared the next time. i had lost my gyrl becuz she had decided that i was acting too much like a whore and letting him run my life.
i lived with the secret of me and him until the 15th of april, which was the day of my gyrl's confirmation. me and her had made up a few days before becuz i loved her and i couldn't live without her and i wanted to be with her on that day. she had a party and afterwards my mom and her new best friend came and picked me up. me, my mom, and her friend went out to dinner and we got into a conversation about sex. my mom was raped at age 13 and she was talking about how it had changed her. i listened and something inside me clicked. on the way home my mom decided that she was gonna go to the bar that night, leaving me alone again. i began to cry, i was afraid to be alone that night becuz somehow i knew that he would be coming over and i would be fucked, regardless of if i wanted it or not.
i told my mom about what happened and she pulled over. she called his mom and told her what i said. he denied everything and his mom called me a lying slut. but she never called again and i haven't seen her since.
it's been over 8 months since i told my mom about it and my mom hasn't pressed charges or anything. we don't talk about it, unless she's using it against me during a fight. her now-ex boyfriend found out about it and he looked at me and said "i always knew you were a whore." my gyrl and i are the only ones who talk about it at all. she tells me it wasn't my fault at all and i know that she's right but i can't make myself believe it. i still feel that i asked for it to happen and i could have done something to stop him.Star
I don't even know where to start. It seems like so long ago, but it really has only been 2 years and 4 months since my innocence was taken and my life changed.
I was only 13 when I started hanging out with the rebel crowd in my neighborhood. Mostly guys with a few girls mixed in, this crowd walked around smoking cigarettes and whatever else they could get their hands on. A couple times during that summer, I gave them a place to hang out and smoke during the day when my parents weren't home. I had a pool in my backyard, and everyone loved getting high and then jumping into the pool.
One night, everyone decided to come over. My dad was out of town and my mom was probably asleep, I can't really remember exactly what she was doing. So we all smoked and had some sodas and water to drink. Soon after, I became extremely dizzy and began blacking out. My next memories are very scattered and blurry, so just bear with me because the nightmare pops in and out of my head like flashes and sometimes doesn't even make sense.
I remember being tossed into the pool and all these voices. Deep voices, laughing and cheering eachother on. I can remember the pain... the different faces hanging over me. I don't know if I screamed..... I just remember being in a daze. When I woke up I was in a whole lot of pain and extremely confused. My innocence was gone, and I'll never get it back.
To this day, I don't know exactly who raped me, or what they did to me to make me basically pass out. I just wish that one day, I will remember so that they can pay for ruining my life. Rape is worse then murder, because you have to live with what they have done. Everyday I look in the mirror and it reminds me. I walk in my backyard and I have flashbacks... I wake up at odd hours of the night from a nightmare, and I cry for no reason. I just dont understand why.....
One of the hardest things was telling my mom. Two years after it happened, I was convinced to tell her. It nearly crushed her because my sister was taken advantage of when she was a teenager. I have GREAT parents. They love me and take care of me and would do anything for me, and my mom has troubles dealing with this because she doesnt remember why she wasn't there to save me. But she's helping me now.
I should thank my boyfriend for showing me this website and helping me through all of this. I really dont think I could do this without him.