Runaway Train by Soul Asylum

As with most survivors stories this will probably trigger so I'm giving you a Trigger Warning. Please be safe reading this.

I lost my older brother when I was 1 ½ and he was almost 5. We were close and I was the only one who understood him and visa versa. I started going to therapy when I was four and I was diagnosed as bipolar. When I was five I came home from school one day after being molested by some of the older boys who to the teachers were complete angels and I said I was going to kill myself. But since no one believed me because I already had a very wild and vivid imagination plus I was depressed and bipolar, the boys continued for the next two years until I moved. They never left any physical marks because they didn't want me accidentally or on purpose showing them to adults in proof. But they'd corner me on the playground and put their hands up my skirt or kiss me, stuff like that. They called me their toy though. They'd put their hands up my skirt or down my pants, they'd make me touch them in places I didn't want to, they'd get little toys that vibrated, turn them on, and put them on me to see my reaction. Then they'd tell me I liked it.

After we moved I was very shy. I didn't want anyone else doing that to me so I kept to myself and in sight of the teacher. I was called a suck up and teachers pet because I was always offering to help them out so that I'd be in their view. One day though on my way home from school when I was in fourth grade a few of the fifth grade boys that rode my bus got me off at their stop. When I told them that I didn't want to go they told the sub driver that I was one of their little sisters, I just didn't want to leave my friend who was sitting next to me. My other sisters that were supposed to be on the bus with me were home sick. They got me into one of their houses and played with me, just as the boys had when I was younger, though it was a little worse. They tied me to the bed so I couldn't do anything to them. I'd worn a skirt that day now I wish I hadn't. The boys took turns putting their fingers in me and then different things to see how I'd react to them. Then two of them raped me. After that they took me home. When I got home I just told my sisters that the bus was late because of the sub, I was too embarrassed and scared to tell them the truth.

My parents split up when I was nine, not to long after the incident with the fifth grade boys. After they split my dad got testy. Started working more, being home less, thus my sisters were able to hit me and abuse me and get away with it. I'd tell my dad and he's just say, 'Better her than me.' but I mess around with them and barely tap them and he yells at me, 'WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU?!?!?! Don't hit your sisters!!!!!!!' then I get sent to my room. It wasn't long after that when he started hitting me. Every time I hit one of my sisters he'd spank me then hit me really hard wherever I hit them. It got to the point where I was turning into the family slave. Even though my dad still does nice things for me, buy me things for no reason, help me get to my job, and things like that, I think he's trying to buy my silence. And it's worked for the past 9 years.

Nothing really changed until my freshman year. I started getting really depressed and I started to SI. I'd cut my wrists, bang my head against my wall, and give myself bruises. My friends worried about the bruises in the beginning because they didn't see the cuts. I just told them I was a klutz, that excuse worked in the past; I had no reason to doubt it's working then. But one of my friends cornered me at one point and grabbed my wrists; she looked them over then looked at me. She wanted to know why. I couldn't tell her, I just said that I didn't know. No one knew my story, I was afraid to tell because of what had happened when I was younger, I was afraid I wouldn't be believed. My dad found out about my SI when the school counselor called him. My friend had gone down there and told her what I did and then she called me down to talk to me and look at my wrists. When my dad found out he hit me for it. He said I should be happy for the great life I had. He said I had no reason to SI.

Things didn't really change until last summer. Last summer I was raped. I was at a weekend long event with a group called the SCA (it's a medieval type group that has an event every Fourth of July weekend which is where I was) and I was walking, talking with this one guy, my youngest sister and one of her friends. I was 16, he was 19 but he said he was gay, said he didn't like girls like that so I wasn't worried. We walked around and talked then we stopped in a hallway. Well people kept barging in on us in the hallway so we went into the room under the stairs. My sister and her friend fell asleep because it was 1-2 in the morning. The guy was a little tipsy, had a little too much to drink but he wasn't bad drunk. Anyway, he said he was cold so he pulled me on his lap. I didn't think much of it. When I turned and looked at him because he said something really outrageous he kissed me. I pulled away and told him not to do that again. He said okay and he was sorry. I believed him. He put both his arms around my waist so I couldn't get off of him. I started getting worried. He then makes me look at him again and kisses me again. I tried to get off of him and I fell, I was lying down on my back and he moved in on top of me. He got my shirt and bra off and started messing with me and licking me and everything. He was telling me the whole time that I liked it. Then he took his shirt and pants off and got my pants off. I told him to stop, that he was going too far. I asked him what happened to him being gay; he said that he lied to make me trust him. He got everything off and started sticking fingers in me...He then held me down while he put on a condom (at least he was THAT smart...) and he started having sex with me, I was crying the whole time. I think my sister and her friend were drugged because they slept through the whole thing. It was the longest hour of my life. He finally got tired of it and got off me. He threw me my clothes and said to keep quiet or else he'd kill me. I believed him because he cut a fairly deep cut on my leg when I said I was going to tell. So I kept quiet.

This past June that guy's brother molested me, we were at my mom's by ourselves and he said that he'd always liked me. I'm 17, he's 24, 25...But he pins me and starts kissing me, I'm shaking my head trying to get away. He's too strong. He put his hands up my shirt and under my bra and started massaging me. He didn't get in my pants but still...Then he pulled out HIS knife and said to keep quiet or he'd hurt me, then to prove his point he scratched me.

Now August fifth, my dad came home drunk and raped me. I was on a chat room and he came home. Right when he walked in the door he started yelling at me but then he went to his room, I thought that was the end of it. Little did I know it was just the beginning. He called me into his room a few minutes later; I went but I figured it couldn't be good. He somehow tosses me on to the bed; he's already undressed. He tells me to take my shirt off; I tell him no. He hits me and tells me again to take it off; I again say no. He hits me again and takes it and my bra off for me. I try to get away from him and he pulls out a knife, saying if I don't cooperate then I might just find myself dead. So I shut up. He's only able to do anything for 20 minutes but it was a long 20 minutes. Then two days later at church I tell one of my leaders, Taylor, and she calls the cops and sits with me while I'm talking to them. They get my story and then go back to my house. Taylor and I wait outside for a few minutes while the cop talks to my dad. Then he calls me inside, Taylor has to leave so she gives me a hug and her phone number so I can call her if I need her. So I go inside and the cop looks at me and asks me if I've ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf? I look confused but I say that I have. Then he nods and he says that something in my story doesn't fit, he says he doesn't think he got the whole story and asks for the whole story. I tell him that I gave him the whole story. He says that he doesn't think it's all true, he says he wants the truth. I tell him I gave him the truth and if he doesn't believe me then that's his problem and I go and lock myself in my room. The cop leaves. Three days later I'm at my church's Wednesday night activity and I tell Taylor what happened. She gives me a hug and tells me that I'm going home with her that night, and that I'm not going back to my dad's ever again if she can help it. After I leave my dad's he starts showing up at where I work and giving me a hard time. I now have a restraining order and am in therapy.
It's been almost two weeks since my dad raped me and it's been a week since I left. I'm happy right now and am so glad to be somewhere where I'm taken care of and wanted and loved. So this is my story. It's still growing which is kinda' scary considering how long it already is but hey, that's how it is.

Change has considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful, change is threatening because it means that things may get worse To the hopeful, change is encouraging because things may get better. To confident, change is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better.
~ King Whitney, Jr.

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