I would never think the earliest memories of my childhood would start out with a feeling a betrayal and shame.
I was only 9 when my own cousin who I trusted and adored molested me. I used to look up to him and think he was great because he made me feel special and gave a lot f attention to me. My older brother and I used to go there every afternoon to play videogames. My cousin would always get up and leave early…when he would get up the stairs he would call me upstairs. I would go, because I did not know he was going to do what he did that day. I walked up and went into his room where he was sitting in his computer chair. When I got inside he went to the door and locked it behind me. Then he grabbed my hand and walked me to his bed and laid me down. He took off my shirt and my jeans. I wanted to say no but I was too shocked and did not realize what it was that he was doing to me. He would kiss my neck and touch me all over with his dirty hands pretending to care about me and always telling me he loved me. He would lay me on him faced the opposite direction and kiss me in between my legs and make me hold his…..and rub it…..I remember being tired and wanting to go but he would grab my arms and tell me harder…I did not know if what he was doing was wrong I was too ashamed to talk to anyone about it and now I realize what a big mistake that was…..he went on taking advantage of me until I was 10 and he tried to push himself in me and I screamed…..he asked me if it hurt and when I said yes, he stopped trying, but he continued molesting me everyday. One day I was outside with my friends and I did not realize until my friends began to say “you have a hikky…” I remember being confused not understanding what they were saying…I went home and looked in the mirror and I had this big red looking mark on my neck which I realized a year later to be a hikky. I stopped going to his house then and began to avoid him, he would sometimes ask me if I was mad and to come over, but I never did. I still see him to this day….and he pretends that nothing ever happened….he calls me his favorite niece…and tells me I was a very cute child…..I play along with him too, I never told my mom because I know it would hurt her and I was afraid my family would break apart and hate me….but I don’t forgive him…I still remember the nights I stayed awake crying thinking I could be pregnant…feeling my stomach and starving myself. He might not remember but I won’t forget.
by It wasn’t a dreamon 21 Feb 2005

I’m not really sure where to begin; it’s hard to talk about as I’m sure most of you know. It’s a rather long story, but I’ll make it short.

It began for me at age 8, as a young, innocent girl. My brother, who was 6 at the time, and I, had a male babysitter. He was about 18 years old and a family friend, so it was never thought about twice when he came to our house to watch us. He babysat us at least once a week, and everything went on for at least a year, maybe more, it’s hard to remember exact details. But anyways, my brother was physically abused and I was physically and sexually abused. He used to threaten the both of us, which is why nothing was ever said to anyone right away. I remember he would tell us he would hurt our family or tell our parents we were bad (which is huge when you’re a child, that’s the worst thing possible) if we ever said anything, so our mouths were kept shut. My brother and I both got beat up on a weekly basis, whether it was being thrown down the stairs, hit, etc. That alone killed me, not only being beat up, but also watching my little brother get hit. It didn’t end there for me though. He used to send my brother to bed early every time, and after, take me to my room. The things that went on there and the things he did to me and even made me do are unbearable to even think about, but I’m sure you can imagine some of the things that went on. He even used to make up games for me to ‘play’ along with him. It’s so hard to talk about…
Finally, after a year or more, after he told me he would kill me if I didn’t do what he said, I broke down. The next time he was supposed to come babysit, I completely broke down to my parents, crying and telling them all. I remember, vividly, standing on the counter of our kitchen crying and begging them not to let him come over…It completely tore them apart.

Now I’m 20, and it still tears me apart. It’s so hard to deal with. After everything, I was sent to many doctors, therapists, and so much more. It only scared me more. Eventually, I quit therapy because it just made things worse…just imagine having to tell a complete stranger everything as a little kid. Now, things are just even harder. When I think about my childhood, that’s pretty much the only thing that I can remember. It has completely taken over my life. I lost my innocence as a child, and now, that same scared little girl still controls my life. There are days I’m fine, then there are days that I have flashbacks and just go into depression. I hate how it controls my life, but I’m still to scared to get help, and I don’t know what to do. I’m tired of that scared little girl controlling my life. I’m tired of being afraid, being ashamed of myself, and everything else. My parents, still today, think I’m ok because I refuse to talk to them about it because when it all happened, it completely tore our family apart. I hate feeling like a burden to my family and to my few friends who know about it. I just try to keep to myself, but it’s tearing me apart. It’s so hard to talk to others, because I have yet been able to find someone who knows what it’s like, who understands. It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t understand…

I guess I’ll stop here…but please feel free to email me to talk…I could use someone who understands to talk to, and I’m sure some of you could as well…buffa03@hotmail.com
by Michelleon 27 Oct 2003

Hi. This is the first time in 8 years that I have talked to anyone about this. I don’t remember much of my childhood before my uncle Larry died. I do remember when my parents divorced. I remember my mom working so many jobs trying to raise my sister and me. Then in 1991 my mom was seeing a man named Dale G. He left in 1992 and went to South Carolina. In 1993 he came back here to Mississippi. He moved in with my mom and us. In 1994, my mom got pregnant with my little brother. The night my little brother went back to the hospital is when it first happened. I was 12 years old, and the man, I wanted so dearly as a father figure, tried to touch me. He was sitting on the couch. I was laying on the couch with my feet on his lap. I started having a stomach ache. He asked me if I wanted him to rub my stomach so it would stop hurting. I didn’t think anything of it so I said sure. His hand started going further down. I got up off the couch and locked myself in the bathroom. Well, I told my mom. She asked him and he lied. He told her I was lying about the whole thing. One year later on my 13th birthday, he asked me if I wanted to be a woman. I said no. I wanted to be a kid. That night I was sitting on the back doorstep. He joined me and asked what was wrong. I said I couldn’t sleep. He came around so that he could be in front of me. He started hugging me. After a few minutes I felt something strange. He asked if I wanted to feel it again. I said no, but he pushed me back and pulled me down. He pulled his penis out of his boxers and forced it in my vagina. Every time my mother was gone somewhere and I was alone with him, he would rape me. I would mentally leave my body and block what was happening out. I told my mother several times, but she said I seduced him. From then until 1997, I tried suicide, running away, drugs, and drinking to take it all away. In 1997 on a Friday, I went to breakfast that morning and told my best friend that I’d be dead by lunch. In study hall, I asked to go to the bathroom. My best friend knew why. I went to the bathroom and slit my wrists. Five minutes later, she found me almost dead. Ms. Shona Jordon called my mother at the hospital in Oxford, MS and told her to come to the school. That night I was supposed to go to the prom with my boy friend. I never made it. My mom sent me to Charter Parkwood for help. In Family Therapy I told everything I remembered to my therapist while both sets of my parents were there. My mom called me a liar. One week later my grandfather passed away. My sis & I moved in with our dad. My sis stayed mad at me for years. My dad was in so much shock he didn’t believe at first. In the summer of 97, he finally believed after my sixth suicide attempt. He sent me to St. Francis in Memphis, TN. I got better for a while. Then in 98, he sent my sis and I to live with our aunt Betty and Uncle James in Jackson, TN. I had a wonderful time living there. I graduated high school. I moved back here to Pontotoc, MS. I took care of my grandmother. Then I moved in with my first fiancé. He became verbally, mentally, and physically abusive. I left him because he ended up being gay and abusive. I lived with my grandmother again. I started seeing the guy who was to take me to the prom the night I left for Parkwood. He was great at first, then he forced me to take drugs and he abused me in every way. I was forced to do crack cocaine, and smoke pot. I had been drinking since the age of 13. At 21, I was drinking Vodka every day all day. Then I found out I was pregnant. The doctor said my baby was so hooked on drugs that he probably wouldn’t live. I had my son 1 month before my grandmother died. He died 10 mins after birth. All due to my abuse, my life was hell. I went through other abuse in ‘02 to ‘03. My ex-fiance Jason was a drinker. I had stopped drinking after my son’s death mind you. He almost choked me to death because I wouldn’t get him a beer. Then in Sept. of 2003 I found the most loving man. Douglas has been wonderful to me. We have been through a lot together. I have had 2 car crashes and lived. He treats me like a queen. We plan to marry in March ‘06. He has me understand that it wasn’t my fault. My mom is still married to the man that hurt me, but she’ll understand on judgment day that what happened. Thanks for your time.
by Mitti Dillardon 25 Feb 2005

My name is Renee’, and I am here to let you all know that I too am a survivor of sexual abuse. My story began when I was 11 and ended when I was 12. When I was around 11 1/2 I became the victim of molestation. My abuser’s name is Wayne Manedez. Wayne lived with my best friend’s mother (he raped her) at the time. When I first met Wayne and got to know him , he became a friend in my eyes and every around him. I remember the first day it started, I went up stairs (we live in apartments) to visit my best friend. He was there alone and when I was in the house, that is when he made his move. First he started to tickle me, he tickled me so hard that I was on the floor laughing. When he stopped, he walked by the door and looked out the peep whole. When he came back he got on top of me. Then he got up and took me to his room and had me against the wall. At 11 I was a fast bloomer, and he took advantage of that. He had my back to the wall and he began to take my breast out of my bra and put his mouth on them. Then he put his tongue in my mouth. After that, he took his di*k out, pulled my shorts down, turned me around and roughly rubbed his di*k on my vagina. I couldn’t tell to this day what was going through my mind. He didn’t even use a condom. Sometimes he would go so fast that it would slip in, and that hurt. One time he tried to force himself on me, but I manage to make him get up. My abuse ended when I was 12. At 12 1/2, almost 13, I was put in a rehabilitation center, for my bad behavior. They put me on medications and assigned me to counselors. I was out there bad until I was 15. I was put in alternative school for 5 months, I was ok for me. After I was released back to public schools I was a normal child. I began reading stories like mine and becoming more and more interested in abuse stories.Today I am still in that rehab program. They think that something totally different is wrong with me, but they don’t know the half of it. Now I am 19 yrs. old and surrounded by a huge loving family. None of my family knows about the abuse. I tried so many times to tell my mother, but something blocks it. I’ve only told five people. After the abuse Wayne visited my mother twice. A lot of people underestimate me, but I have so much anger built up inside me. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever tell my mother what happened to me. I’d be so afraid of what she may think. I know my mother won’t stop loving me, its how she’ll look at me. She may never look at me the same way again, that can scares the sh*t out of someone. As for Wayne, I will take every bit of anger out on him. I know he is still alive, when I find him I’ll act like nothing ever happened. Then his judgment day will come. If anyone has any questions are comments email me.

by Renee’on 28 Nov 2004

I don’t really even know why I chose to tell my story, especially since it’s so confusing, but I’m going to try. Maybe someone out there can help me make sense of it all. My mom worked when I was a kid, so my sister and I stayed with a baby-sitter who also had 3 kids of her own. One of her kids was a girl a few months older than myself. She and I became friends and spent quite a bit of time together. One day, she and I were in her room with the door closed. She asked me if I knew how to French-kiss. Since she was my friend, I told her that I didn’t know. She said she knew how and that she wanted to show me how. Of course, I was about 8 at the time and didn’t think anything of it, but it felt kinda weird and I wasn’t very comfortable with the whole thing. She told me that I had to keep it a secret. This happened more and more, and it eventually escalated to touching, fondling, and even re-enacting the lovemaking scenes in movies that she managed to get a hold of. Although I am unable to remember all that went on between the ages of 8 and 11, I do remember that most of the contact was initiated by her; on occasion, she would ask me to initiate the acts. I wouldn’t want to, but she told me several times that if I didn’t, she would tell my mom all about it. Finally, the family moved away, but my mom and her mom, having no clue about anything, would arrange for me to go over to their new house and spend a week. That whole week that I was with them, I was very uncomfortable because she still wanted to do all of that stuff, and I knew that it wasn’t right. So I went along with it, and hoped that I didn’t have to go back. Fortunately, I never went back after that. Even though I was still quite young and had never heard of molestation before, I still considered her a friend and we even talked on the phone a couple of times after a few years. I know that those experiences greatly affected my life. Where boyfriends have been concerned, intimacy of any kind has been an issue. I know that when I get married, it still may be an issue. I just want to have a normal sex life and I’m afraid that I won’t now. I don’t even know if I qualify as a virgin anymore, that’s how confused I am. As my low point in this whole thing, a few months ago, I had phone sex with a guy I met in a chat room. I’m having problems forgiving myself, problems forgiving her, and the funny thing is, I don’t know if I have anything to forgive myself for. I need some help getting through this…pray for me. Thanks for reading this.
by Stephanieeon 19 Aug 2005

I am now 19 and have reached a point in my life where I no longer feel I am to blame for the things that have happened to me.
As a child I spent years living in fear of my violent alcoholic father who would beat my mum, threaten to kill us have affairs etc. When he finally left us all for another woman, he left us with no home and a broken mum.
At 12 and with no one to turn to I felt grateful when an older man in his late 40’s who was respected in the community took an interest in me and gladly listened to my concerns and problems. He ran a small local community centre with a bar and I would often go down there to hang out with my friends. My friends always had young lads after them and no one ever seemed interested in me – until of course this particular man started to declare his love for me.
At first it was because I was apparently like his daughter and he would tell me how beautiful I was. I was extremely flattered and was grateful for the compliments. I began to see him more often and he would allow me to stay late at the centre and buy me lots of alcoholic drinks. When we were alone he would touch me, show me his penis but always told me this was because he loved me.
This went on for over three years. . After he had left his job at the centre I met him and we slept together. I never saw him again. I had consented to sex just as I had allowed him to touch my body and kiss me because I loved him and he promised me the world.
At 16 I began to sort of realize what had happened to me and I began to feel ashamed of myself. I decided to block out and ignore the emotions by taking drugs,(my favorite unfortunately being cocaine), drinking and even sleeping around. This all began to get out of hand but I was brought back down to earth and shocked back into reality.
I had been out one night in town with my friend and was dosed up to the eye balls on coke and booze. I got talking to some bloke and he seemed quite nice. We chatted most of the night, my friends went home and I stayed for another drink with him and his mates. I began to feel drowsy though and passed out. (whether this was down to the drugs I had taken myself or something they had given me I dont no).
I woke up on a bed with one of the men on top of me and inside me. My body felt so heavy and I could hardly moved. I slurred at him to get off me but he just laughed and carried on enjoying himself at my expense. He finally ejaculated and got off me. Relieved it was over I struggled to sit up and was about to try to attempt to find my clothes and get out when another man came in pushed me down and it started again. I attempted a scream but just got a slap and a hand over my mouth ’shut up and take it bitch’ I was told.
When they had finally all finished they went in the next room and sat laughing and getting pissed chatting about ‘the bitch in the next room’. I managed to stumble out and get a taxi home.
I felt so dirty and believed that it was all I was worth. I thought that I had asked for it for being so wrecked in the first place.
I tried to turn my life around, and after some hard effort (but still a lot of blocking out) worked hard and got a promotion at work.
I was a restaurant manager and was told when I was 18 that I could run the bar. My 18th birthday came and to cut what could be another long story short as I locked up alone on my birthday a man who I vaguely knew and who was the last to leave followed me into the office and raped me over my desk. I lay there in complete disbelief that it could be happening again. It was my birthday and I worked hard to get that desk. The bastard. When he finished he told me that he just thought I was one of those girls who enjoyed saying no. And I began to believe it.
My legs are covered in scars from where I have sliced them up in fits of rage and self hatred towards myself. I nearly did start taking drugs again but somehow managed to resist and I decided to return to college.
I still have a drink problem but have recently started to stop blaming myself.
I will continue though to keep picking myself up no matter how many bastards knock me down. Some days are harder than others but every day now I begin to feel a little part of my heart and soul slowly beginning to heal.
Thank you for listening and thank you to those who shared their stories as it has been a great help to me/

by Kateon 1 Jan 2006

I am now 19 and have reached a point in my life where I no longer feel I am to blame for the things that have happened to me.
As a child I spent years living in fear of my violent alcoholic father who would beat my mum, threaten to kill us have affairs etc. When he finally left us all for another woman, he left us with no home and a broken mum.
At 12 and with no one to turn to I felt grateful when an older man in his late 40’s who was respected in the community took an interest in me and gladly listened to my concerns and problems. He ran a small local community centre with a bar and I would often go down there to hang out with my friends. My friends always had young lads after them and no one ever seemed interested in me – until of course this particular man started to declare his love for me.
At first it was because I was apparently like his daughter and he would tell me how beautiful I was. I was extremely flattered and was grateful for the compliments. I began to see him more often and he would allow me to stay late at the centre and buy me lots of alcoholic drinks. When we were alone he would touch me, show me his penis but always told me this was because he loved me.
This went on for over three years. . After he had left his job at the centre I met him and we slept together. I never saw him again. I had consented to sex just as I had allowed him to touch my body and kiss me because I loved him and he promised me the world.
At 16 I began to sort of realize what had happened to me and I began to feel ashamed of myself. I decided to block out and ignore the emotions by taking drugs,(my favorite unfortunately being cocaine), drinking and even sleeping around. This all began to get out of hand but I was brought back down to earth and shocked back into reality.
I had been out one night in town with my friend and was dosed up to the eye balls on coke and booze. I got talking to some bloke and he seemed quite nice. We chatted most of the night, my friends went home and I stayed for another drink with him and his mates. I began to feel drowsy though and passed out. (whether this was down to the drugs I had taken myself or something they had given me I dont no).
I woke up on a bed with one of the men on top of me and inside me. My body felt so heavy and I could hardly moved. I slurred at him to get off me but he just laughed and carried on enjoying himself at my expense. He finally ejaculated and got off me. Relieved it was over I struggled to sit up and was about to try to attempt to find my clothes and get out when another man came in pushed me down and it started again. I attempted a scream but just got a slap and a hand over my mouth ’shut up and take it bitch’ I was told.
When they had finally all finished they went in the next room and sat laughing and getting pissed chatting about ‘the bitch in the next room’. I managed to stumble out and get a taxi home.
I felt so dirty and believed that it was all I was worth. I thought that I had asked for it for being so wrecked in the first place.
I tried to turn my life around, and after some hard effort (but still a lot of blocking out) worked hard and got a promotion at work.
I was a restaurant manager and was told when I was 18 that I could run the bar. My 18th birthday came and to cut what could be another long story short as I locked up alone on my birthday a man who I vaguely knew and who was the last to leave followed me into the office and raped me over my desk. I lay there in complete disbelief that it could be happening again. It was my birthday and I worked hard to get that desk. The bastard. When he finished he told me that he just thought I was one of those girls who enjoyed saying no. And I began to believe it.
My legs are covered in scars from where I have sliced them up in fits of rage and self hatred towards myself. I nearly did start taking drugs again but somehow managed to resist and I decided to return to college.
I still have a drink problem but have recently started to stop blaming myself.
I will continue though to keep picking myself up no matter how many bastards knock me down. Some days are harder than others but every day now I begin to feel a little part of my heart and soul slowly beginning to heal.
Thank you for listening and thank you to those who shared their stories as it has been a great help to me/

by Kateon 1 Jan 2006

In August, my mom’s best friend took me and my sister out to watch a meteor shower. On the way back my sister was in the back seat asleep, and I was in the front seat next to my mom’s friend. I had just begin to fall asleep when he started to rub my hand. I pretended to be asleep, but then he started touching my breasts on the outside of my clothes. I was afraid so I still pretended to be asleep. He then reached into my shirt and started feeling my breasts. I was so afraid.
When we got to my house he spent the night on the couch and then the next day he spent the entire day at our house. I just wanted him to leave. I stayed in my room crying.
About a month ago my friends and I were talking about how our year had been. I said that my year sucked and they forced me to tell them why. They are the only people I have told. I have not told my mom because my sister is his daughter’s best friend and I don’t want to ruin that friendship. Also I want to tell, but it is so hard. I’ve tried, but I can’t manage to get anything out.
I know that this is not nearly as bad as some of the stuff most of the people on this site have gone through and I’m sorry for complaining when it is not very bad.
by Beth on 15 Jan 2006

I am 61 years old now and have just been told by my doctor that I have never faced the hurt of a rape that happened to me when I was 14.

I trusted all people at that time and for sure thought my parents would protect and care for me. I was a good girl, never wanted to touch a drop of alcohol or smoke or do anything that made me look bad; and of course drugs were pretty much unheard of back then. Looking back now it’s very hard to admit to myself how badly my parents let me down. Facing this has caused me to lose the love that I once felt for my parents. Hate steps in where the love once was as I know they could have prevented the rape that happened to me.

I guess my mother felt it was too embarrassing for her to talk to me about sex and how men can be. Rather than talk to me and give me the knowledge that I so desperately needed and deserved, my parents chose to let me stumble blindly through this era of my life. Yes, it was their choice. I was so uninformed that I didn’t even know what an erection was or what caused it. I didn’t know what arousal was or what could cause that. Although looking back, I know that I did not cause the predator to behave as he did; however, the rape occurred just the same. A girl does not need to date until she understands the sexual makeup of a man and that not all men will treat you with respect and kindness no matter how much you may deserve it. Unfortunately, you do have to be on guard with some guys all the time. If my parents were going to allow me to date just a few words of instruction from my Mom would have helped so very much. Remember I was only 14 years old.

My age, inexperience, and just my nature made me a very vulnerable young teenager and I did not realize that I was the prey for this predator. I was unaware of the danger that surrounded me because at that point no one had given me any reason to feel threatened. Then I met the predator who changed all of that. He was either 18 or 19 and in the military. I can’t even remember how we met but he asked me to go out. He had attended our school but I had not known him then. Maybe if I had, I would have known that he was a conceited egotistical animal that didn’t have any feelings for other people. The second time I went out with him he took me to meet his mother. It would seem appropriate that a guy who likes to be around his Mom should be a decent and trustworthy guy. I know now that this was all a plot to make me trust him and feel relaxed. He was hiding his true personality from me. I was not smart enough to realize this but my parents should have been wise enough to know that an 18 or 19 year old does not have good intentions when he has asked a 14 year old out.

The third time we went out, keep in mind all three dates were within a 30 day period; we went to a party at a schoolmate’s house and everything was going fine. We left the party and I just thought he would take me home but when we got into our small town he pulled behind one of the school buildings. Sure, I thought he would probably want to kiss me a bit but all I had seen was this nice, polite guy and saw no danger. I had never parked before and had not even had anyone to make a pass at me, and I thought since I was a nice girl no one would even attempt to do anything to me. We kissed and talked for 15-20 minutes. He was leaning over me and had gotten me to where I was not fully sitting up but not lying down either (this was very brief). Suddenly, in what seemed like an all in one move he pushed me the rest of the way to the seat, quickly pulled my dress up, started jerking my underpants off, putting my body where he wanted it. I FROZE. This part seems like such a burr to me. I was so shocked at this action from someone I had just been kissing and not feeling any threat from, I just felt numb. I could not move or speak. I was just wishing over and over in my head that I was not there and thinking I don’t want this. I had so sexual desires. Why is he doing this to me?????? I don’t know how long of a time period transpired; my memory cannot recall but the next thing that I knew I was feeling horrific pain. He continued with his brutal and selfish way to get what he wanted. I was a virgin and a very small 14 year old. I only weighed 95 pounds. The best way I can describe his actions is to relate him to a defensive lineman playing for one of the NFL teams. I was crying and screaming and the humiliation and pain were so horrible, but he paid no attention to my pain or my desire for him to STOP!!! It seemed like I couldn’t speak, but I couldn’t stop screaming and crying. When he did stop his brutal act, he started telling me that he was sorry, that he should not have done that. I guess I was still in shock and wanted to believe that someone would not intentionally torture and hurt me that way. He tried to put his arm around me and kiss me but I pulled away. I told him to take me home. All the way home I was crying and upset; he kept telling me that he didn’t mean to do that and that he had taken some No-Doze and it had him messed up. (I didn’t even know what No-Doze was; I thought it had to be some kind of a drug). He tried to pull me to him and kiss me but I could not and did not respond. Before I went in the house he again tried to kiss me and I let him but I was still so very upset and hurt that he could be that mean that I could not kiss him back. I didn’t realize he was only trying to console me so that I would not tell my parents and go to authorities. As with most other rape victims I too was afraid to tell anyone for fear that I would not be believed. I just wanted to get in my bed and be alone and cry.

I got in my bed and cried and cried. I can’t remember if I cried myself to sleep and woke up later or if I just cried until I couldn’t cry any more and had to start thinking about what had happened to me. I was so angry that something like this had happened to me just because I went on a date. I was angry at my parents for letting me go out with a military guy so much older than I. I was angry at myself for being so trusting and not seeing him for what he was. I didn’t call it rape at that time because I thought rapist carried guns and knives and were strangers and date rape was not in existence in 1958. I just knew that what he had done was very wrong and that I had been treated badly. Over and over in my mind, I just said, “You had no right, you had no right!!!!!

After that night he returned to his duty station and over the next few weeks he sent me more letters apologizing and telling me it would not happen again if I would go out with him. I replied to his letters telling him that I didn’t want to go out with him again as he had been mean to me. I wanted to reply to his letters because I wanted to tell him NO. Looking back now I know that was my way of being in control. I no longer could trust him and I wanted to push him away from me because I wanted him out of my life. I told him that even if I did agree to go with him again it would not be at night. The next time he was home he called me and asked me to go out with him just on a Sunday afternoon. I never gave any thought as to his intentions but I welcomed the opportunity that I saw. I only let him take me to a small cafe where there were other people and I felt safe. I also felt as big and powerful as he had been when he wronged me ( I still had not faced that had been rape). I cannot recall my exact words to him but I do recall how I felt. I was the one in control now and I was ending his attempts to hurt, humiliate and have any power over me. In so many words, I told him to get out and stay out of my life. For such a small girl, I sure did feel big. I now realize how strong I had to have been to stand up to him because at that age I could have been so easily convinced that he was sincere and really meant it when he said he would not do that again. I think a part of me did believe it but the physical and mental pain that he had caused me was much stronger than his words. I now felt like I was starting a new life without the memory of him and what he had done to me. I vowed to myself to never tell anyone. I thought I could erase it and start anew, still a virgin, because in my mind it had never happened.

In closing I want to tell you that all guys re not predatory animals. I am very grateful for the man I married. He was unaware of the rape when I married him because I had lied to him about it and to be honest in my mind it had never happened. I did not feel like I was hurting him because again remember, in my mind it had never happened. If I could leave you with just one piece of very important advice that would be the most important thing while dating and in a marriage would be trust and honesty in one another. There are wonderful men out there but you must be very careful about who you go with and where you go until you get to know him. My now boyfriend and I dated for 3 years and did have premarital sex and married when he was 16 and I was 17. Although he was very aggressive on the basketball court, he was always slow and gentle with me. He was always very respectful and considerate of me and before each stage of romance he would always ask my permission; and it was his choice that he absolutely would not proceed without my verbal consent. The verbal consent is very important and a must for the guy to understand. This was the way my boyfriend did it and now 44 years later my boyfriend is now my husband.
by Gladyson 14 Jan 2006

I am a survivor

I am a strong survivor
Your violence will not put me down

I am the wind of a cold, cold hurricane
I am the fangs of a bearing tiger
I am a survivor,
Your violence will not put me down

Darkness will not follow me
I spread light into every room
Evil will not condem me
I am a goddess of heaven

I Speak the tongues of my women
I share the same thoughts of my friends
I can relate to their stories
I spread my words

No matter how many rapes
How many killings
How many abused children,
I call out to them and they are strong

I am a proud survivor
I am a true survivor
I am a pained survivor
I AM A WOMAN

Rape is NEVER your fault
Jenny Fisher

At 11 my best friends stepfather raped me. I went and stayed there for the night and he must have thought that I was an easy target. I’m 17 now and it has changed me life completely. I’ve only just told someone I can trust and started counseling, because it has become too much for me to deal with myself. Although I have dealt with it all by myself since that night. When he came in I didn’t think that he was going to hurt me, I actually thought that he was protecting me. I thought that maybe someone was in the house, he was a cop so I had no reason not to trust him. Things got very wrong very quickly. When he sat on the bed next to me I knew that something wasn’t right. He put his hand over my mouth and told me not scream and that if I did he would kill me and hurt Hannah (who was my best friend who was also in the room). I didn’t say anything, I kept my mouth shut. He undressed me and then himself, at this point I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to know what he was going to do to me. I felt the bed go down and then a terrible searing pain in my stomach when he inserted his penis. The pain was unbelievable, I’ve never felt anything like that before. It felt as though he was stabbing me several times. Then he lay down on me and I could hardly breath, but I didn’t really care if I didn’t get another breath, because at the time I thought that anything would be better than this. I let out a little scream of pain and for a second he stopped, he looked across the room at Hannah, she turned in our direction but she didn’t wake up. He told me to shut up and I did. But then a made another noise, I don’t even know where it came from or what it was, it was like a half whine, half scream. This noise woke Hannah up and she ran across the room and grabbed his arm, she tried to stop him but he just pushed her away with such a force that she fell too the ground and didn’t get up again till later. He continued and when he was done he whispered in my ear, “You were the easiest girl I ever done this too, because you didn’t fight back”. He got up and picked Hannah up off the ground and threw her on her bed, this woke her up. He bent over and said ” I’ve broken in your friend sweetie, she’s all grown up now too.” Then he removed her clothes and raped her too. I was scared of what had just happened, I didn’t really know what it was but I was terrified and couldn’t move. I just lay there in the bed and didn’t do anything to help Hannah out like she did for me, but I just couldn’t move. I’ve never been able to forgive myself for not helping her, even though this had been happening for a long time I still should have done something. After that night we never talked again and just moved further and further away from each other. I no longer see her anymore but I wish that we had contact because then we could help each other out in getting over this terrible pain. But I have help now and I’m finally starting to get my life back on track. Even though it has taken me almost 6 years to do something, I finally have and it has been working out so far. So I hope that this gives faith to others who have had this horrible action happen. It’s never too late to ask for help and not matter what you do there will always be someone there to turn too. For me I haven’t told my mother yet but I feel that one day when I’m stronger I will. Whether she believes me or not at least by then I’m hoping to have some closure on the issue. Never lose hope and believe in yourself. Know that you can fight this and put it behind you so that you can have life you were supposed to have, that you deserve to have!
by Kimberley on 1 Feb 2006