I really find it hard to talk about this. I have written it down before in utter disbelief that what happen to me is in fact RAPE. I was assualted by a really good friend, or so I thought, on May 27,2000. I had always had a crush on him and he knew it he teased me about it all of the time. but this particular night I was at my best friends house as usual, because that’s where he stayed,he was her cousin. As usual we would play nad wrestle and have food fights. This night was just like and other time that I had stayed the night. we went into his room to chill and watch movies, mind you everyone had gone to bed at this point. he had never given me amy reason to believe that he would hurt me. I ‘ll never forget it it was 1:27 am and we were watching a movie called sleepy hallow: as we layed in his bed. he was drinking and smoking marajuana, and I was laying in his bed drinking some ocean spray cranapple juice when he leaned over and tried to kiss me. I asked him what he thought he was doing. he looked at me and said ” girl you know you like me”. I said so what that got to do with any thing. then he roled over and laugh. so we continued to watch the movie. next thing I knew he had his hand up my shirt touching ny breast. I hit his hand and told him to stop it and that what he was doing wasn’t funny . he just laughed at me and continued to do it any way. so I hit him and said cut it out. that owrked for about 5 min. then he went up my skirt with his hand ahd inserted his finger inside me. I cried I looked at him and said” you know I’m a virgin why are you doing this?” his only rely is you know you want too. I tried to fight him off but he was just o strong.the next thing that I knew was that he was on thop of me he held my hands above my head and proceede to take off my underwear. I fought as best I could but nothing worked. All I could do was cry as he penetrated me
I just can’t understand why I didn’t cry out for help. then he had the nerve to tell me that I was being to loud so he covered my face with a musty pillow. he did what he had to do then I rolled over curled up in a ball and cried myself to sleep. the worst part about it is I don’t think that he even remembers it the way it really happens. because the next day all he could say was Ican’t believe that you gave it up to me.. I honestly cant believe that I’m about to say this but I blame the alcohol and the drugs because I honestly don’t hink that he remebers it.. and I never really brought it up to him that I told him No11 that we cant do this
by Theresa on 10 Mar 2004

I am often left with questions. The question that leaves me baffled the most is what happens in a man or woman’s mind that justifies sexual abuse? What leads them to believe that this is acceptable behavior? My first sexual encounter was at my baby sitters house. I often rode my bike to Mary’s and she or her husband would offer me candy and I thought it was great. One day, I went there and her husband, Herman, sat me on the counter in their kitchen. He opened the fridge, which is where the candy was kept, and handed me a piece. He tried to french kiss me that day. I eventually told my mom that I could not go back there again. She was able to finally get me to tell her what he had done. I never saw Mary or Herman again, outside of when they were in their yard. My mother endured sexual abuse, as did my sister and I did too. We wern’t a lower class family or of poor upbringing. I have a tendency of stereo typing this kind of situation,which I shouldn’t. When I was 11, my sister got pregnant and married her second husband, Paul. He asked her, one day, if he could take me to their house. I loved their house, there were horses, it was beautiful. While there, I remember the song that was playing. I was singing with it, ” I want to kiss you all over, and over again.” I was 11, just a sweet pure little girl singing a catchy toon. He called me down in the basement and began fondling me. I was a thumb sucker, that didn’t stop till I was 13. He had oral sex on me. I didn’t fight, as some of you had to, I just sucked my thumb. He finished toucing me and it was done for that day. This continued till I was about 13 and then it became more. I look back and think that in his warped mind, he believed he was breaking me in. He even told my mom that I needed to be cut loose. Not my mom, I couldn’t go to the mall with friends or anything. At 14 he went all the way. He had broken me in – into self loathing, insecurity, and guilt. He was a man late 20’s maybe early 30’s at that time. I was used. He took my virginity. So all of the stories that I heard in high school about other girls talking about their first time and how romantic it was, I never had. The first time he had intercourse with me I became pregnant. I hid this little secret for 6 months.. Scared of him. He threatened to kill people, often, for not giving him drug money and I witnessed him beat my sister more than once. Keep in mind, he came from a very wealthy family and very educated group of people. At 14, I was lying in bed with my mom. Me on my back and she started talking to me about my weight. She felt on my stomach and felt a very large lump. She advised me that she was going to take me to the doctor’s office. I sort of knew that I was pregnant and sort of didn’t know, if that makes sense…or didn’t want to know. The doctor examined me and told her that I was expecting. She cried, I’ll never forget it. I finally had to tell her. We went home and had a family meeting (excluding my sister and him). He was called to the house after I told my story that he did this. He came to the door and my brother, David, had 22 Rifle waiting for him. My brother shot at him and missed, on purpose. David had a family that he needed to take care of and I believe that David just wanted to let Paul know that he was not going to let it ride. We filed a report with the police and Paul was arrested. Paul’s lawyer plea bargoned down to a no rape offense. Yet, Paul had to serve time, only 2 months, but still it was worth it. My pleasure began. While he was in prison, he had to be moved from “population” to “isolation” because of inmates who were doing what I would like to think of as “taking his inoscence.” I hope, but will never know, that he was beaten and raped while he was in there. You see, inmates don’t look very highly of sexual offenders. That was fine with me. I hope they hurt him to where he has nightmares at night and flash backs. That gives me inner peace. After he was released from prison, his father died. He blamed me and my family, some sort of justification for what he had done. I know it was another way of him paying for this, and I find great pleasure in that. My story in not horrific like some of yours. It was a inoscent, pure little girls story of how a man tried to make her into a woman way before she was ready to be one. To all of you who’s father, brother, or brother in law, whom ever, took your little girlhood from you, I understand. To all of you, please remember though, there is imbarrasement and shame in this, but don’t let them get away with it… make them pay for what they had done to you. I now work at a police station in a amall town and I sometimes have women and children who have been assaulted, cross my path, and it makes me so proud that they took the step to, if nothing else, file a report, because it is not forgotten. In time we will find these men and women and when we do they are going DOWN!!!!! and I hope the inmates in prison take great satisfaction in finding pleasure with them.

I truly love you all. I feel as if I know you all, in a way, and I hope every one of you can find stregnth and peace. Please seek help don’t take your life, don’t live in a dark place. If you do, that means he has won, he doesn’t deserve that satisfaction.

P.S. I am going on 37 years old now. The only child I was ever able to have was this one that I was pregnant with. His name is Jonathan (which means a gift from God) go figure. Jonathan has blessed me with 2 beautiful grandchildren. Even though he came from such a messed up situation, I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Kerri
by Kerri on 14 Jan 2004

When my parents were in the middle of their divorce, I was left in the care of my uncle. From age 6 – 12, I was molested by my uncle. He made me do all of these really strange things that I never understood. He used to make me watch porn with him while he pressed himself against me, his hand in my pants. He bathed me in the shower, “teaching me how to be a woman” while shaving off my public hair when it started to come in. He told me that everything he did was for me. Like, when he rubbed lotion all over and in me — that was somehow “good for me.” He used to stick objects like Q-tips inside me telling me that women have to clean themselves.
As a trade off, I was “safe” from my fighting parents, and he offered me a very twisted love and acceptance.
He eventually broke things off with me when he found a girlfriend. I felt devastated and didn’t know how I’d survive without him. At this point, he was who I had identified my family as. I began to get depressed and act out. In school education classes on sexual abuse made me uncomfortable, and I began to understand things a little clearer.
I had been in various forms of therapy since I was 10. I told my therapist about the abuse when I was 13.
My dad said he always thought that my mom’s brother was sick and that he had a feeling that the abuse had been going on. My mom had a hard time believing me and my grandparents (their son) believed me, but still kept on seeing my uncle. My mother still insists that her sacrifice of never seeing her brother again (her decision, I never asked her to) is a lot harder for her than anything the abuse has / will do to me.

Around 15 when I started really developing, I got more depressed and became anorexic. I guess I felt the need to always be a little girl. I kept my breasts at bay for a couple of years. I lost my period. Also during this time, I began “dating.” I put that in quotes, because I would have a relationship with a guy, but never allowing them to make a sexual advancement.
At 16 I became compulsive and then shut down about masturbation, linking it back to my uncle around 16. Shortly after, I shut sexually down and put on a lot of weight, no longer caring about my image.
I wore my dad’s clothes, glasses, and let my hair turn into dread locks. I guess I had no self esteem. I became bulimic for a short period of time.
At 18, I feel that my life took a turn for the better when I gained some self confidence when I learned how to blow glass. I came under the wing of a great friend and mentor who I am still in contact with.

I am now 20.
Through various fortunate events, I have come a long way.
I still don’t have it all figured out, but I am keeping tabs on myself. I have recently redeveloped my bulimia, but I am working on that … as soon as I tell my therapist. I still allow men to touch me even if I don’t want them to. When a guy friend made an advance on me, I felt trapped and just decided to let him have his way. I like to think of it as an extra workout for the day, although I know that that thinking is ridiculous and unfair to myself. I still have trouble keeping my mind and body connected even when I am in a loving and mutual relationship.
But I am reclaiming my body again. I have began to get rekindle my love of body building and doing some life drawing. For me, life drawing was a way to reclaim my own body through drawing. I found it really healing.
by Pamelaon 23 Mar 2005

This happened four years ago when I was ten. I was a lot luckier than everyone else who’s written but I was stupid for not doing anything about it at the time. I went to visit my mum’s friend Jules and her husband Terry overnight while my mum was on a business trip. At about 7/8-ish Jules went to bed leaving me and Terry on the couch (where I slept) watching TV. At about 9-ish I was curled up on half the couch in my new red nightie under the blanket. I felt his hand creep up between my legs. I put my hand over my “area” so he couldn’t touch me there so he moved his hand over my butt and started rubbing it. After a few minutes he removed his hand and I was frozen in fear. He took out his penis and started masturbating right there in front of me. I escaped to the bathroom for about 5 minutes. I went back to the couch and sat up straight. He didn’t go to bed until about 1am. One week later my mum had to go out of town again and I had to stay with Jules and Terry for the whole weekend. Jules owned a dog grooming shop so my mum dropped me off there. I had to go to the bathroom and Terry, who was also there, followed me to the door and asked if I wanted help. I said no and he said okay. I went in and locked the door. He started juggling the doorknob trying to get in. I calmly said that someone was in there but he wouldn’t stop. On the drive back to Jules’ and Terry’s apartment Terry was being exceptionally nice to me. He even let me sit in the front seat. Jules had to deliver something to one of her friends/clients and left me in the car with Terry. He was directly behind me and asked if I wanted a massage. I said NO! The he put his hands on my shoulders and slid them down over my breasts. He kept rubbing my breasts until the door into which Jules went into started to open. Terry’s dead now. He attempted suicide and ran away from his home a few times. One day he tripped and hit his head really hard and bled to death. I wanted to be happy but I felt it was wrong. Now four years later here I am. A girl with incredibly low self-esteem, a girl who cuts herself until there is no unscarred skin left, a girl who is struggling with episodes of anorexia and bulimia and an eating disorder not otherwise specified. I’m a girl who has attempted suicide twice (not much though just a really deep cut and a small sip of toiletries that say not to drink, no one ever knew). I’ve seen my school counselor and now I have to see a psychologist. I’m going for my second meeting with my psychiatrist today. My mum and I don’t get along and my father is literally non-existent. A whole lot of bad things in my life could have been avoided because of Terry. But I’m lucky, so many people have it worse off.
by M Con 23 May 2005

I was 17 years old and it was three weeks before I would be heading off to college. I was working late at the restaurant that night and my coworkers invited me to a party. The first thing I asked was if there was going to be alcohol there?? I had never drank a day in my life, but figured everyone at college does it why shouldn’t I. Of course they said yes and I was hesitant to go, but my coworker named Richard whom I considered a friend said he would watch out for me. A little after midnight I rode with Richard to the party. There was a lot of people and alcohol there than I could have ever imagined. Everyone kept telling me your going off to school where everyone drinks why not start now. So I drank and drank. Richard kept bringing me more beer. After about 5 or 6 beers I started to feel real dizzy and lightheaded. I just wanted to lay down. I asked Richard to drive me home. It was near 2 am. The last thing I remember is getting into his car…When I came too Richard was on top of me and was raping me in the backseat of his car. I screamed for him to stop and tried to get him off, but I was too weak and quickly fell unconcsious. The next thing I remember was being half dragged into my house and into my bedroom. There was no one else home because the rest of my family was in Florida. I believe that Richard raped me again at this time, but my memory is still fuzzy. When I awoke in the morning I felt really hungover and sick to my stomach. It wasn’t until I got into the shower than did everything that had happened came full force into my mind. I just fell apart and started bawling. I felt so ashamed and so dirty. Richard had betrayed my trust in the most humilating way possible. I never returned to work at that resturant and I didn’t tell anyone until the nightmares got to be so bad that I was never sleeping. A counselor was the first person to hear my story. Its been a little over a year since this happend and I am a far cry from where I was a year ago. My healing contiunes but I will survive.
by Rachelon 18 Dec 2003

My story started April 27th, 17 yrs ago. It was 3 days before my 15th birthday and I had’nt a care in the world. I was walking home for my lunch at 12.15, before I knew it I was grabbed into an alley way just off a busy main road. I was stuck in the situation every woman (let alone young girl) dreads. I was raped. I don’t know for how long I was in the alley, I have no recolection of the exact time, all I know is that it felt like an eternity. My rapist cut my arm and held the kinfe to my throat and told me if I did not do as I was told he would cut my throat. This is not all he did with the knife and I was sure that I was going to die. He kept telling me to look at him and be a good girl. All I knew as a young girl about rape is what I had seen on the tv. The fact that if I looked at his face he WOULD KILL me because I had seen his face and could identify him if I had to. With this in my mind I refused to look at his face. To this day I could not tell you what he looked like, however I can tell you what he sounded like and the horrid, horrid, sick smell he had. Both of these haunt me to the extent that I cant go into pubs or clubs due to the smell that brings back unwanted memories.
I kept my dirty little secret to myself for over a week before telling. The police were involved and statement was given. Once the police had gone my mother sat me down ant told me that I was never to mention IT again. I was to go to my room and when my father came in from work she would tell him what had gone on and that would be it. I remember seeing the look on her face was one of disgust, horror and shame, and all that I wanted was from her was to be held, held by someone who loved me. This never happened because my mother died when I was just 18. The situation WAS NEVER mentioned again. I am just starting to deal with this after such a long time. I don’t know how to approach IT, who to turn to, what to do with how I feel and how I am destroying my life. I cant stand the feeling of emmbarassement, shame, of being dirty, disgusting, angry, giulty, humiliated and the silence and the secrets. I have not slept properly since that day. I sleep walk and find myself in the bathroom, in corners of my home curled up in a tiny ball. I have even cut my hair in the shower while sleeping. I feel like a freak, a big shamed, scared freak. I feel like a lost child. Due to a change in my home life I am making new friends and dont know how to trust them or talk to them. In a book I’ve recently read there was I line that stuck in my mind “How do I tell people that I don’t know, people who may become close friends? If I don’t tell them it makes it a seceret, something to be ashamed of. When I do tell them, they make it worse”. This I have learned to be true from the reaction of my new partners. I don’t know what to do, can someone please help me?
TO ALL OF YOU THAT HAVE SURVIVED AND HAVE LEARNED TO LIVE WITH THIS YOU SHOULD BE SO PROUD OF YOURSELF. So should your friends and family. Good luck to you all.
by jayneon 18 May 2004

I was 9 years old, and I remember walking into my mother’s room after another violent beating from her boyfriend. He was standing above her with a shotgun pointed to her head, and I just ran…across the street to our neighbor’s (we didn’t have a phone) to call the police. They came, took him away, and he was back the next morning. My mom left to work like nothing had ever had happened, and left me there at the house with him. I knew he was angry for me calling the police on him, but what the fuck did they expect? I was getting ready to walk to my grandmother’s house because I didn’t want to be there with him, my brother was staying at his friend’s house, so I was alone with “him”. I could feel the tension as I walked past him, and the next thing I know, he pinned me to the floor, tore off my clothes and was yelling all kinds of profanity to me. He called me everything from a sl*t to a bratty little bi*ch. He forced himself on top of me, and penetrated me so hard I thought I was going to pass out. I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even scream, I was out of breath. When he was done, I scurried to my room half naked, bleeding. Of course I didn’t know what it was at the time. This happened for about a year, and I was scared to death to tell my mother, but of course she continued to stay with him during the beatings, and always chose him over my brother and me. I started my period when I was 8, so when it didn’t come as regularly scheduled, my mother went scared. I was pregnant and only 10 years old. She demanded to know who, so I finally told her, I have never seen her angrier at me than she was then, yes, at me! I had an abortion, and of course she had to go with me, being so young, and said I was knocked up by my boyfriend, to save face and to protect him. She never believed me, or didn’t want to. I moved with my grandparents right after that, because she didn’t want me there with him. She didn’t leave him; in fact it took me telling my uncles about him abusing my mom to drag her out of the house. She was so angry at me, but I guess she got over it. I told my mom what had happened, but she never believed me, so I never told anyone else. I talked to my husband about it, and he loves me to death, and accepts me, supports me and helps me cope. I only wish I had talked to someone sooner, but I am doing my part now. Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

by eli’s girlon 17 Feb 2005

My story of survivor is I’m sure very common. It started back when I was just eleven-years-old, my mom started dating the guy she called her 2nd truelove the only problem was that it wasn’t her that he really wanted sexually- -it was me. The first time I was made to realize that was the 1st night that he moved in with my mom, my younger brother, and me; her truelove waited until my younger brother and her went to sleep. He then made his way into my bedroom, where he forcibly dishonored and sodomizd me for three hours straight with me lying facedown on my bed, when he had finished he looked down at me to declare,
“Do yourself a favor, and keep this little f*ck moment to yourself! Besides, you weren’t that great anyway.”
I felt so demoralized that I felt like crawling underneath my bed.

Over the next eight years, there were numerous beatings for both my younger brother and me over what I’d call trivial occurrences and yes, the sexual abuse continued as well. The last time that my former stepfather violated me, he did so the day after my 18th birthday party, having had my best friend sleep over we spent the next morning playing in the swimming pool…when she left to go home, I thought that my mom was still at home so when I went to change out of my bikini, I mistakenly left the door to the changing room unlocked. The next thing that I knew my mom’s boyfriend, who she’d married by this time; had caught me by surprise and roughly violated me. What made it even worst was that my little brother had just gotten through changing out of his swim trunks, so I am almost certain that he heard me being taken advantage of that day–even though he denies it. Shortly after that, I found out that I was pregnant, right then and there I made up my mind to speak out against the abuse that I was living with.
I’m now nineteen-years-old living in another town, waiting to give birth to my unborn daughter. My former stepfather is now serving a ten year prison sentence for raping me, I’ve limited contact with my mom and brother I’m also in counseling for depression after attempting to commit suicide twice.
by SilentCriesNdarkon 13 Nov 2004

To this day I still blame myself. It happened 14 years ago. I was staying at a girlfriend’s place where she lived with her boyfriend. His brother was visiting. I was trying to forget the love of my life, who was newly engaged to someone else, by spending time with my friend and playing some games, watching some TV, anything but think of him.
The friend’s boyfriend’s brother wasn’t bad looking, and I admit I flirted, but I was to drained (emotionally) to really play the game. We were all drinking – none of us drunk – and I had enough to make me sleepy. We all went to our perspective sleeping areas. I had the spare room, the brother had the coutch. He made it known earlier that he would be open to getting to know me “better” -not in a threating way- and came into the room looking for attention. With a smile I sent him away. He came back and bugged me until I said sure to a kiss, and he left. I went to sleep. He woke me up when he came in the next time complaining about the coutch and I said that he could SLEEP here, but I was tired. I fell asleep, when I woke next time he was on top of me, kissing me (I had a stuffy nose and could not breathe), and my nightgown was unbuttoned. We struggled, my arms were pinned against my chest somehow and I couldn’t push him off. I still remember the snap of his wasteband as he fought to get his sweats down. I tried to move my head to breathe, but he kept kissing me. When I could get a snach of air here or there, I was gasping and said “No!” more than once. My struggling alone was my non-verbal refusal. He got inside me after what seemed like forever trying, but he had to hold me open, so when he did thrust in, I tore and stopped struggling. I was in shock, this was not happening. After a second or two, I started to struggle again and he pulled out and said “All you had to say was no.” Why didn’t I scream? I don’t know, I was embarrased, in shock.

Anyway, I really blame myself. Letting him come into my room, what was I thinking? He really didn’t seem like a person who would force me. He was fun, funny, I had liked him.

I had no support. I told my friend when I woke her up to tell her I was leaving. My girlfriend got crap from her boyfriend over it – poor her, so I didn’t press charges because I didn’t want to mess up her life, and I didn’t want to go to court, I didn’t want to go public. I didn’t want to tell my family. I told one friend and they wanted me to go to the hospital, but refused to go with me.

I ended up in a short-term relationship with the guy who raped me. I still don’t know why. Maybe I could pretend it didn’t happen somehow? Is that crazy? I don’t hear about things like that happening.

I very seldom have nightmares anymore. I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with my husband about it, how could he understand if I don’t? I blame myself, how could he not? He knows about it,(he is the love of my life I refered to earlier)He and I had stayed friends, and I asked him to come with me to hospital. He agreed without question, but I told him to leave because his girlfriend had a fit when he called her to check in, and I REFUSED to be the reason for them breaking up (as she was threatening).

Anyway, that is my story.
by xeldaon 9 Jan 2005