I was in a 48 minute section of class in 1998 winter quarter and was so overwhelmed about my incident from 1993 I had to bolt from the class and went outside to start crying. I was so overcome I almost couldn't go back in and one of the students a male friend of mine came out and asked if I was OK.

Not one week before in class I had opened this can of pain up as we were in cultural sensitivity training as a class for 24 hours. 3 full 8 hour classes we were absolutely required to attend or we would not get certified in OHIO as peace officers. We spoke about racism, sexism, painful experiences as we grew up and about our feelings and I was up there and had only spoken with two male classmates whom I really became friends with about maybe having hard feelings to deal with about gay people. I am a hetero sexual man and I opened up that I don't hate gay people but I had a terrible incident, a rape, that I was afraid I would have to deal with to confront a person and perhaps this might affect me on the job and I want to not have it do so. I told them this after we had been told we would have a gay man talk about gay life in the cultural sensitivity training. They told me wow that was really fucked up and they felt bad for me. I eventually felt it was necessary to talk to the gay man about this and pulled him off to the side to talk with him about it and he said it was normal and he thanked me for being honest and telling him. He said it would be normal to have feeling like that but it was good that I faced them. I guess I didn't face the real issue until later on in the class time when we were able to talk about ourselves to the class.

I waited until I was about done with my talk when I was telling my personal life story where I came from and who I was like we were supposed to do. I was almost done and the commander asked me if I had ever experienced a violent crime. I said yes twice. One time my house was burned down in an arson incident from a teenager on my street. The other one was really bad and I din't know what to say or if i should talk about it. He pressed abit about it and the time ended and we had a break. He asked me to please explain it and I said I would have to talk to my two friends about it. They said they would support me no matter what I did but it would be up to me. I was given more time in class to talk about it and I finally just looked at the two guys and they gave me the thumbs up and said it would be good and they thought I could do it. I said to the commander I would do it.

I didn't come out a say I was raped da da. I sort of told them I was a victim of this crime and told them the whole G.D. story. About how my brother in law and sister and my sisters friend and some guy who was her friend and I went out for the weekend to Kellys Island on Lake Erie and about how we had to stay at my sisters friends house and we all went around to have a good time and about the drinking and staying up real late and how I was left with my sisters friend and the guy until 2-3 am and I don't drink alot but we were up and I was trying to hold my own and my sister and pal left me and the others in the bar. About getting a bit drunker than I ever had and later I would believe I probably was drugged some. They were really getting me drinking more than normal. About going back home and about being left in the bathroom getting sick. About the guy forcing open the locked door while I was laying on the floor, trying to hold the door shut because the guy put his hand on my thigh earlier once and I said to him not to do what was he doing.

About dreading his entrance and worrying he would try something. Then about him pretending to be cool and help me to the couch where I was to sleep and about him being alot bigger than me. About his hands and me passing out. About being aware like I left my body of what he was doing to me and about him stopping to get me a garbage can to throw up into while he touched me and undressed me. About the smell of my puke and his noises and him sticking his tongue in my mouth saying he knew why I didn't have a girlfriend. About me being cute and how he would make me cum. Me trying to get up and my head spinning as I got sick. About his laying on me and feeling me up. About when he was done after I tried to and tried to get him to stop saying no! About him being so heavy and his tongue with my semen on it and trying to kiss me again as I was getting sick. About my humiliation that i came after so long and so many minutes alone with him and my sister and friend were only upstairs and why no one was there to help me. About how they abandoned me with a fag who wanted to use me for his pleasure. About him saying the words that still make me shudder that "I would be back to him for more" about him leaving me and actually pulling my pants back on when he finished.

I then told the class about going home and the long boat ride to the mainland and about feeling sick and alone and my story about the boat ride and the terrible hangover and leaning on the rail by myself watching the water and crying. About how I couldn't understand that I was 24 years old and felt like a helpless kid. About the hole that eats me even now and the feeling that I have that someone scooped out the inside of my guts and I was hollow inside. About telling my mother when we got home and we were sitting on the couch and I looked sick. About her asking me if we had a good time and I sobbed NO and about everyone stopping and looking at me when I said I got raped. About crying like an infant and not being able to breathe. About how I couldn't possibly tell the police because I was a man and I lived in this town all my life and it was small. About wanting to kill someone or the rapist or myself later on planning it to the letter meeting him at the bar after work to set him up and shoot him and cut off his dick and burn his body and stick his cock in his mouth as he would be found and the Police would never look for the killer because he got what he deserved. About driving around my senior year in college and thinking I would explode and beat someone up for cutting me off driving with my car. Then about the hardest phone call I ever mad in my life. Calling a rape cousellor after three months of burying feelings. Not dealing with it. Going five or six times and feeling like I was all better. Quitting going. About wishing I had a female to talk to in couselling rather than a man because he couldn't understand my feelings. About maybe being better. Getting over my weakness. Feeling like a whole man, a person.

I almost couldn't look at them and when I did there were 31 people between us all. Some of the guys mouths were hanging some would look down when I saw them, a few girls were shocked some were teared up and everyone was completely silent. I remember when I got to the part about the actual realization to them that it was a rape story feeling like I got it out and seeing the expressions all change from me being the fun loving goofy guy to the rape victim. To the guy they knew who was raped. Not Brian my friend but that guy I know.

I have never heard such silence in a class when I was alone studying.

They all said they supported me and they didn't think they could do it themselves. How brave I am and how sorry they felt. One guy said he didn't believe me or he would have killed the guy or beat him up and it wouldn't happen to him and I said yeah me too.

The day we were in rape talk I thought I was cool and yet I felt everyone was staring at me from behind. I felt they were looking for my reaction, and every word she described about an actual victims story was another bullet or another shovel in the gut scooping me out. My foot was tapping like a rabbit. I was sweating and dizzy and all I wanted to do was get the hell out. I couldn't fucking breathe again! Looking at my watch I couldn't get to the end of the section fast enough. I thought "what would she do if I just up and left or should I run out the door. I couldn't believe the knot in my throat that was killing me. It ached like I was punched in the neck. I even have one now writing this. I left and waited outside sobbing when my pal the other Brian came out and walked with me for a while and said the teacher said it was cool and I could come back when I felt OK. We walked in after I composed myself and he patted me on the shoulder.

I sat down and the coolest thing was even though I thought, I was really sure that someone would have told her but no one did. Then we talked after the next session as I started participating again in class. She realized I was a victim myself.

I don't think I intended to write you about my story but I guess it all rushes out when I start to tap into it. I really love Tori and her music has an indelibly left a mark on my heart. I started listening to her music in 1994 and got her album, UTP then. I got her next one BFP too. I loved her passion I loved the angst and emotion and her strentgh. Her firery red hair and exotic look and sound. She is most beautiful inside her heart though and so very filled with human compassion. I finally bought her album little earthquakes in summer of 1998. I was in a CD club and I wanted it but wasn't aware of any of the songs. When I heard the beginning of it I realized how great it was, one of her best. I like to listen to her and other groups at night when I can concentrate on the music and get enveloped in it. When I heard Me and a Gun that was the first time I realized she was raped. I didn't hear about it and hoped it wasn't a true experience but I knew almost immediately she was. I never heard about her life until then. I was so moved I couldn't listen to it again for a long time. I just about lost it. I wanted to know what she said again and flipped the light on and stared at the cover book lyrics. I became consumed to read about her story and verify if it happened to her also. I found out from some webpages and some very nice people on the web like my Tori pal in Florida about the story. There is a whole active net of supporting fans and great people who are into her music. They all like to help people like us out.

I felt terrible for her and I listened to that album over and over every night. Even Precious Things reminded me of school, especially the part about the boy saying she was ugly but she played real good and she said she died. Kids can scar peole for life and they never know it. I have emotional scars from that too. I guess I was always more popular than I ever believed or knew. I knew she was amazing and that her music was one of my favorites for years but then I really connected with her on a new level then. I sometimes still cant listen to it. When it starts I feel like it is there again. Usually I will listen to it all the way through if I can bring myself listen to the first few words.

I always wanted to see her but was unable to because I was in the wrong place or worked at night. I saw she was coming this year I bought her new album and poured over it. It is also great. I read about her losing the baby and finally getting married. I finally got to see her live in E. Lansing Michigan and drove four hours to see her after missinge her Akron show after I bought two tickets. I was so very happy to be at meet and greet, I only saw her and didn't get close but the whole show and evening was worth the trip. She is so very generous and down to earth and she really cares about the fans who wait for her and I delighted in her stories of generosity from fans who had seen her many times and follwed her like a troup.

I wish as probably everyone does who will write you that I could do more for victims especially awareness of male victims because we don't talk much and because of the real silence in society about the rape of both women and men. Men and me especially have tremendous trougle opening up about such a vulnerable event and the stigma the attaches to it. I would like you to, or, I wish I could tell Tori how great she is and about how positive an influnce she is for us all especially me. I would have probably cried to meet her and just liked to talk about regular stuff. Be a normal fan a normal person who didn't share so much pain with her. Not just how she is a reminder to me and the strength to know someone can express the unexpressable. She has done so much.

I sent my story to RAINN but I don't know what they do with them. I haven't spoken with a counselor for a long time but I probably need to, some, a bit at least. I would love to help others and also help myself. I still have incredible problems with intimacy and have a fear of being truly vulnerable with sex and open with someone for fear of rejection.

There is ALOT of baggage I would like to drop but it is alot like Marley's chains in the Christmas Carol. You can never rid yourself of them but you try to be strong enough to carry them and not be held down. God I believe gives us only so much we can handle at one time. Sometimes though he doesn't need to test how much we can take either. I did get to help one of my classmates to deal with a young lady who he knows was raped recently on what to do or what he could say and I said to just help support her and be there for her and gave her the Rainn phone and a crisis packet for him to use. Just listen and be there when you are needed.

Please share this with anyone who cares and you may email me if you have any questions or ideas for me. It comes and goes but I don't know if you ever really get it behind you far enough.

I guess I think it is good to talk about it. I would love to help somebody if I can I know it will help me too.

Sicerely,
Brian from Ohio
BrianBucks@Excite.com
ICQ: 29783124
 

Over the years, I've come across a quote that I live by:

"Life is a torture we all must suffer through; it's how you choose to suffer that makes the difference."
-E. L. Ackerman

I've always felt different from others that have expressed their stories. For a very long time I could not consider what had happened even a rape. I rationalized it in my head as "having been taken advantage of"......twice. This nightmare began the summer after my sixteenth birthday. Please forgive me. I've expressed my story verbally many times, laughed and shrugged it off. Seeing it before me makes it all too real. Okay, the summer of 1986. I had gone driving with a male friend of mine. We stopped in a vacant area in the country and were drinking. I had never really drank before and all too soon passed out. I awoke to my friend dusting dirt off his clothes apologizing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that." Stunned at his words and my state of undress I squeaked out softly, "That's okay" not even fully aware of what had taken place. I never could tell anyone about that night. I was rather unpopular and afraid that I would be accused of lying, that I asked for it taking off with him, wearing a short skirt, and drinking with a friend I thought I knew and trusted. So I buried it deep in my soul and almost had forgotten about it. Until two years later.

It was a fairly warm Friday in April. I was looking forward to graduating and starting a new phase of my life. An old friend had returned to my high school. He had transferred out earlier and was returning for a visit. We decided to go out that night and I picked him up in my car. He brought along a friend (much to my suprise), beer, and Jack Daniel's. I had a flash of two years prior and knew I would not fall victim to alcohol again. But, I didn't get to choose that. The man I was with kept pushing me to partake more actively in this drinking fest. I told him time and again "NO"; I was driving! He wasn't fond of "no" so he literally pushed my forehead back, dumping Jack down my throat. I'm not so sure which was scarier: the two roads I saw before me because I was driving drunk or knowing in my soul that the wheels were rolling towards another disaster. I drove to some land beside my parent's home. My "friend" and I were outside the car and his friend was passed out in the front. He kept touching me a kissing me and I kept trying to push him away. I was loosing control of my motor skills as well as my physical strength. But, I still kept saying "No, I don't want to." Yet again, no was not a word he took a liking to. I felt a blow to the head. I remember one time opening my eyes and seeing his face right above mine. I closed my eyes again in discussed. Not just because he was doing this to me but because when I asked him why he was doing this, his response was he had gotten "a reference" from my previously mentioned friend.

I'd like to claim that he turned me into a whore, but I did that myself. See, I didn't feel that I could tell anyone this, but I did. I told one person. She was a friend of mine. Not my best friend, but a friend none the less. She said, "You knew what he was like. You went out with him. You did this to yourself." And, I believed her. I thought I was a whore and the whole world knew it. So, I acted the part. I started college that fall. I changed my name and tried to start my life over. But, with little to no self-esteem, it quickly became an uphill battle. I felt dead inside. I hated reality and began to lead a highly distructive lifestyle. I can remember thinking, "I've had sex at least once and I don't even remember it." So, I did it and hated it. But, I felt like I was a dirty whore and continued. I found myself drunk 6 of the 7 days of the week. When my friends accused me of being an alcoholic, I was bound and determined to prove them wrong. I stopped drinking just like that! Reality still sucked. So, I found myself diving into drugs to escape. It was easier to hide. I hit rock bottom my second year of college. I was with some friends at a party when I had this wonderful idea! I smiled for the first time in weeks and left. My friends caught up to me as I was walking to jump off a bridge.

I have gone through counseling and in the process of rebuilding myself, have destroyed relationships with caring men I've met. I look back at my life at times and think about how much of my life I let be wasted from one night. I finally decided to change my "suffering." I wasn't going to let it tear me down anymore. Even though 10 years have past, I still suffer but not like I used to. I've taken back my life and most of all my self-esteem. You never completely recover. And, I'll never be the same person I was before. This is a part of me. But, I quit looking at myself as a "victim" and started living as a "survivor." Part of that transition came through in a poetry collection I wrote my last year of college. I'll a few pieces of it at the end.

I still have healing to do as I still can't see my first incident a "rape." He was my friend, my best friend at the time and I just can't bring myself to believe that he could do such a thing to me. My biggest fear is what will I tell my daughter if she some day asks me "Mommy, what was it like your first time?" knowing the correct response is "I don't know. I don't really remember." Everyone tells me that a "first time" can be a mental state, not necessarily the first physical encounter. That doesn't ease my mind. That "first" was taken from me. How do you get that back? As for getting the sexuality back, it didn't come with the action itself but with the love and trust that so much encompasses the whole picture.
 

I'm 18 years old now. My rape story begins when I was 14.

Like many other stories I've read here, I got into a relationship with a pretty cool guy. It was my first "real" relationship. We were never very physical, and he respected that. In fact, I was so shy that it took us three months to even hug, and about four to kiss. While we dated for six months, we never went beyond simple kissing. I had already chosen to stay a virgin until marriage. That was until he raped me.

For my first relationship, that was a lot to deal with. I never identified what happened as rape, which made what happened to me harder to deal with because I couldn't label it. While I knew something was wrong with what we did, very wrong, it wasn't rape to me.

I started getting into some minor drugs. I started to fall apart, it seemed. I thought drugs were the problem, though they only augmented the problems that were truly causing my troubles. I became very close with a really "cool" bunch of people, and we did plenty of pot smoking.

Then, about four months after I'd been raped, I met a beautiful, fun, charming, extremely intelligent guy. He was 18, 6'1", and weighed about 215 (he lifted weights, and was solid muscle- not an ounce of fat). He was living with a roomate, and after graduating from high school, decided not to go to college, despite his ACT score of 32 and SAT score of 1500.

Anyway, I went to a party at this guy's house. We'd only met once before. He said he'd give me a ride home after the party. Finally, everyone left. Instead of taking me home, he raped me.

Had I indentified the second time with rape, I don't believe it would have happened again. Instead I thought, no way can a girl get raped twice in four months by two different people. I thought that was all there was to sex, and it was my fault if I didn't like it.

The second or third time he raped me, I knew it was rape. Still, I was too ashamed to tell anyone. So, I put myself in a place where he was able to control me, use me, and get away with it. Our relationship became very violent. It seemed a daily habit that I had to wear too much make-up to cover bruises, pick and choose my wardrobe according to what concealed my body best, etc.

A number of months into our relationship, I got pregnant. I was devastated. I was very pro-life, and didn't want to tell anyone. I was torn over whether or not to tell him. Finally I decided that if I didn't tell him, the abuse would go on, he'd continue drugs, and harm my baby. I made the decision to leave (successfully this time), and also thought he had a right to know I was pregnant. I thought it was safe to tell him.

So I did, in person. He beat me worse than ever when I told him. He said it was my fault. He took a chair and swung it into my stomach like a baseball bat. He threw me against a wall, and my head broke a picture frame. Then he grabbed me, dragged me over to the kitchen table, and pushed me onto it. He turned me over on my stomach and pinned my arms behind my back with one hand. He straddled his legs in between mine. With his other hand he reached under my skirt and pulled my underwear down. Then he raped me, worse than ever ( or so it seemed).

I was crying and begging him to stop, not to hurt my baby. Still pinning my arms with one hand, he used his other hand to grip my neck and strangle me. When he was finished, he let go of me and I fell to the floor. He repeatedly kicked me in my stomach until I could hardly breathe. Then he went outside and drove away.

I was all alone and didn't know what to do. I was so angry that he'd done this not only to me, but to my baby. Not surprisingly, I miscarried that night, in his bathroom. When he came home I was in the shower, trying to get clean again. I had been in there for probably twenty minutes, and still felt unable to move.

He came in, wearing nothing but boxers, and locked the door. Then he raped me in the shower. Afterward, he left again. When his roomate came home, I was still in the shower. The water had been cold for some time, and I was shivering and crying. I still couldn't get out. He brought me to the hospital, where they cleaned out my uterus to make sure I wouldn't get infected, then I went back to his house. My parents were out of town.

Two days later, I was still at their house. The guy who raped me was unusually caring, gentle, and thoughtful. He asked me to do a favor for him. He wanted to do something really special for me, and smooth-talked me into saying okay without knowing what it was.

It turned out he wanted me to try heroin. He said he wanted me to try something to make me feel good. I should have thought this a little strange, but I was so disoriented the past couple days I didn't. I didn't want to do it, not even a little, but I consented. It was because I couldn't find a good enough reason to tell him no.

So, I did. He promised he'd stay right with me, and wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. I believed him. Then, he brought two of his friends over. They all raped me numerous times all night.

Those few days were the worst our relationship ever got, but even that wasn't enough to end it. I continued seeing him, getting raped and abused, up to about half a year ago. It was then that I had the courage to tell someone and put an end to it.

I wanted to tell my story because there are other people like me, in relationships with repeating patterns of rape and/or abuse, who are too scared to leave. In a good percentage of rapes the rapist is a stranger, it's a one-time incident, and that's it. While these are just as traumatic, I feel that it can be easier for these victims to tell another person, get help for it, and expose the rapist. When you actually know the rapist, it can add an extra dose of shame and guilt.

While I am living my life as a free person now, I still run the risk of this guy coming after me again, and who knows what he might do? Still, I risked my life every day I was with him, and nothing can be worse than that. It took courage to leave, and I pray that by another person reading this, they might be able to see the danger they're in with an abusive relationship and leave. People who ignore the past are condemned to repeat it. Each one of us can help put a stop to rape by exposing the problem, educating others of it, and learning from our own and others' mistakes. Please don't remain silent.