I'm 23 now. Four years ago this coming September, I was a freshman in college. I was in my first month, living in a dorm two hours from my parents. For a nineteen year old, I was pretty naive. I drank only occassionally, had never gotten drunk, never smoked anything, or tried any drugs. I practically grew up in the hospital because of my disability and related health problems, so I had acquired a "healthy" fear of needles that kept me from trying any drugs. I wouldn't have known where to get them even if I had wanted them. I didn't go on my first date till my senior year of high school. Not that I didn't want to, but no one had ever asked me; I'd been rejected enough in the pastthat I had stopped asking.

I met HIM in the school's computer lab. I was in the lab a lot, writing email to my boyfriend who lived 800 miles away. HE introduced me to an internet "talker," where my boyfriend and I could "meet" to talk to each other live. September 29, 1995 - my dad's birthday. It was a Friday, mid-afternoon. I was in one of the computer labs. HE and his girlfriend were in the same lab, sitting across from me, our backs to each other. He started flirting with me in the lab. He was making me really uncomfortable, so I asked him to stop. I even said, "Your girlfriend's right there." He just said, "She's not paying attention." Finally, after about five minutes of my telling him to stop, he did. I guess I must have "forgiven and forgotten" WAY too easily back then, because a half hour later when the lab closed, we were talking about some computer error I kept getting. He wanted to keep talking, so I invited him back to my dorm room.

Everything else happened so fast, I'm not 100% sure of all of the details. I know that we saw one of my friends on the way to my room, but I'm not sure if we spoke. We *must* have talked about computer stuff in for awhile, but I don't remember. The next thing I do remember is that I was sitting on my bed, he was sitting beside the bed, sitting in my wheelchair. He kissed me. Then he asked if he could take off my shirt. I said, "okay." He took off my shirt and laid me down on my back. At that point, I should have known what was going on, but I'd never "made out" with anyone but my boyfriend before, and we'd not even gotten THAT far.

When HE laid down on top of me, I got the idea of what was going on and I said "Wait, we can't do this. We're both seeing someone else." At first, he acted like he was okay with it. We sat up, started talking again and he started telling me how pretty I was and how much he did not love his girlfriend. I'd never been told I was pretty by a non-disabled male before, and I was kind of flattered. But when he started telling me he loved me, I said, "No, you don't love me. We don't know each other well enough for that." He started acting upset, like I'd hurt his feelings. He asked me if I thought there was ANY chance that we could get to know each other well enough that I could come to love him. At first I told him no, because I was in love with my boyfriend. He kept asking me and asking me, begging me to tell him there was a chance that I could learn to love him. I ended up saying, "Yes, a chance," because I thought that way he would stop asking me and he'd leave me alone.

With that, he started laying down and pulled me down too. He rolled over so that he was on top of me, I was on my back. He pinned at my sides. I can't move anything from the waist down, so once my arms were pinned, I was trapped. I *still* didn't realize what his full plan was. I told him, "This isn't funny. I want you to let me up." He ignored me. I remember thinking, "This guy is my friend, he wouldn't hurt me. If I yell or try to get away, he'll get mad. I don't want him to get mad; I'll lose his friendship." My first *reaction* was to do nothing, thinking that if I didn't respond to him or anything he did, he'd leave me alone.

That plan *might* have worked, except when he entered me, it HURT. I begged him to stop, but he gave me the "if I stop, I'll hurt myself," line. ASSHOLE! I told him I didn't care about him hurting, I wanted him to stop! He was hurting ME! He didn't. He then put his penis in my rectum, which, if possible, hurt even worse than the vaginal.

I don't know how long this went on, I guess I kind of blanked out after that. The next thing I knew, a friend of mine knocked on my door. That got the asshole to stop what he was doing REALLY fast. He told me "Tell her to come back in five minutes." So I did. After he had let go and let me get dressed, and got himself dressed, he stayed around talking for awhile, acting just as if nothing had happened! I was too shocked about what had just happened and a little afraid of him now, so I didn't even think of asking him to leave. My friend came back and after he had left, asked me what had happened. I told her, and she said, "Tracey, you were raped." I told her I *felt* like I had been raped, but I thought that there had to be threats or him beating me up or something. I know now, that she was right.

I did report it to the police-two weeks later. I didn't press charges because I'd seen too many movies where the survivor is treated like a criminal, and the criminal treated like the victim. I was also worried that if I pressed charges, he would get angry and come and "finish what he started," and kill me. Plus, all of my friends said that the "Christian" thing to do was to "forgive and forget." I was really confused, really hurt, and really scared. Looking back, I wish I'd pressed charges, but I did what I thought was best at the time.It's been four years now and I'm doing better. In the first six months afterit happened, I tried to kill myself four times. I ended up in the hospital for depression which was the best thing that I ever did for myself. I like myself a lot better now. I still have bad days. I still hate HIM sometimes, although I'm working on forgiving him for what he did. To help myself heal, I have started a web-page that I am hoping evolves into an organization, if enough "interest" is shown. The web page and the organization would be to provide sexual assault awareness and support for minority survivors, like the disabled, males, non-heterosexuals, etc. Please e-mail me for more information.

Tracey
whitethe1@aol.com
 


I have been looking around this site for a while now, and I would like to commend everyone who has come before me and told their story. This is my story: I was young, 12, when it all started. I met this really great guy, and wanting to be like everyone else in eighth grade, we started going out together. He was so sweet and my parents loved him. He was 2 years older than me and knew just what to say to please everyone. Things were wonderful at first, I had my first kiss, my first high school dance, first prom (when I was a freshman). Either I didn't understand what was going on or I just didn't want to see it. My parents just kept telling me how wonderful he was, how lucky I was to have such a guy.

Then it all really started. I was 14 when I realized what was going on. I was cut off from my friends, not allowed to talk to anyone he didn't approve of, which was anyone other than him. He controlled my life completely. Everything had to be his way. The verbal, mental, and emotional abuse want on for several months, before things got violent. We had been having sex for a few months and it was now the middle of winter. We were in my basement which had been finished off to be a family room. we would mess around and stuff down there while my parents sat upstairs watching TV. Well this time I didn't feel much like doing anything, I was actually feeling kind of sick. I told him and he said that I was just playing around with him. I was sitting on the floor talking to him, my biggest mistake, he just kinda lounged at me and pinned me down. He was about twice my size and a hockey player. I am in no way a "little" girl either. I was wearing a baggy pair of shorts so he didn't even have to take them off. I felt like he was going to break my ribs, i just kept saying "no, don't do this". I couldn't scream because I was afraid of my parents. When he was done he got up, looked at me and asked if I wanted to play a game of pool. I felt so dirty, all I could do was cry.

Later on he apologized to me, swore it would never happen again, and we made up. This seemed to be the way things worked with him. he would hurt me, he'd apologize, i'd take him back, and he'd do it again. He would do other things like call me at night and tell me exactly how he was going to kill himself, and I could hear him playing with the gun in the background. I would do anything to keep him happy. All he would ever tell me was that no one would ever love me like him. That no one could ever care for me again. I thought he was right. About two months after he forced me to have sex with him he hit me. We were out at the movies, and I had tried to help him with something when he flipped out. I didn't know what to do. I was 20 miles form home and had no one to turn to. So i got in the car with him and drove to the mall. I walked around like a zombie, totally out of it, when I walked into a store sat down on the floor and just started sobbing. He came and found me a took me home. When I walked in my mother asked me what was wrong. I told her that he had hit me, and showed her the huge welt across my leg. She looked at me and said that I must have deserved it.

Despite all of this I still stayed with him, for two more years. We went out for a total of 4 years, 4 years I wish I could reclaim of my life. It had been 4 years since we broke up and my mother still believes that he is wonderful. Just when I thought I was getting my life back he popped up again. I went home for a high school football game and he was there. Neither of us spoke ot one another, but two days later when I was back at school I received an e-mail from him. Asking why I was so nasty to him, and telling me how he was right that no one would ever love me again.

For the last 4 years I believed that to be true and have had many different boyfriends and sexual partners. I feel so dirty so useless, like he really was telling the truth, that no one could ever love me again. Then I began listening to Tori, she made me feel like it was possible to fight back, to regain my life. It is still very hard for me to talk about this with anyone. Only one person knows and that is my room mate. I hope that one day I can regain my self-confidence and self worth and find love again.

Lexi
 


reading through your experience and other's honestly made me really really upset, that such horrible things can happen to us. but at the same time, it really made me feel like wow, there are a lot of people out there, that understands the shame, pain and feeling of utter vulnerability. my first sexual abuse happened when i was 4, when bunch of kindergartner boys surrounded me and played with my genitals. the kindergarten teachers didn't do anything about it, and i was soo confused, because with these boys i had to pretend to be happy to get along. and then, i was around 12, for about a year my father basically physically and sexually abused me, and his reasoning was that because i was his daughter, i was created by him and therefore my body belonged to him.

and i am not going into details, but,honestly till this day, there are times when i am completely frozen by the fear of men. a month ago, i started going to gym. and yeah, some men flirt with me, and ask me for my number. but i'm soo damn scared of them because they are at my father's age, when he assaulted me and for God's sake, i kept on having nightmares that i get raped by all these men. sometimes i can't even go out at night because these dreams were soo real. i lock myself in my apartment, and i cry.

how do you with our sexuality? how can we start to trust men? you know. for a loong time i wanted to become a prostitute.. do you get that feeling? i feel like an unpaid prostitute. i wanted to get all these men, who pick on young girls, in bed and chop their penis off. seriously. i can understand why most of people in death row are there. too many times unhealed victims become the vice of the society and preditors.

i believe seriously right after we get raped, assaulted, we should report it. too many of us, including myself keep it to ourselves. we tend to keep it to ourselve when such shameful things happen to us. and yeah, i have a lot of anger inside of me, because you know why, these preditors go on with their lives and probably have families and wives and kids. a rapist father. and what about us? we spend so much time and energy coping with the pain.

when someone murders people we care for, we try our hardest to find that murderer and convict him. why can't we find stronger dignity and love for ourselves so that when someone rapes us, we put him/(and sometimes it's her) in jail. like you said, we are killed inside. rapists are murderers of our souls.
 


I guess my story isn't considered rape because there wasn't actual intercourse, but I'm finally able to admit to myself that I am a victim. This is hard to tell, but here goes:

I had just turned 18 and had set off for my first year in college. I was horribly lonely because I had left my family, best friend/love of my life (though I didn't know it at the time) in my home state. I was very naive then and I latched onto the first guy who seemed to give a damn about me. Honestly he was really a nice guy and was very affectionate with me, which I enjoyed (I'm a sucker for attention). We spent lots of time together and were occaisionally intimate. Nothing serious--nothing below the waist. I told him I was a virgin and planned to remain that way. He was OK with that and didn't really pressure me at all for sex, though he did try to get me to go down on him and wanted to go down on me. I do remember one time I thought he was trying to take my pants off and I got scared and told him to stop. He said something to the effect of,"Hey, is this a trust thing? Do you not trust me?" Can you believe I felt guilty after that? I should have listened to my gut when he said that...

So one night we went out with some friends to the park and just hung out for awhile. I said I was getting tired and had an early class in the morning and needed to go home. He and I went back to my dorm where my roommate had some company of her own. She was a real bitch and refused to let me in. I look back on this now and wish I had barged in and beat the shit out of her...but like I said, I was very sweet and naive.

He offered to go to his place. I accepted.

When we got to his tiny rented house, I had a weird feeling again...should've listened. I didn't quite feel safe. I got into his bed, or I guess I should say mattress, and tried to relax. We kissed for awhile and then I told him I had to get to sleep. He begged for more than just kisses from me and I refused. He finally stopped and I fell asleep.

I woke up in a daze and realized I had nothing on from the waist down...and his head was between my legs. I was still groggy and wasn't sure what exactly was going on. When I discovered what was happening I kicked his head away, jumped up, grabbed my clothes, and went back to my dorm. Now, I know many out there are saying "why did you make him stop? why didn't you let him finish? that's supposed to be fun!" Yeah? WELL IT WASN'T. That's what makes telling this so hard, because of reactions like that. Think about it. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin who had just left home for the first time and woke up half naked in a guy's bed and I had only known him for about a week and a half. I was so upset, but that isn't the end. The funny thing is, he thought he was doing me a favor that night. He kept coming around and then wondered why I didn't want to see him.

A few days later I had been having some health problems "down there" and went to the doctor. It was my first time at the gynecologist. I was diagnosed with herpes. He told me previously that he had it on his mouth, but I never contracted it on mine. It makes me wonder what else he did while I was sleeping. I thought my life was over. He came up to my room and asked me what was wrong (!!). I told him in these exact words, "I have herpes. You gave it to me. You'd better stay as far away from me as you possibly can because my father is looking for you. Get the hell out." The look on his face was priceless. He was absolutely terrified.

My family and the friends I told were really supportive thru it all, but I still felt so empty. During those two semesters I lost my virginity to someone I didn't care about (who then told all his friends, which is how I got the reputation as the Sigma Chi Slut), slept with three other nameless/faceless guys, drank A LOT, did drugs heavily without abandon, gained and then lost 20 pounds, and remained depressed for weeks at a time--getting out of bed only to use the bathroom. I didn't even shower. I was a mess. Eventually I flunked out. But the school year finally ended and I got out...and I went back home.

And here I am today. I am 22 and I have my sanity back. I have a boyfriend (the friend I left behind then) and have been with him for the past three and a half years. He knows I have herpes and he knows how I got it. And he still loves me. He is the most wonderful man I have ever or will ever know. When we first started dating he noticed my depressed state but never knew what was wrong. I cried a lot. When I finally told him, he didn't run away. He stayed right there with me. My family has been just as supportive, though I think my dad still holds a lot of anger towards the guy who did this to me. Hopefully someday he can let go of that anger as I have learned to do. Now and then I get upset when I see a graphic rape scene in a movie and it hurts when ignorant people make jokes about people with herpes. But I just have to realize that there will always be ignorant people in the world. Anyway, I'm healthy (I haven't had a herpes outbreak in almost 2 1/2 years...yay!) and I'm happy for the most part. I know my story doesn't sound as violent or as traumatic as many of those on this site, but it's still MY story and it helps ME to get it out. I hope I have encouraged others like me to realize that they are victims and not blame themselves because they got into a "bad situation". Thanks for letting me share this. This site is a true gift.

Aspen 3/10/99
 



 


4 years back , when I was 16 I was involved with a mentally and physically abusive Guy who soon turned sexually abusive . He forced himself on me and forced me to perform oral sex on him . He would beat me if I refused . He left many finger marks and bruises on my neck and everywhere else he could get his hands on. It became his sick game of torture he would play with me . It got so bad to the extent that he tried to rape me more than once . I was lucky enough to escape his attacks on my virginity . I began to fight back and hurt him enough to get him to release his fiendish grasp for a few moments . I would run for miles in the shadows of the night until I was home and then I would collapse on my bathroom floor in sobs. The only reason it happened more than once was because I feared that if I broke up with him he would surely kill me .

Every time I was alone with him I would always wonder who was going to drive me to the emergency at the end of the night . I feared for my life. Sadly sometimes I wished he would just kill me apposed to the pain he put me through.

I just recently came to terms with what happened and I still don`t remember everything , but I don`t know if I want to .He is the monster that (still) 4 years later haunts my thoughts and dreams . He didn`t take away my virginity , but he took away so much more from me . He took away my sense of myself as a sexual being, my innocence , my ability to feel sexual pleasure and my ability to trust men completely .

There isn`t a day that goes by that I don`t think about the internal scars he left on my heart and soul . I`m just now forgiving myself for putting up with his abuse . For a long time I blamed myself . He led me to believe that I was a bad person . He would say ," It`s your fault . You`re making me do it" . The truth is no one should ever have gone through what I went through regardless of what kind of person you are .

I realize my story is a tragically ordinary story and that makes me deeply sad . I think the saddest part is the silence that is kept by victims out of fear and embarrassment. It`s an awful secret to keep inside yourself . I slowly eats at your soul . Nibbling away all that is good . Leaving you a broken person who feels wasted , spent and angry at the world .

I`ve never shared the whole story with anyone before now . I just tried to push it out and pretend it was ok , but it`s not and it may never be completely ok . I know it just takes a lot of time and tears to finally feel like a whole person again . I`m still on the road to recovery .

I Thank you sooo much for giving voice to those who are bound by their own fearful silence . It`s been very comforting to me to know that I`m not alone and that others have been through a lot worse than I . I am surprised that some who have posted their terrifying stories here are still alive . More people need to be made aware of how often abuse and rape happen . Without acknowledgement of it , the cycle will just keep continuing.

I want to extend a BIG hug to you for your courage and strength to get through such a traumatic experience. I hope others will be able to unlock their silence and begin to heal too.
 
 


 
 
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