It all happened when I just turn 16 years old Seven years ago. I was a normal teen not knowing that my life was going to change as a knew it. I had a boyfriend at the time he seemed to be be a nice caring person at the time, but soon he started to be pushy and trying to get me to have sex with him. I keep pushing him away and saying that I wasn't ready for this kind of relationship. Then the night came my sister went to get her prom dress, and my parents went out for the night. I was on the phone with him when my parents said goodbye to me. I told him that nobody was allowed over because I had a bad feeling about that night. Around a hour later he showed up at my house. Later that night I went into my room to get something and he followed. He pushed me on the bed and raped me. All I remember was trying to push him off of my, and saying NO!! It didn't work he was to heavy to push off. After it was over he through a condom on me and said " I guest we didn't need this" and left the house. I was upset . I went to bed that night and had nightmares after nightmares. When I got up in the morning I got in the shower turned the water on hot and sat in the shower crying. I tried to talk to my best friend but she would listen. I felt so alone I didn't know what to do, so I pushed it so far back into my head and tried to forget that it happened.
A few months later I found out some news which made me have to remember again. I found out that I was pageant. I didn't knew what to do so I hide it. I become so confused, I didn't knew what I was going to do I was only 16. That was when I made my first tried to kill myself. I overdose on ever pill that I could find in the house. A few week later I lost the baby. I still remember the pain and seeing the blood. That made me fell even more useless, and I once again pushed it away, and tried to go on with my life. I was pushing everyone away, then I started to see a guy about 6 months later. I was trying to get him to not like me, but he would leave me. I fell in love with this guy. He found out that I was raped when he went to kiss me and I freak out. It seemed to help a bit.
Then two years ago I started to get depressed again, wenting to kill myself. Depression runs in my family. I seen movies about rape the was my trigger. I started to exercising ever day, and then stop eating. I started to shut out everyone in my life, and losing weight. In two weeks I lost 20 pounds, became sick. I couldn't get up in the mornings, I was late for work almost everyday. I became anger at everyone, I was becoming so sheltered inside. Then I seemed to snap out of it.
Then this year came and my boyfriend ask me to marry him. Everything seemed fine again, but what I realized that it wasn't. I started to fall back into my habits again. I stop eating, and became depressed. It got so bad that I started to pass out ever morning. Then the first week of December I lost my job because of my depression. I became very suicidal, and I ended up in the hospital. The doctors wanted to keep me there but my parents wouldn't let them. That when I went to the family doctor and he put my on prozac, and set up a time with a doctor of psychiatry. I been going to him for a few months and still see him on a regularly.
Still I have a hard time dealing with the rape and I still have times when I fell it was my felt that this happened to me. Nobody seems to understand what I'm going through. My life feels like it over, I lost my job we are barley able to support yourselves and I fell that it all my felt that I let it do this to me. I can hardly found it in my to get up ever mornings.
Please help me get through this. I feel like a lost soul.
One night, my friends Jon and Eric asked me to sneak out with them. Jon drives so I snuck out one night at like 12:00pm. We drove around a bit and then Jon stopped at Meijer. Me and Eric waited in the car and we began fooling around and just making out. Jon finally came back to the car and showed Eric what he got at the store, but I couldn't see. Eric laughed. We went to a park and Eric said he was going to go play basketball. So me and Jon just stayed in the car and talked. I was in the back seat and he was in the front and he climbed back with me. I just thought he wanted to sit with me. He started telling me things like "your so beautiful" and I just laughed it off. He started kissing me and groping me and I told him I didn't want this. He shoved my head on the side of the car and It hurt so bad I was in shock...I saw him grab the bag, he took out a condom and put it on. He undid my pants and started to get on top of me. I tried to scream but nothing came out but a little yelp. HE pinned me down and he raped me so hard. It felt like I was being torn open. He finishes and looks at me and grins..hops out of the car and goes and plays basketball with Eric. He took me home and Kissed me and said "thanks had fun."
The next day at school all his friends knew about it and were calling me a whore. Eric thinks I willingly had sex with him. Sometimes I think I did to because it pisses me off that I couldn't stop him. I see him every day and every day he avoids me or looks at me like a stranger....like a worthles piece of shit. And this was my friend.
I was just a baby. Pure..... and chaste. I loved all the things little girls do, and smiled at nothing.... and was happy. I laughed a lot, and giggled and jumped around and danced and played with my brother. I was always a very fortunate kid. I was born into a family with two half-brothers, and a half-sister.... a darling mother, an absentee father.... but hey, I never took any notice. I never missed out on paternity in my life. How can you miss something you've never had, right?
My mother was and is an angel on earth. She deserves nothing but the best that life has to offer, and in the past, she simply looked in the wrong places to find it. She met him. She fell in love. And he was fun, a lot like a father to us. I was the youngest child, the most vulnerable and giddy.... easily influencable. He swayed all of us.... such a charmer.
He had a house built out in the middle of the boonies.... the center of nowhere.... very woodsy. He liked to hunt. Always to expect the aroma of burning wood and coals upon approaching the outdoors... his plantation... my field of dreams and death. My mother and I would spend the weekends with him, like a real family. He was sweet.... and said he loved spending time with me. I thought he wanted to be my dad.
About a year into the relationship.... I was 5.... and he was cheating. My mother never knew. I was the only one he exposed it to. I was young, and he insisted that this other woman was no one. He said they were all no one.... each and every woman he managed to reel in with my goldilocks fairytale as bait. And I was confused. How could such animated faces carry with them no soul from which to apply as a human? There were many... and he would introduce them as "friends".
They took me places, to a room.... I don't remember whose.... I look back now, and think it was a hotel, but could be wrong. I was 5. They took me to a room.... and I remember never wanting to leave the door, so I just stared outside the window when they were in the bedroom. I remember the television, and the wallpaper, and even the f**king blueprints of which wall was where. I could hear things, loud things, and thought maybe they were arguing or playing a game or something. Then they came back.... into the other room.... with me.... I was still looking out the window. He said, "Come on back here with us." No. I wanted my mom and had no idea who this other woman was. He assured me everything was fine, and took my hand and led me into the bedroom with her. The next thing I knew, I was on the bed next to them while they engaged in intercourse. I was 5. I had no idea what was going on, but thought it would be over with soon, at least I prayed. I never mentioned the incident to my mother. And she never knew he had cheated in the beginning. To be honest, I never thought anything was wrong. I shouldn't have... I was 5. I just thought that it was something everyone did... that way... whenever. And as long as I was "okay", then maybe one day... I would really be okay. Then one night, she was working late. My mother was working late and I was at his house when she called to inform us that her car had broken down at a gas station on the other side of town. She asked him to put me in the car and come and get her before it got too terribly cold. He was drunk. She didn't know that. So he did. The next thing I remember is being in the truck with him.... I can still hear the sound of his breathing.... his bloated body sticking to the leather interior of the truck..... his feet grinding against the floorboard. I was 5. And scared. I was worried about my mom, and thought maybe something had happened.... he never bothered to tell me what was really going on. I remember crying. I was 5. And he panicked.... didn't know what to do. I wanted my mom, and he couldn't just hand her to me. He reached over and put his hand on my knee. He had never done it before.... I didn't like it. So I cried harder. The more I cried, the more he touched me..... the harder I cried, the more aggressive he became. He assured me that he was doing nothing wrong, and I can still taste the salt of my own tears as he pulled the truck over on the side of the deserted road. I blacked out after that. The next thing I remember is the sound of my own two feet hitting the ground as I fell out of the truck and ran to my mother, who had leaned down to catch me as I ran. She never knew. He told me not to tell, threatened my mother's safety, etc. I was 5. So no one knew.
To this day and always, I will have trouble voicing the word. It's as if I look back, and I'm terrified and trapped and liberated and freezing and mute at the same time. I see him in 5 year-old eyes, and I can't trust a 5 year-old who I've never really known.... never even introduced to. So help me Goddess.... it was morbid. And I see that now, and wonder what it was that I said that would make him turn that way. On me. The daughter of the woman he "loved". It wasn't only that he took what was mine in ever sense of the word, but he degraded every part of me in his "manner" of doing it... getting it over with quickly.... no mess.
The next day..... I was in the bathtub playing. As if nothing had ever happened. I loved baths, and I loved the smell of soap and feeling so clean. I didn't feel clean that day, tho. And it was rough. I was 5 and stayed in the water until my skin was loose and wrinkled, and it wasn't until I felt the first of the excruciating pains that I got out of the tub. I was playing with the soap, washing myself, and I began to burn. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.... and to this day, have never felt it again. Soap isn't supposed to hurt you down there. I bathed myself like that all the time, and never experienced any pain before, much less stabs that sent me screaming through the house like a wild animal. I ran to my brothers and sister.... told them I was in pain..... and was ignored. They thought I was crying wolf. And I was crying. My mother wasn't there, and I remember going back into the bathroom and sitting.... rocking back and forth until the pain lessened, and then finally going back to my original activities when it was all over. As if nothing had ever happened. I was 5.
A week went by. I spent the next weekend with my grandmother and great-aunt. I had been afraid to get back into the bathtub during that time, and they wanted to know why. I told them why, for what I could.... for a 5 year old. I didn't know what had happened to me, other than the fact that certain parts of me hurt now when I would do certain things, so now.... I was afraid to do them. It hit.... they thought he had maybe touched me.... I couldn't explain the rest.... they told my mother..... and she became enraged. Unbeknownst to me.... something had happened with my sister. He and my sister. He had made pass at her. She was 8 years older than me.... could detect those things, right and wrong, good or bad. She told my mother right away.
One Sunday morning, my mother got up at the crack of dawn and got in the car to go see him.... to beat the hell out of him if she could, to ask him why. It was raining. She wasn't thinking clearly. Her car crashed into the side of a bridge. She broke several limbs and was hospitalized, then came home with a broken spirit. I knew she was hurt, I knew he was gone.... and naturally, I thought I had taken away the fantasy she had created for herself. He was good to her, or so thought at the time. She had been happy. And even now, if given the chance, I would have endured much more than the rape to see her that happy again. He was gone after that.
I immediately forgot the incident after it happened.... the pain went away, why not the memory of it, as well? So I forgot. But I was also crying out and scared to death. My father came back to visit me.... and I was comfortable around him.... until the second visit. He brought his girlfriend along for me to meet, thought maybe the three of us could go out.... become aquainted.... and all I remember is looking out the door and seeing another no one in the passenger's seat of my the car, and I panicked. It wasn't him.... this was my father, right? He wouldn't do those things.... make me do those things. But I still couldn't trust him. I didn't want to be back in that cold hotel room.... even tho I wouldn't have been anyway, at least not that night. I got older, built up a perfectly strong exterior to cover my frailty... and everyone bought it, even tho my thoughts were twisted. I craved the pain. He had told me what he was doing wasn't wrong.... and what he was doing was killing me slowly.... so that was right in my eyes. And I did. I loved the feel of the blade, and not just any blade.... my knife, Rachel. In the beginning, she was a secrurity blanket.... and then she and I became even friendlier. And the pressure was the only outlet that took immediate effect.
When I was 12... giving the pills a break, for once.... I needed something else. I already hated me, the way I looked, so why not tear that apart? I decided.... lose a hell of a lot of weight..... do anything you possibly can to become invisible and then no one would ever look at you again. And it worked. I lost 45 pounds during the summer of '94.... and I was in pain all the time.... and I loved it. I was weak, tired, and decided.... f**k it.... I'm going to be a cheerleader. And I made the squad.... co-captain.... and injured my back mid-season. No calcium.
Throughout this time, my best friend was on the team with me. I helped her get on the squad, we were inseparable.... even switched boyfriends once or twice. I thought she was the best person I had to talk to, but little did I know that she had problems of her own. Earlier in the year, she had confessed to my boyfriend that her father had been molesting she and her little sister for years, even up to the point of junior high. So my boyfriend call human services, and social workers were sent to the the school for my friend, and to talk with us. I knew then that I would never endure the pain and noise of actually coming clean with my story.
So basically, she and I were both f**ked up. And I liked that.... I liked having a friend who knew what I was thinking and what I didn't want. And I was afraid of losing that. In that time, she began to have feelings for me. I never knew that her intentions were of that nature. One night, I had spent the night with her to work on choreographing and mixing the music for a cheer routine, and we had been drinking, and she confessed how she felt, in detail, and what she had been fantasizing. I was terrified, numb, a 5 year-old again, and scared to death that I would lose my best f**ked up friend if I didn't do what she wanted. But I said no. Again. And she persisted. Begged. And we were drinking and I was so tired..... I just wanted to sleep and wake up in the morning and forget the conversation ever existed. But she wasn't jiving with the same idea. And she pleaded with me and whined.... and the alcohol was setting in and my head hurt, so I gave in.... and that was that. I can still hear the background music of Celine Dion in her bedroom.... I had purchased the CD ealier that day when we we shopping, also bought a beautiful satin dress which hung from her closet. I remember staring at it that night for what felt like hours. That cheer routine was never completed.
I felt awful the next morning, and kept asking her, "Did that change anything? How am I supposed to be now? You're a girl... you're my best friend... I have a boyfriend..... I can't believe we did that." And she assured me that it was all in fun, everything she thought it would be... in this tone of indignance.... she got what she wanted. My mother picked me up.... I went home.... and was silent for days. My friend and I rarely spoke after that.... I tried to create the feeling of friendship with Rachel and a pen..... and Rachel was winning. When we did "speak", it was awkward and competitive and sadistic. She would approach me and tell me of her latest conquest with one of the other girls in class.... but reassure me that she wasn't nearly as good as me. I felt so coiled and small and filthy. And I learned to stop putting up with it.
Later, we found out that my friend had supposedly lied about the entire incident with her father... that it had never happened... just another cry for attention.... everything that I was afraid would be thought of me.
I can't even believe I just wrote about that. For the longest, I thought.... well, it wasn't what I wanted.... I'm not that way.... but maybe it was a sexual experience that I was controlling myself in.... but I wasn't.... and I was perfectly quiet and still.... like a 5 year-old. I still have that f**king dress and can't even listen to Celine anymore (not that I want to anyway).
I never came out and told anyone everything that happened. When I was 5, or when I was 14. I didn't want anyone to think that I was trying to get attention, trying to become something that I wasn't.... someone to pity. I'm not. It happened, and it's a constant struggle to deal with everyday. But I do hope that the real world will welcome me into its arms one of these days, if I deserve it. I remember my friend suggesting Tori to me a few summers ago. I thought, "Okay, I'll give her a listen." I locked myself in my room and cried for the entire week afterwards. How could one voice, one spirit, make me feel alive again? Tori gave me the strength to speak again, to remember that I have a right to feel all that I do, that it wasn't my fault, that I am still a part of something. But it's still hard to believe at times. I don't want to be a victim anymore. "I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in.... just what God needs... one more victim." That line reeled me in..... so much truth to one lyric and i was captivated.
I'll never be able to go back and save myself, salvage what may be left of that little girl's spirit. I doubt there is much left. He made me so old that night. And bitter. Cynnical. But I write.... his eyes prompted that. I owe him nothing more than what hell has to offer. Karma will beat the bastard down. Something has to... right? Something has to grow from all of this.... there has to be something more over the bridge....
when I was two my mother married her second husband my first step father. he was physically and mentally abusive. I was a strong willed child (like my daughter) and he wanted to break me. but I was tuff and he could never succeed. I would humiliate him in public even though he would beat me half to death when we got home. I did this a lot so I must have thought it was worth it. he would tell me he loved me and that he was my real father, then he would say they found me in a shoe box. but his favorite was to say that if it were not for him I would have been given away years ago. I found out later that when my mom would not comply with him he would come after me and beat me until I could no longer take it or she gave in. this went on until I was about four and then it got bad. I was told my mother was having a baby. I was excited. I would have someone to play with and talk to and I would not be so alone. and a part of me also thought that the beatings would slow down. boy was I wrong. my step father told me "when the baby comes no one will even notice you are here and then you will know that I am the only reason you are still around and then you'll owe me." and he was right that's when the raping started. memories of me being cut open with a knife because I was to small to be penetrated. objects being used such as bottles and broom sticks were used. he told me that if I ever told anyone they would not live to tell anyone else. and I believed him. then one day when I was about six I decided to open my mouth. I told his brother. he was killed on the way to a pool hall where his girlfriend was waiting. he told his girlfriend to meet him there he had something very important to tell her. she was my moms best friend. he never made it. he was killed by a hit and run driver while riding his bike. the memory came back in a dream. I saw men screaming at me I was at their knee level. then someone slammed the phone down and I was dragged out of the house and into a truck where I was then told, "this will teach you to never open your mouth again." he was right. I found out latter that his brother and I were very close. my mom said I loved him a lot. I have no memories of him other than the sound of his bike being crushed by the truck I was in.
it seems that as long as you are a victim other men see this and take advantage of it. between my mothers boyfriends and a few relatives there were about eight foundlings and one success after that. when I finally got the nerve to tell my mom I had to pry her of the phone with her new boyfriend. she said, "if anything like this ever happens again tell me." a week later we moved in with her new boyfriend. I was 10. she told her new boyfriend everything and he said to me "I would never do anything like that to you unless you wanted me to." hetried I kicked him in the balls and got away. my mom said, "at least he didn't go all the way." she stayed: I left. I lived with my second step dad until he miss took me for my mom. then I left there to.
as a result I did a lot of drugs, but I never died. one day I woke up and said if you want to die do it other wise STOP. and I did.
after years of hating that little girl so much I referred to her as she not me, I was in a GED class trying to get my diploma, I was giving a friend directions to my house. two days latter roger showed up. my brother (yes the same one) called and said a friend left him at a store. he asked me to not tell mom because the kid had done it to him before and if she found out he would never be allowed to go out with this person again. roger offered to take me to get him. (stupid huh.) after we picked up my brother and his friend he went and bought some beer. he was the only one old enough to drink. I had two. my brother and his friend drank until they passed out. we took them home. it was early only 10:00 p.m.. so he asked if I wanted to go shot pool so I did. I wanted to go home about 12 am. we left. I had no idea where we were and than he pulled into the woods and I knew. for the next four and a half hours I talked, cried, and schemed I even tried to get away. I said I have to pee with no shoes on I was going to run into the woods. he grabbed my arm and followed me never letting go.
I wrote a letter to my inner child. it was angry. how could you be so weak and stupid. how could you let this happen. if I were there I would have never let that happen. well guess what I was. and I was all grown up and I still could not stop it. in a sick way my rape helped to heal myself and the child in me. it was funny I saw a cop show 21 jump street a few weeks before and the cop was raped. the first thing she did was take a shower. I yelled at her and said "no stupid you have to go to the hospital so they can catch him. you know the first thing I did. put the shower as hot as it would go and I scrubbed. but like you it did no good.
that was a very humbling night for me and in a strange way I'm glad it happened.
