It happened a year ago, when I was 18. A friend, Greg, who I hadn't talked to for a long time called, and invited me to see a movie with him. I had been planning on staying in and studying for exams, but I thought it would be ok to go out for a couple hours. I still don't remember which movie we saw, maybe it was just one of the things I blocked out about the night.
After the movie, I thought he was going to take me home, but instead he pulled into a popular spot by the lake, and wanted to go for a walk. We did, but only briefly, because it was really cold outside. Once we were back in the car, he turned the heat on, then leaned over to kiss me. I pulled away, and told him I was seeing someone, so I couldn't. He didn't listen, and kept trying to kiss me. At this time, I wasn't scared, just annoyed.
Next thing I know, he's got one of those Swiss Army knives out, and he's holding it against my neck. I don't know how he managed to do it so quickly, without me realizing what he was doing. That's when I started to get scared. He was on top of me, and kissing and touching me, and telling me that I had been flirting with him all night, so I wanted it. He said that I 'owed' him for the movie, which he paid for. That was the last time I've ever let a guy pay for anything.
Around this time, I started crying. He hit me and told me to 'shut up,' then ripped off my shirt. I felt paralyzed, but it didn't occur to me to scream, or try to fight him off.
I began thinking that I would never see my friends or family again. I was worried that they would find me in some ditch the next day. At one point, he put the knife down, but pinned my hands above my head. He finished taking off my clothes, then undid his pants. I remember still crying, but not wanting to make him mad. It was like he was another person, this wasn't the guy who'd been my friend for five years. I wasn't a virgin at the time, but it was still incredibly painful. I remember looking at the clock, and the glowing lights said it was 12:36.
At this time, I started to tune him out. It's almost as though what he was doing wasn't to me, but to someone else, and I was just a passive observer. I began thinking about my upcoming Europe trip, and how last year's trip had been so much fun, but this one would be even better, since my best friend was coming. Maybe that's what got me through it.
When he was done, he threw my clothes at me, and told me to get out of his car. I broke down, and I guess the full extent of what happened hit me. I felt like a part of me had died. Maybe it had.
I half stumbled, half ran to my best friend's boyfriend's house, which was close by. I was a complete mess when I showed up at his door, my clothes were torn, I was crying uncontrollably, and my whole body was sore.
My friend came to pick me up, and I told her briefly what happened. She wanted me to report it, or go to the hospital, but I just wanted to be alone, so she dropped me off at home.
I felt so dirty. I had a shower, turning on the water as hot as possible, desperately trying to make myself clean again, to get him off me After an hour, I felt just as dirty as I originally did, but I was exhausted. I went back to my room, put Me and a Gun on repeat, and listened to it for the entire night.
Now its just over a year later, and I haven't really told anyone. I thought that by moving away, and coming to university, I would be able to forget the past, and for a while I was. Well, I never really forgot, but I managed to repress it in the back of my mind. But all of a sudden, I started getting the flashbacks again, and now I'm thinking about it non-stop.
I feel so lonely. It doesn't make sense, because I have a lot of friends here, and I'm involved in some really amazing extracurricular activities, but I feel like I can't relate to anyone, and that no one would understand. I'm scared to tell my friends, because I don't want to be known as 'the girl who got raped,' and I don't know how they would react. It's so hard to keep it inside though. It's like its draining me of everything I have. I'm sick of putting on an act, I want people to know how I really feel. I don't know what to do.
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i can't even thing what i'm trying to put into words here. i have always suffered from depression, so when my younger sister was going through tough times it affected me too. it affected everyone in the family. after she began abusing drugs, and constantly running away from home she told the cops that brought her back about how she was sexually abused by our next door neighbor. this hit so far home. this is never the thing that you want to even hear about and you think it could never happen to you, but it does. it happens a lot more often than you think. when charges were being pressed we found out that he had also raped and abused his granddaughter that i grew up with, and probably his own daughter as well. he beat his sons. i can't remember much of my childhood, and sometimes i wonder in there is a reason why. during this time the slightest thing would set my sister off and she'd have flashbacks, and i'd sit with her for hours and we would clutch each other and hold on so tight to each other and cry, and cry. this could have been me... i was petrified, and still am. i have a hard time letting anyone get close to me anymore. where as all of my friends used to be guys, now i only hang around with other women. any and every situation scares me. i can't be alone in a group of men, or even with one man. i get seized with panic and can't do anything. i can't ever see myself as a sexual person. anything that has to do with sex is still part of me, but it feels almost like it is another person entirely, separated from me. the man that did this to her was in his 80's, and even though he was prosecuted, he got off with 5 yrs probation which included not having contact with any minors, and a deferred sentence of 2 yrs. and even though he has already violated his parole no one will do anything about it. he still lives next door, and it scares me to even look in that direction.
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When I was younger, I hung out a lot with my cousins. They were both male, one a year older than me, the other about two years younger. We played together, laughed together, did a lot together. We used to play games of make-believe.... Their basement was a magical place that turned into mountains, or a secret fortress where evil lurked.... Anywhere we imagined.
Looking back now, I can think of times when I should have seen how... wrong... they looked at me. I remember when we used to play at the park, we'd play games of tag. One day they decided to invent "flash tag"... and proceeded to flash their penises at me..... I can still see them.... pre-pubescent.... That day, I suddenly stopped eating hot dogs. My mom always attributed it to the fact I was a picky eater who changed tastes day to day. The truth was, looking at a sausage or hot dog especially brought me back to the moments where they exposed themselves. But I never thought anything of it. Boys will be boys. That's what I thought of the time when I was three and my older cousin convinced me to pull down my pants and expose myself for him.... I mean he was four! A four year old sex fiend? Please.....
And then I look back to our make-believe games, and remember how as I approached ten, the games started involving romances, you know, like in Speed, or a James Bond movie? I thought nothing of that. Being the only female, I of course played that action heroine/girlfriend. But then realism entered the game, and I soon found myself being told to lie down and pretend to have sex with my older cousin, "for the game". It made me feel bad, wrong, uncomfortable, but I seldom protested. I didn't want to lose the respect of my cousins...... So sick that I wanted their respect... But at that time I was a loner at school. I had few friends. I didn't want to lose a friend.... And I thought it was just me..... And then my life changed.
It was the Christmas time, I think New Year's Eve. My family and I were over at my cousins house. The adults were all upstairs in the living room and we of course went down to the basement. I had just turned ten that month. We began playing a game of truth or dare.... the dares were pretty silly at first, like pretending to be on fire..... And then they took a sexual twist..... First it was telling sexual stories, which of course fascinated the boys who were already looking through Playboys..... me, I was kinda curious but somewhat uncomfortable... Then it turned to acting out sexual storylines.... And soon my older cousin, I'll call him Bill, suggested we use an indicator, and have each of us spin to see what dare we'd have..... All of them were sexual..... And I remember not wanting to, remember protesting, but I was soon overruled by Bill... My younger cousin wasn't so sure either but went along with it..... Me, I think... I think I was afraid to say no..... And so it began.....
Through the game, I at various points had one of them touching my breasts (I grew them pretty early, and was already a B cup), or pretending to have intercourse with me, or whatever..... During that time, I dreaded each turn taken by one of us, dreaded that I'd be touched again..... Every time they got on me, I kinda went away.... left my body..... I didn't want to be there..... After an hour it ended.... And my and my younger cousin's protests won out at last...
Every time I go back to that time, I wish I'd left the room, gone upstairs, told my mom, something..... I didn't have to do that damn it! Didn't have to let them be on me......... And the sick thing was, they enjoyed it, my older cousin especially! An 11 year old pervert...... God.....
But that wasn't all for me.......... Two years later, my younger cousin was visiting at my dad's house (my parents had just split up and I was visiting my dad). My cousin and I went upstairs to talk and hang out, and he and I started talking about all of the crazy things we'd done as kids. And then that night came up...... And to my surprise, my cousin told me very plainly that he wanted to play it again.
I felt ten years old again........ so small, tiny...... unable to speak...... and like a robot, I let him touch my breasts, feel me, touch me..... bounce on me like a soft core porn star....... I left my body again, just pretended I was numb.......
And then my shorts were shifted, and I felt him poking at my entrance, and felt so sick, so wrong...... but I never called out....... I let him do whatever, lay there..... he immitated sexual positions on me like a blow up doll...... Guess I was his practice session for a girlfriend he hoped to have....... Not once did I ever stop him......... I don't know why I fell so silent. I knew it was wrong, gross, sick....... but stayed quiet.....
It's my silence, I think, my lack of fighting, that kept my silent all these years (speaking of which, that song has given me the courage to write this)..... I felt I wasn't assaulted, I was simply stupid..... I felt like I had to be twisted or perverted too.....
I never told my parents or family, and only a few friends know. I tried to deal with this in therapy a while back, but I couldn't, I was too ashamed. And I was scared that the counsellor would tell me I was sick and to blame....... Crazy isn't it? I still fear that...... What I will never forget is their enjoyment....... How used I was..... They feel no guilt! None!!! How can they not feel dirty as I feel? Don't they know how many times I've cried?
It was only recently that I have been working at seeing myself as a victim. In therapy, I was discussing how I always let guys talk me into sexual contact, and how I always feel I need to do that to keep a guy...... I'm still a virgin, but I've performed sexual acts for boyfriends and all that I only did for them..... And then I figured that maybe it's because of what happened before.......
I've found solace and comfort from Sarah Mclachlan, and Jewel, but Tori Amos and her music is a gift to me from the gods..... At a low time this past Christmas, I had broken up with my fiance and wanted to die....... Felt so worthless..... And I turned to her for comfort through her latest CD, the only one I owned. Over Christmas I bought her other three, needing more comfort, feeling that she understood me..... I remember I cried listening to Me and a Gun (and still do almost every time).... And Silent All These Years gave me strength too...... Then I heard Icicle....
And it's that song that speaks to me most.
"I could have, I should have, I could have flown you know/I could have,
I should have / I didn't....so...."
Even now, I look at what lies above these words and think, who am I to complain about what happened? So many worse things happen to women each day, brutal rapes, kidnapping....... My experience was nowhere near as bad..... I have to struggle to remember that pain is pain...... and violation is violation...... And no matter how silent I was then, inside I was NOT willing.
Thanks for listening, whoever might read this. 8 years have gone by and I'm still waiting for somebody to understand me, and tell me I'm not evil..... Maybe someday, that somebody can be me.
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When it was over, he went to the refrigerator, took the beers out, and told me I didn't deserve them. Then he said " I don't like you or anything, I was just horny". I called my best friend at the time, and told her I needed help, but she said she was busy and could I call her back later-I never did. I called my brother, but I didn't know what to tell him. I thought it was my fault. I thought -I had invited him over and I had let him touch me, so it wasn't rape. I didn't know what it was, but it wasn't rape. So I told my brother, and my father that this person had "tried to rape me". They didn't believe me. They said he was too nice of a guy to do something like that. I spent the next 3 years facing this man. Having him come on family vacations with us, and sleeping over at my house, since he continued to be my brother's best friend. He would wait until no one was around us and then he'd tell me what a bitch, slut or whore I was.
I am now 28 years old and I have never been kissed, but I have been raped. I am afraid of relationships. How do I explain to someone that I am a damaged virgin?
I have told some of my friends my story, but I cannot give them the feelings that come with it: hurt, anger, sadness, loss, guilty, dirty, empty,betrayal,alone, changed.
The secret emotional handshake of survivors.
Annie