It is funny how we put aside, but never really forget....
As I read through the many stories of rape and abuse, I began to feel a little sick to my stomach. It is hard to accept that these things happen in the world and I only wish that I could understand why.
When I was 9 years old I was molested by our next door neighbor. Denial is a strange thing and began weaving it's web right from the start. I remember at first I thought the little touches were just an accident. My father, my little sister, Floyd (the man who violated me), his two sons, along with various other neighborhood children, would go to this feild to play softball. Every now and then Floyd would give me a piggy back ride. Everything was fine except that his hands always seemed to touch me in that private place (for lack of a better word). I assumed that he didn't mean to do it and never really spoke about it. Sometimes he would come over to visit when my dad was away on business trips. He would chat with my stepmother and offer to brush my hair. One day some friends of the family came to our house and told us that Floyd had violated their daughter who was a friend of mine that spent the night a lot. They said they wanted to warn us. My friend was a little slow and my parents played it off. They did not want to believe that our neighbor, their friend, was doing such things. I did not want to believe it either (despite the warning signs). I have not seen my friend or the family since then. A lot of the neighbor hood children suddenly stopped coming to play hide and seek and softball. It seems like it was so clear... My father found a nice house in a nearby town that he wanted us to move into. He made a lot of trips moving things with our red truck and then one night he decided we were ready to stay there. Floyd was helping us to move things along with another neighbors son and we all had to pile into the three seat truck. My father drove, my little sister rode on the neighbors son's lap, and I on Floyd's lap. I don't know how he was able to do what he did to me without anyone taking notice. It was night time, maybe that allowed him to do as he wished. Somehow he had managed to unzip my pants (and I heard the sound of the zipper clear as the sun that shines in our eyes) and fit his hand inside the small opening it provided. I don't think I knew a whole lot about sex, but I knew enough to know that it was wrong. I was afraid to move or to say a word. I didn't want to draw attention to what was happening so I let him do what he did to me. I fought with myself for nearly the whole portion of the 20 minute ride, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I pulled his hand out of my pants. When we got home I ran in the house. My stepmother told me to take a shower and get ready for bed. I went into the bathroom and turned the shower on, but I did not get in. It wasn't uncommon for my parents to leave Floyd with us while they went to get coffee. I needed to be on guard if he tried to come into the bathroom and I did not want to be naked for any amount of time. I quickly changed into my nightgown and turned off the water. When I left the bathroom I was relieved to see my parent's still there and ran to my room. A moment later my stepmom knocked on my door and asked me why I hadn't taken a shower. I lied to her and told her I did and she said "then why didn't you use any soap?" So I began crying and I told her what had happened in the truck. She asked if I was mistaken and if I was sure he wasn't just trying to tickle me. I told her no I was most definitely not mistaken. She asked my sister if anything had ever happened to her. She said no and seemed to mean it. I begged my stepmother not to tell my dad. I was afraid of what he might think. She left my room and I wrote about it in my diary.
She did end up telling my father after he took Floyd home. The next day as my dad went to pick up the last of our belongings Floyd asked my dad if he needed any help. I was told that my dad told him firmly, "we dont need your help at all."
It was heartbreaking way to not feel like daddy's little girl anymore...
A few days after all this, I came home from school and there was a PI sitting at the table with my diary near him on the table. I didn't like him at all. He asked me questions and I would not answer him. He then opened my diary and read aloud the things I had wrote about that night in front of me and my stepmom. I was horrified and felt I could not be in alliance with someone who would do that to me. I refused to cooperate and I never saw the PI again. I had also hoped that I would never see Floyd again. Through all these years a question has stuck in my mind: What makes a man want to touch a little girl like that?
I think that because of this experience, I have had been damned. I do not enjoy sex for very long in a relationship. Not in a natural pure way (if that even exists). In order for me to "get off" I often have to imagine that men are taking advantage of me and often Floyd's face pops into my mind. I don't know how to stop thinking this way and I feel as though I have dealt with what has happened to me the best I could.
At the time that I told the PI to go to hell, I guess I thought I did what was best for me, but years later I saw Floyd walking with his wife and older son. I froze up and just watched him from across the street, smiling and pointing as they spent their day window shopping. He never noticed me which I am grateful for. Suddenly a new guilt swept over me.... I had allowed him to walk and to more than likely do this to many other little girls like myself. I carry that guilt to this day but what can I do now?
It is 12 years later. I have my own daughter and I am scared to death that someone will try to cut down her flower of innocence. I am afraid that it could be even worse for her, as it is for many of you. Often I am thankful that that is all that happened to me, and I feel bad sharing this space with most of you. I hope that you understand.
I have a hard time listening to Tori, because of her ability to make someone feel beautiful. I long to find that lovely woman inside of me, but it is painful to face the trail of demons that lead to her. I am angry that we were forced to grow up so fast, but I hope that we can see how this has made us who we are today. I only hope that someday we can look inside, and be proud of who these experiences have made us and then shed the ugly skin that has been forcefully inflicted upon us, forever....
Take good care all you lovely people,
Moonvoid
AIM: m00nv0id
My name is Chelsea and I'm 16 years old. On New Years Eve this year I was raped by my oldest sisters husband. My sister walked in on it. I don't know how to describe the thoughts going through my head. I cant even look at myself naked in a mirror without having the urge to vomit. CPS was recently notified and I'm very aware of what that entails. I'm scared that he's going to lie and I'm not going to be able to remember what happened when I get there but I know I'm going to make it through this. My sister Natalie gave me Little Earthquakes 2 weeks ago when I was down to visit her. I have listened to it before but never have her words had so much meaning. It's like everything I thought and felt she was saying and she understood. It was such a relief. Tori Amos is one of the most beautiful people on this earth and she has unfluenced me and so many people. I'm new at this rape thing so I'm not the best at giving advice...Though it sounds cliche' its not your fault. It doesn't matter what you were wearing or how you acted...you are not to blame. Keep holding on because time will heal.
Chelsea
AIM: Farmerfransgirl
MSN: chels402@hotmail.com
My story is some-what different from others. Half of that night I remember, and half I do not. It is all too confusing, but I know what happened, because I can still remember bits and pieces of it.
It was a cool summer night, and I was 5 or 6. (I am 19 now) My aunt and uncle came over, and my parents were talking to them, and so was my grandmother. (who lives/lived with us)I remember my uncle stating that he was going to go hang out with me, and we went into the living room, which is about a few steps from the kitchen. He shut the door, and then he stated we should play: "get married.." I asked him what this meant, and he told me that we will pretend we are getting married. I said: "OK," (STUPID IDEA)and we began to play. He pretended to be both my groom and the priest. We stood up, and he had a priest "voice" asking if he wanted to take me as his wife.. He said "yes," and then asked if I wanted to take him as my husband.. I hesitated, not knowing what to say. I know people said: "I do," but I was really shy at that moment.. He told me to say: "Maybe," because that means yes as well, so I did so.. He then said in his priest voice: "Congrats! Your married! You may kiss the bride!" I remember a wet kiss on the cheek, and my hand rubbing it off. My uncle then stated that it was time for our honey moon.. I didn't know what that meant-all I knew was husband and wife lay next to each other and sleep. We got on the floor, and he held me. He started to lick my ear, and I wiped it-telling him to stop.. ***This is where it all gets spaced out-as I think I go in and out of my state of mind-*** do not really know what happened after the licking-but I do know this: He was still licking my ear, he pressed himself against me, and put his hand on my mouth, telling me to be quiet-its not going to hurt. In my mind, I go back to this moment over and over again-and I see tears coming down my face, so I guess that really happened.. Why wouldn't it? I was being terrorized by my uncle-whom I trusted and loved. I remember him getting on top of me, and kissing my neck, and slowly touching my body, moving his hand up and down, and inside my pants, reaching inside of me. I started to hit him, and he pressed down on me some more... harder.. I couldn't breathe, and this is when I started to see black.. I remember him getting into the kneeling position, and unzipping his zipper.. I started to get up, but he stopped, and pushed me down with one hand, while he fumbled with trying to get his dick out. I think I passed out again, because then all I remember is waking up to severe pain inside me, and seeing him moving up and down, back and forth, and I felt pain between my legs.. I must have passed out again, because when I came too, I was on the floor, and he was kneeling over me.. He looked at me, and then told me if I told anyone, he would do it again-and harder..
I never told anyone-naturally.. I was scared.. I remember I wrote it in my diary once, and my grandmother read it.. She yelled at me for writing such lies, and told me that I better stop saying my uncle raped me, because he wouldn't do that. I never brought it up again to anyone, and mostly because he cheated on my aunt with some girl, and she was having his baby-and my aunt divorced him. I never saw him that much after this, and the only time I saw him was at a funeral, when he came over to me, and said hello-giving me this look that told me if I said or did anything to reveal he did that to me, he would do it again.. I didn't say anything. Last year he came to my house in the summer-my grandmother invited him, because she feels he is still a part of the family-disgusting.. my aunt didn't even want to see him.. Well, I mostly stayed away from him.. When I went into the pool, I caught him looking at me.. He came in, with that look again, and I saw something cold in his eyes.. it really scared me, so I got out of the pool, and away from him.. I haven't seen him after that, and I have told my mother not to invite him to my graduation party this year.. She keeps telling me that grandma wants to invite him, and I have no choice.. I really do not want him here, because I do not want to face him again.. I used to feel so dirty and ashamed-and the reason I didn't tell no one was because I was 5 or 6 when this happened, and they wouldn't believe me anyway. Now I know it is not my fault, and that he did this to me.. I am the victim-he's the criminal.. I do have a plan though.. I am going to expose him.. When he comes to my graduation party, I am going to ask him to come into my room privatly-to talk about something. I will have a hidden camera all set up-and I will bring up what happened, and get him to reveal it on camera.. If he denies it, I am going to tear off my blouse, and let him look at me, and see if he gives into the desire of my revenge. I know I can do this, because I want to show everyone what a pig he is. I am going to play this tape at my party-and watch him get friend. I can care less about what they think about me.. Just as long as they see he is the monster. I will not let him get away with this-and have him make me feel so uncomfortable--especially in my own home.. I will destroy him-as he destroyed me.. I am not how I used to be.. i used to be so happy-now I am depressed, sad, and just angry inside for revenge. I will get it.. I won't let him pressure me into something ever again-I won't hide my soul from him, or anyone.
If you want to contact me about anything, please do at: kaiastability@aol.com
Jennifer
AIM: Kaiastability
Well, I discovered your website after doing some research for my girlfriend. She is a survivor and her story brought back a story of my own. I noticed that there aren't any male stories on here (or im just not a very thorough reader) and thought I would take this time to share my story.
When I was a kid we used to play up at a train station near my house. Dont ask me why, I guess we thought trains were cool. Whatever. One time my parents where having a fight and I got scared. I put on my shoes and ran away to the train station. I was around 10 at the time. I was sitting on the bench and there was a tall skinny black man sitting next to me waiting for a train. He started talking to me and I told him that I ran away cuz my parents were fighting. He said he was sorry. He pointed to my shorts and told me that I had nick-nacks on them. I asked him what they were and he pointed out little tiny balls of lint that were on them. He reached over to pull one off and his hand brushed my genital area. My blood ran colder than ice. Why did he touch me there? I thought to myself. Then he asked me if I wann play "spin the bottle." I asked him what that was and he told me that you take a bottle and spin it and whoever it points to, you have to moon that person. I knew what he meant by mooning. But at that age, mooning just seemed like a funny thing to do. We (my friends and I) used to moon cars driving by our houses. Silly childish stuff. So I figured there wasnt any harm in that. So he got up and took an empty beer bottle out of the brush and sat back down and put it on the ground in front of us. He spinned it and wouldn't ya know, it pointed to me. So he said, I have to moon him. So I stood up and he said I have to stand there for 5 seconds. SO I did and he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. I remember the feeling of helplessness I felt. I learned about never talking to strangers and all that and I kinda knew why but now that was happening to me. Am I gonna die? I thought. Is he gonna kill me? Millions of these thoughts ran through my head in about 3 seconds. He started playing with my genitals. I was scared to death. I tried to fight him but that just made him grab me harder. I remember him sort of quietly grunting into my ear and that made me think he was a monster. Technically, he was (is). He forced his finger into my butt and when he did that he sorta loosened his grip. I jumped up as fast as I could and pulled my shorts up and ran like the wind. He never got up to chase me, which kinda surprised me. I came home and everything with my parents was fine. But I couldnt tell them. It was embarassing. I cant remember what I thought afterwards. I think I just kinda blocked it out. Ive never told this story to anyone. ive kept it to myself for 14 years. I suppose this will be the only place I tell my story to. Its not the kinda thinkg you just bring up a lot. But thanks for reading this. Thank you all for posting your stories. Its just a shame that you all have stories to post.
Jeff
I've been waiting so long to tell someone why I cant be happy.I can never get those horable images out of my head. you see my own brother molested me through out my entire childhood.he started when I was still in the crib.I remember when I was four him sitting me on top of him and forcing me down on him.I thought I was going to die.he told me if I said anything he would kill me and put me in a snow drift and I wouldn't be found till spring and by then there would not be enough left to recognize me.when I was six I told him I was going to tell mom and he hung me over the stairs. when mom got home he said I fell from the tree and a limb caught me by the neck and she believed him. when I was fourteen he got me pregnant.my mom and uncle paid for an abortion and told me if I didnt go through with it they would disown me and I would have no one, who would want a fourteen year old who got herself knocked up.so now I have to live with the fact that I killed my own child.it doesnt matter where it came from I felt it grow and I loved it. when I was sixteen I ran to my fathers home. and withall my bagage my stepmother hated me so I've bene on my own since I was seventeen. I married at nineteen and have had four great sons that have a wonderful father who does not believe in hitting a woman.drinking, or abuse in any way.He does not know the full extent of what happend to me as a child and I can't tell him now. thanks for letting me tell my story. I hope it helps someone
Jeanae
I don't know where to begin this. I guess the only place to start is the beginning. After spending my first year away at college and watching my grades suffer, I decided to go to school at home. I began a new job at a restaurant where my friends worked. they all told me how great the job was. I was hired on the spot as a hostess. The manager was real nice and made the job seem like a dream. I thought that working near my home and with my friends and boyfriend was the ideal job. and at first it was. everyone was really nice and accepted me right away. i guess it started about a week after i began working. the same manager who hired me began make little comments to me. about the way i looked, he constantly told me how pretty i was. he would tell me that i should wear more skirts to work or tighter pants. he actually reprimanded me for wearing baggy pants. then one night, a few days later he came up from behind me and grabbed me. i turned around and yelled at him! i told him that i didn't appreciate that and i would not tolerate behavior like that. he laughed and walked away. incidents like that happened for a week and each day they got worse and worse. he began rubbing his hands along my legs, across my chest and grabbing my neck. not knowing how to respond, i would freeze and wait for him to stop. in the meantime i was receiving more and more shifts at work that would require me to be the opening or closing hostess when no other hostess would be on. on one of my opening shifts in the middle of August, i was to be a busgirl that day. i arrived about a half an hour before the store was to open for the day. thinking that i didn't know the duties of an opener, this manager decided to show me. he took me into the bathroom to 'show me what to clean'. this was when he raped me. i remember thinking that if i screamed really loud someone might hear me and come 'rescue me'. but i didn't scream...i tired to fight back but he pinned my arms down...it didn't last long but it felt like hours before he got off me, finished explaining what my duties were and walked out. events like this happened for a while. i never knew there were so many hiding places inside of a restaurant. he would back me into a room and started touching me and i would threaten to yell or tell someone. but he told me that no one would believe me, he had worked with these people for so long...i had been there a month and a half. these incidents began affecting me with my job. i had no patience, yelled at everyone and the hardest part was hiding it from my boyfriend of a year. i hated lying to him about the bruises that he would see but i felt trapped. this manager always took advantage of situations that would arise. if no one else was around, or if i was in the back of the store cleaning hi-chairs he would approach me, put his hands between my legs and tell me that he knew i liked it. LIKED IT???? i couldn't understand what was happening. it was like it wasn't me...that i was watching this all happen. i wanted to tell someone so badly. there were so many nights that i would dial my friends number (the one who i later told) and hang up at the 6th digit. part of me knew it was wrong but i was so afraid of what else could happen. one night though, October 10th...i finally had enough it was early in the night. i was one of two hostesses, my boyfriend was the other. it was empty at work, very few customers were coming in so i went to this manager to ask him if i could go home, i had a lot of homework to do. he said yes, first i had to help him with some products. i reluctantly agreed. he brought me into a room where products are stored and i began transferring them. he came into the room and made some nasty comments to me about the way i was hold a bottle of Tabasco sauce. the next thing that i remember was the door getting closed and him blocking it. he pushed me up against the door and began trying to kiss me. i tried to push him, kick him and hit him, nothing worked. he began ripping my shirt and pulling at my pants. i felt his hands everywhere on me and i freaked out. i yelled at him and gathered up all the strength that i could muster and pushed him off of me. i ran out the door, thru the restaurant, past my concerned boyfriend and out the door. i ran to my friends house who also worked there. i went into her house in hysterics. i managed to tell her that our manager had trapped me into the storeroom and that he started kissing me. with that we attempted to call other managers..(partly against my will) to let them know what had happened. we met with another manager and i told him parts of different incidents like when he would come up behind me and try to kiss my neck, nothing to the extent that it was. they...(the other mangers) felt that what he did was wrong and after two days of speaking with different people it was decided that he was not allowed to work for the company anymore.
my first day back at work after that was hard...i wound up freaking out, crying uncontrollably, thinking that i couldn't handle it all. what was worse was that i knew i had to talk to someone....i had been through something like this before and it took me nearly 5 years to get a hold on...but again?? how could this happen to me again? i must have asked for it..... "how will you know that i am hurting--if you can't see my pain--to wear it on my body--tells what words can not explain" this became my motto again. after months of being good, i resorted to cutting myself to ease the pain of what i felt inside. as a result i now carry a scar about two and a half inches long on my arm.
but here i am now, it about four months later. i still work at the same restaurant. some days are horrible. some are bad. i like the bad days. those are the days that i can fake the smile and let everyone believe that i am happy. i will just keep smiling.
well my story begins when i was about 4 years old. my father was physically abusing me and my mother, then he decided to take it to another level. he began sexually abusing me. when i was about 6 my mother divorced him and we moved to the other side of the country. she began physically and emotionally abusing me then, picking up where my father left off. she would keep me home from school so i could cook and clean, i was only in the 3rd grade. i was a very promiscuous child, i voluntarily gave up my virginity when i was 8 yrs. old. at that time my mother began seeing a man from her job. he, thomas was so sweet, he understood what i wanted in life. after 5 years of dating they married. the whole time my mother had been physically abusing me, but thought it was normal, it was what i deserved. she had also become sexually abusive, she would take things and stick them inside of me, as punishment for having a c in a class. it was a highly stressful and depressing state to be stuck in. i was stuck there for almost 3 years. then finally one day after my stepfather choked me until i turned blue, with my mother cheering him on and kicking me in the back. then changed places. i could have sworn i was going to die. i decided i was tired of being in hell, so i took my walett and a picture of my best friend and ran away. i went to a youth shelter, dhs was called but they did nothing. while i awas at the shelter one of the workers began molesting me. he started telling me how uch i meant o him. while i was there my mother worked on placing in a children's home. i was placed there when i was 14, i stayed from sept. 13, 2000- oct. 14, 2000. they found out i had been self-mutilating so i was discharged. i cried because i ahd to go back to hell. my mother yelled and screamed at me the whole way. i was so scared that she was going to hurt me. i lasted at home for 3 weeks. out of frustration, depression, and pain i went to counseling and overdosed on tylenol during a break. by the time my stepfather showed up my couselour told him i was on the brink of death, he said nothing to me, he just drove me to the emergency room, one block away. i stayed in the picu unit for 3 days, and then was in a room for another 4 days. i was discharged straight to a psychiatric facility, i stayed there for 10 days. i spent my 15th birthday there. i had no support. i was discharged to the same shelter, because my mother didn't want me. i felt alone and psycho. while there the same man victimized me again and again. finally i told the shelter director, who ended up becoming my foster dad.
i am now working through going ptsd and many other issues. including those dealing with sexuality and love. but i know somehow i will make it. and i promise you will too. please feel free to write me, even just to talk about your cat. i don't care. someone is here for me and i want to be here for somebody.
