Reading through all your stories, I find myself confused. I start to read and I wonder if maybe I have written these, and forgetten them like I've forgotten so many other things. And then I run across a name, a number, which keeps it from being me. My story isn't a new one, none of ours are--they are universal, and they are happening every day, with different names and numbers, but always the same plot. But I need to share my names, and my numbers. I need for them to stare at me in cold black print because I can't hide from them any more.

I turned sixteen last month. I cried when someone said something about sweet sixteen and never been kissed.

I barely knew myself but when I listened to Ani DiFranco sing, "I was eleven years old, he was as old as my dad, and he took something from me I didn't even know that I had," I thought to myself rationally, calmly, "Oh. Two years older than me."

Because I was nine. I was waiting for my camp counselor to leave the all-night gas station and join me in awaiting the return of the camp van. She was buying alcohol I know that. But she told me not to bother her, and so I didn't. And when a van pulled up, and I thought it was the camp van, and it wasn't, I didn't scream. And I should have. I didn't scream. I didn't know those men but they looked so tall and I was only nine years old. And I knew this was why mum never let me ride the tube alone. Because on the tube, green-eyed strangers and their friends could grab me and gag me with a dirty teeshirt. And I started counting by sevens as they forced my body apart with organs that might as well have been knives. I still count by sevens when I'm upset. I thought my ribs were going to break and the rest of me was already broken, but I could see the light of the moon shining crookedly through the windows of the van and it made me so sad to know that God didn't care whether I got raped or not. And when they were done with me they dumped me onto the gravelly back alley and left me there. I looked up at the moon, counted by sevens and I could smell that it was going to rain soon.

I didn't say anything until the following afternoon when the camp nurse checked me into the emergency room. I'd tried to swallow drain cleaner.

I still don't like America I'd just moved here from England when that happened. I still don't like vans, or all night gas stations. I cried when I went to my counselor's funeral. She drank herself into oblivion and took half a bottle of sleeping pills when I was a freshman.

I still don't know myself but I'm trying. I still wonder if the girl in the mirror is really me, or just someone that they made. I still wonder if they won.

Myfanwy



I was an 18 year old freshman at a very small college. I grew up in a family that believed you shouldn't have sex until marriage, so I was a virgin. I knew almost everyone and felt very safe on campus. I was walking from the main campus past a wooded area to the gym for cheerleading practice. Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me into the woods. He dropped his gun and put a knife to my throat. He told me that if I made any noise he would kill me. He pushed my skirt up and cut my underwear open. I lay there with tears streaming down my face while he pulled down his sweatpants and raped me. I felt like my insides were being ripped out. He was smiling the whole time. I couldn't bear to look at him. When he finished he thanked me like I had done him a favor and then knocked me out with his gun.

When I woke up I didn't know how long I had been there. I stumbled back to my dorm and into the bathroom. I felt so dirty. I took the hottest, longest shower I could. I scrubbed every part of me until my skin was raw. I locked myself in my room and cried all night long. The next day I told my friend what had happend and he called the dean of women. She didn't believe me. She tried to convince me that I had imagined it while I was unconsious. She told me that I shouldn't tell anyone what had happend. That it would just make things harder. I was so emotionally messed up that I believed her. I convinced myself that it had not happend and went on with my life.

I transfered colleges and tried to forget about my attack. Two years later, the memories got to be too much to handle and I cracked. I had a nervous breakdown at school and ended up in counseling. The counseling helped me come to terms with my attack and also with what my college had done to me.

It has now been 9 years since my rape. I am in a relationship with a wonderful man who is very understanding. He never pressures me into anything and is always there to listen when I need to vent. I am far from being over it, but I am working through my fears with his help. I know that I am a survivor.

Dawn



my story begans sometime ago when i was just four years old. the year was 1982 and it began for as much as my family thought a normal relationship of a newly blened family , my uncle had just married his mother and everyone thought that treatimg me the same way he would with ahis own little sister but after awhile things become sexual. At four years old a ch ild dosent even know what sex is much less how to have sex. but that didn't matter becouse for somewhere between six and eight months the abuse contuied. My mother caught it one day and brought an to that but, it didn't ther . It was just the beganing . After talking to the Police ,DSS, and the thearpist we find out that thier can be no prosuction in the case becouse one i was to young to tetstfey and that in my state at that the rapist had to live in the household with the child in order for him to even be charged and even though I don't remeber most of what he did to me i do once in a while remeber little things. My story onl begans here becouse where he left off three of my frist cousins picked up this abuse went own for so many years that i can't even remember the number of times that i was forced into haveing sex. All during this time I was haveing problems alot of which i still have to this day, an exterme fear of the dark, an adversing to being touched . An eating disorder and by god don't come walk up behind me without calling my name. I guess some are a defense I have bulit up . I guess alot of these things are also in my mind to keep the hurt away. This didn't work becouse I was raped again just last year last April to be exact. It seemed like dream but, somehow i know it wasn't i had been drinking with a couple of friends that night as almost all college kids do and i know i hadn't had that much to drink three beers and i returned to my dorm room about 3Am which was quiet early for me. I leave the room to shower and come back to find my room keys missing from my pants pocket thinking maybe i had dropped them somewhere in the room i thought nothing 0f it and went to bed. I was i thought at the time dreaming but, it wasn't a dream i dreamed i was injucted with something from a hyperdermipic neddle and was raped in the dream state but. it was a dream i only wish it were. i remeber everything that happened to this day. . I got up the next mororing sick as dog and loked at my armed yo find the fresh neddle marks



I've been reading the stories on the sites and it makes me feel so much better to know people out there know what I'm going through and know what it's like to live with this feeling.I'm 17 years old and my abuse started when I was 10 and ended when I was 12 when my parents got divorced. My first encounter was when I was 8 years old my uncle called and told me to put my hand down my pants and said if I didn't that he would. He never did, but then when i was 10 years old my brother started liveing with me and my parents and he started doing things. My brother never raped me but he did force himself on me and he did force me to do things to him. He also did things to my bestfriend and made us do things to each other. I never tried to stop him I was only 10 and he was 13 and there was no way I could do anything. I felt like I was a puppet. I just recently told my parents and my mom had no doubt that I was telling the truth but my dad was another story. He didn't believe and then got mad at me when he found out that I thought he wouldn't belive me. He also told me that I need to put it behind me but it's not that easy. He's not the one that has to live with it and he's not the one that has nightmares. I know it's not my fault but he does a good job of making me feel like it is. My mom is going to start taking me to a counsler and also I haven't talked to my brother since I told and I dont know if I should. He is a very big person and also a very easily angered person. I'm so scared. I know I have to be strong but it's so hard sometimes. I'm glad I found this site it helps me to be strong. Thank you for creating it means the world to me and many other survivors I'm sure.

Jessica
AIM: GlitterBugg



I'm 35 years old am I'm afraid of the 11 year old girl in the next room.

I was a victim of sexual abuse by my stepfather from about age 7 to 19. He had intercourse with me almost daily. I had people in my life who could have helped me but I was a prisoner, I was brainwashed, I was a hostage. In my mind, there would never be an escape. My mother was also a hostage of his, so I no longer blame her for not saving me. We were both fucked up. I managed to get through those years by living a day life and a night life, as I have seen others post. Two girls lived inside me, protected me. Thank God for them, because I got through life somewhat in tact. I function and am mostly happy. I have trouble with communication and self expression, I blame that on years of being kept silent. One night I got drunk, pulled out all my CDs, and took a marker and blackened the mouths out of all the artists whose pictures appeared on their CD covers. Freaky, yes. Revealing, sure. That was my life, keep your mouth shut and act 'normal'. Now I have a sweet bless! ing from God, my husband of 9 months. He wants me to express myself to him and that has been so challenging. He knows about my life, the abuse, the 2 abortions, the fear that made me immobile. Communication is our problem though. Because I don't talk. I've grown so much over the years, grown away from my childhood pain, tried to identify behavior caused by my past, and I know this, too, will improve with work... this silence.

Today, however, I feel myself faced with another dilemna. With my new marriage, I got an 11 year old stepdaughter. She lives primarily with her mom, but we have generous visitaion and involvement in her life. My husband and her mom are great parents. I feel convicted however, to tell her about "me" and to let her know this HAPPENS, this is real. Reading some of the stories on your site was quite a wake up call... this happens ALOT. To alot of people, at alot of different ages. I want to get up from this computer and go talk to her and let her know I can be told if she ever needs to tell something. I feel like if I put a face on abuse ( mine ), she'll see what a valid thing it is. Not just something that happens to other people. I'm glued to my seat. Being silent about it forever, and now needing to speak to my kid has me torn in half. She needs this, I need this, and my voice is gone.

Toni



I'm not going to go into the details of my abuse, because I only can remember 3 very specific incidents, tho I am almost certain there were many more. I was sexually abused by my dad until I was about 11. I've never admitted that to anyone before. I am 20 now. I still live with my parents and I see my dad daily and we have the semblance of a normal relationship except everyone in the house knows it is not. He has never touched me since everything came out in the open and for that I am grateful. But even that bit of time has obviously taken its toll on my mind and emotions. I am now very afraid of intimacy, relationships and sex. All I seemed to have learned from this is that sex is bad, yet I know it is not. I know it is perfectly possible to have a normal, loving, intimate relationship yet I can not make that happen for myself now. I love my dad and I want to forgive him, but at the same time I can not. Are there others with this issue? How have you gotten over it or at least conquered the hate that wants to take over sometimes? I really need to look into therapy...

MA



Hi my name is brandy. I am 22 years old and I am a survivor. I met "ethan" through a mutual friend when I just turned 20. We had only been dating a few weeks when we had our first sexual encounter. I remember we were at his house and things started getting hot and heavy. We ended up on the floor and started making out. I thought I wanted it but I had only had sex one time, it wasn't a fairy tale either, and I thought since we were boyfriend and girlfriend we were supposed to do this. Now I feel so stupid when I look back on it. I remember how rough he was being and then he just shoved himself inside of me and I became numb and I just stared at the ceiling and couldn't escape the pain inside. He kept digging in harder and harder and finally he pulled out, I thought he had came, but he took his condom off and started again and finally, thank god, someone or something stirred up in the house and he got up to see what it was and I just laid there dumbfounded and I slipped my panties and sundress back on and said I had to go. He just looked at me disappointed and said can't you stay the night, he said his mom wouldn't care and I quickly declined and tried to leave before he could follow and he followed me outside to my car and said he wanted to finish this later and I said sure, I didn't realize that just because I thought that since I was his girlfriend I was supposed to have sex even if I didn't want to. I wish I had been in a better state of mind and wish I had more self esttem at the time to realize what was going on. He was playing mind games with me making me feel like I was the enforcer wanting sex and he was just complying with my needs. I remember coming home and feeling so used and dirty. I went in the bathroom and washed my face and threw my panties and sundress away. I remember the blood on my legs and on the toilet seat when I got home. I remember the darkest circles around my eyes and the most terrible feeling of lonliness creeping around me. He called me the next day and said his mom found blood on the sheets he had pulled on the floor and he laughed and said he told her it was a nosebleed. I remember I hated being around him after that but I was so lonely that I felt like I was supposed to stay with him, stupid huh? Anyways we stayed together 2 or 3 months I don't really remember too well, but it was horrible. He always made me feel like I was worthless and stupid. When I went to the doctor to be put on birth control he asked me if I was planning on being promiscuous and I just looked at him stunned not knowing what to say. We had sex 2 or 3 more times but I don't remember ever wanting to just feeling like I had to and how much it hurt when he was inside, it was so painful and so void at the same time. I hated myself because I felt like I brought it on myself. Everytime we had sex I bled and felt so dirty and used. I know some people will say it's normal for girls to bleed the first couple of times after sex but this wasn't just spotting it was profuse. I know That I was assaulted because I told him everytime before we had sex that I didn't want to and he would somehow turn it around to where he made me feel guilty and bad and he ended up on top of me.

I am now 22 and moving on with my life. I have taken that part of my life as a learning lesson to trust myself and to never let anyone make me feel stupid or bad. I am planning to get married this year and my boyfriend jeremy is so supportive of me. He deals with the fact that someone has taken advantage of me and that I have nightmares, hate certain months (march in particular, when the assault happend), hate being in the dark by myself (I can still feel ethan's breath and cold blue eyes staring down on me as he pushes himself inside), and have moodswings because of this. I have just recently told my best friend about what happened, I told her the same day I told jeremy, she feels so bad that she didn't know but now hates the thought of ethan ever being allowed to be near me and prays everyday for the pain he has inflicted to come back in ten fold.

I am sure there are lots of other girls who have experienced the same thing that I have and even worse, I just know that sharing it will hopefully help someone along the way to know it was not your fault and that your not bad or stupid and there is no reason for you to ever feel guilty for not doing something.

Brandy



I am 20 year's old. 3 weeks ago I was attacked. Not by a stranger as most people think of when they are attacked, but by the guy I had lived with, and shared my life with for almost 2 years. It wasn't the first time that he hurt me, but it was the worst night of my life. At first the night was going great. We went shopping and out to dinner. When we got home, we played some card game's for a couple of hour's. We got into an argument at some point, and he was calling me a slut, and a whore,and told me that the only thing I know is how to live off of guys. I put my shoe's on, and attempted to leave. I was only planning on taking a walk until he calmed down. Well instead he grabbed me by my hair, and drug me from the kitchen into the living room. In the living room he was behind me and he had me by my throat. I started to get dizzy, and thing's were getting blurry. He was yelling at me to get my pant's off. At that point my feet weren't even touching the ground he had me up so high by my throat. I was pulling my pant's down as fast as I could, but he kept yelling at me to get them down even after they were. I finally gasped and got out the word's that they were. He let me go. He then led me into the bedroom, and told me he was tired of me not listening to him. He made me get down on my knee's in front of the bed, and he tied my hand's behind my back with a piece of rope that he had. I begged him to stop, but he said shut up bitch, this has been coming to you for a long time. I finally got him to untie me. He then gagged me with a bandana, and told me that if I fought him that he would tie my hand's behind my back again. He bent me over and began whaling on my behind. I jumped up in pain.I was yelling no. He got up and grabbed his belt and told me that if I didn't do it that I was going to get it worse. I tried to fight back and he began hitting me really hard with the belt.I told him at that point just to kill me. He hit me even harder with the belt. I then did what he said. He rapped me repeatedly through out the early morning hour's. He made me do thing's that I would have never done. I did tell him no a couple of time's but he just told me to relax. I trew up once because it literally made me sick. He told me not to worry that it was just my nerve's. When he was done I had to act as though nothing bothered me. I knew that if I did this he may let me go. I spent all most all day with him that day. The hardest part for me was when he told me that he loved me, and I had to say it back to him. It really hurt to have to say something like that to someone I hated so much at that point. He made me feel like I have never felt toward's anyone before. Finally he let me go. He thought that I was going out to do him a favor, but instead I went to the nearest hospital. That was one of the hardest thing's I had to do. I had to drive myself 45 minute's away, and the whole time I thouhgt he was behind me following me to make sure I was going to where I said I was. When I was driving there a commercial about domestic violence came on the radio. It said something to the effect's of if you are being abused, remember nobody deserves it. I cried so hard that I almost had to pull over because I could not see the road very well. When I got to the hospital I just sat outside of the E.R. for about 20 minute's crying my eye's out. Telling myself that if I didn't do this he was going to kill me. I almost had to convince myself that I was not the one in the wrong here. Finally when I saw a police car drive by, I got out of the car and ran into the E.R. I almost couldn't tell the nurse what had happend to me. The cop's were called, and they took my report. The next day they arrested him. Right now I don't know what is going on. I have heard from some people that he was released. I have an appointment with the D.A. in a couple of day's. I don't know how they could release someone like that. I also found out that this isn't the first time he has done something like this. That scare's me even more than anything does. The fact that the man was released the first time to do it again to me. Now he could be out again. He could try to harm someone else, or he could try to find me, and kill me. He told me that if I ever had him arrested he would kill me. I really hope that he is not out. Currently I am suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I do not sleep at night. Mainly because it is the time of day that he did this to me. If I do fall asleep it's because I literally pass out from being so tired. That doesn't last long though because I have awful nightmare's. I stay up all night. Every noise I hear I think it might be him at the door. I jump up. I even sleep with a knife under the cushion of the couch just in case. I don't go anywhere by myself. I tried to go outside just to check the mail, and I basically had a panic attack. I couldn't breathe and I had pain's in my chest. I am no longer able to take care of my daughter because I am on a totally different schedual than her. I also feel that she is safer with her father, rather than me, because what if this nut find's me. I don't know if he would hurt her. I don't want to know. I think that the hardest part is the fact of not knowing. Not knowing where he is, and if he is thinking about way's to hurt me. It's really hard. I am just still so afraid for my life, and the life of the one's I love. I am not sure how it is going to turn out, but I hope that I can do something to prevent him from harming other's. I never knew how serious this was until it happend to me. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I don't know when or how I am going to get my life back on track, but I am already going to counciling. I just want to feel safe again. Is that too much to ask. I thought that is why people came to America. I am an American Citizen. Why can't I feel safe in my own home. The system really suck's if they could let a person who has done something like this out even just on bail, when they hold people who are arrested on misdamenor drug charge's. The people who haven't caused any direct harm to society are held in jail while a violent person who could harm anyone, even kill someone could be out of jail. Now tell me that doesn't just suck. What is this country coming to.

NANDY0204@AOL.COM




 
 
 
 
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