This is a secret I have kept for so many years. I'm still embarassed to share it, but I think it's time. I need to. I have a cousin who is a couple of years older than me. I must have been around 5 or 6 when I first met her. My aunt took me over to her grandmother's house. She didn't say much at first, but the next time I went to visit it was at her house. She had her own room with a lock on her door. We were in her room and she asked me if I had ever had sex before. I didn't really know what sex was, but I had played doctor with a boy before, so I said yes. I didn't think I was a virgin anymore, eventhough I really was. It was another year before I saw her again. This time she had a brother. She told me he was adopted. I didn't know if she was telling the truth, but I hadn't seen him before and I never saw him again, so she may have been. I also wondered if she was adopted. She wasn't at any of the family reunions before then and I don't have any pictures of her from before that year. I think I was 6 this time, and when I got to her house, we were sitting in the room watching TV with her brother. He started making fun of me in a way that let me know she had told him what we had talked about last time. She told him to shut up and took me to her room and locked the door. Then she told me she wanted to have sex with her boyfriend, but she didn't know how, so she wanted me to show her. I told her what I thought I knew about it, but she wanted me to demonstrate on her. So I tried to act like I knew what I was doing, but she kind of took over. My parents had already said I could spend the night and they had left me there, so after that we went to bed. We both slept in her bed and in the morning when I woke up I could feel her trying to pull my panties off of me. I told her to stop but she wouldn't. I raised my voice and she told me to be quiet or her mother would come in and I would get in trouble for making noise. She told me that I couldn't leave until she was ready for me to because she was the only one who knew how to work the lock on her door. But she didn't bother me anymore that day. I didn't see her again until I was 7. My grandfather had just died and I thought I was going to the funeral with my parents, but my mother told me I was too young. She said they had hired a babysitter to stay with me and my cousin at my grandmother's house. I begged her to let me go with them, but she said everyody would be sad and it wasn't a place for a little girl. She assured me my cousin would be with me, and my aunt told me she was being a big girl and not complaining. I couldn't tell anybody why I didn't want to stay there with her, because I was afraid I would get in trouble if they knew what happened before. So on the day of the funeral, everybody left and it was just me and my cousin and a lady I had never met before. At first my cousin was just playing with me in a normal childish way. Then she got me to go into the bathroom with her and she locked the door. She was still playing normal for a while, then she told me to take off my panties and close my eyes and she would do something to me, then she would close her eyes and I would have to do the same thing to her. I had never heard of oral sex before, but that's what she was talking about. I couldn't imagine why anybody would want to do that, so I didn't really believe she would do it. I told her I didn't want to, but she demanded that I do it, so I closed my eyes. She kept telling me they better really be closed and I promised her that they were. Then I felt something. Then she told me I had to do her and she closed her eyes. I told her I didn't want to. She got mad and said she had done me so I had to. She still had her eyes closed and she was telling me to hurry up, so I used something else and touched her with it. She got mad and said I didn't really do it. I lied and said I did, and she said "NO YOU DIDN'T!" So I told her she had used something else too, but she said she didn't use anything else, and I believed her. But then I thought the only way she could have known I didn't really do it was if she was peaking, so I told her that, but she kept saying she really had her eyes closed. Then the babysitter knocked on the door and told us to come out. We got dressed and opened the door and she looked down at both of us with the meanest look on her face. She told us both to stay out of there and she never spoke to us again that day. My cousin was mad at me because she said if I had just done what she said we wouldn't have gotten caught. I was glad that lady came to the door though. I don't know if the babysitter told anyone. No one said anything to me about it. Maybe she told and no one believed her, but no one has acted any differently toward me or my cousin. My aunt took me over there a year or two later, but I was NOT going to be anywhere alone with her. My aunt asked me if I wanted to spend the night there, because my father had just called over and said there was a problem with the pipes at my grandmother's house where we were staying, but I didn't care. My cousin teased me saying I wasn't going to be able to use the toilet or take a bath, but I didn't care. I was NOT staying there. I didn't see her again until about 15 years later when we graduated from the same college. She took a few years off and started up again later, so we ended up graduating on the same day. Our relatives had a celebration dinner for us afterwards and a cake with both of our names on it. I didn't eat the cake and I tried to stay as far away from her as I could without raising any suspicion, but soon, someone wanted to take a picture with both of us. I put on a grin and made sure someone stood between us. I don't even know if she remembers. She seems to be living a normal life. She got married a few years after graduation. Meanwhile I have never been able to keep a boyfriend for more than 4 months (that's a long-term relationship for me, and I've only had 2 of those). It took me years to make the connection and understand why I can't stand the idea of oral sex, yet I kept meeting guys that liked to do that and would literally beg me to let them do it to me. Maybe it's because they thought that would make me want to have sex with them. I feel so abnormal when it comes to sex. When I was too young to know know anything about it, I knew too much and now that everybody around me has started doing it, it's like I'm so far behind. I'm practically asexual now. I'm attracted to men, but I'm afraid to act on it because when I finally did loose my virginity I was raped. In a way it feels like that was my punishment for being attracted to him. But I'm not attracted to women in that way either because 1) I don't think there's anything that can replace my need for a man, and 2) The thought of me being with another woman reminds me of my cousin.

Babydoll16_17@tearsinthedark.com



I have never taken the time to write my story down on paper. I am hoping that it will help to release the pressure that has been building up for six years. I apologize if I seem to ramble, but I know this is going to be very hard.

I guess that I should start by saying how I got where I was, and why it was such a big secret. I was sixteen, and had been dating Eric, who was 4 years my senior for 3 years. He was a sophomore in college, I was a sophomore in high school. This would have been all fine well and good, but my parents didn’t know that I was dating him. It was April 1995, and I told my parents that I was going to spend school vacation at my best friends house. She had recently moved out of state, so it was a good story. I went up to spend the week with Eric, of course.

The first night I was there we went to a fraternity party. I had been to quite a few before, and this one was no different. We went with a group of our friends. Eric was a member of the fraternity, and we both knew that these parties tended to get a little out of control. My friend Marc told me to be careful and if I needed his help to just yell. If I knew how desperately I would need his help, I would have started yelling then.

The party went smoothly enough, but I got tired early. I went upstairs to Eric’s room to go to bed. I told him I was going up and he promised he would follow me right up. I went up and got into bed. I had been lying there for a few minutes, and had started to drift off to sleep. I felt someone kiss my neck, and I thought that it was him. I moaned and rolled over, too tired to make love to him. Then I felt hands all over me, one on each wrist, pulling my hands above my head, and two pulling off my clothes. I opened my eyes and saw five guys standing over me. I tried to scream, but another hand quickly covered my mouth. The one who was on top of me told me not to scream and it wouldn’t hurt. The voices around me kept saying to relax and enjoy myself. I tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. I felt like my insides were going to burst. I don’t have words to describe the pain I felt. After the third guy was done with me, I knew that if I didn’t find a way out of it, I probably wouldn’t survive. I heard the music stop, as if on cue. The CD had run out in the stereo, now was my chance. I bit the hand over my mouth and yelled "Eric, Eric, ERIC" as loud as I could. The hand that I bit backhanded me, but my effort was worth it. Marc had heard me and came running. When Eric saw him run up the stairs, he quickly followed. I don’t remember much that happened after that. Somehow I ended up at Marc’s apartment sleeping in his arms.

Of course if my night hadn’t been bad enough, Eric’s ego was hurt. He had a raging temper, and was convinced that I had planned something with one or more of those guys and it went bad. To prove to me that I should be with him, he raped me two nights later. I don’t know what was worse, being terrorized by five complete strangers, or raped by the person you think is the love of your life.

I have moved on, I have a loving boyfriend and a beautiful son. The memories of that night are still as vivid as ever. Sometimes I have flashbacks while making love to my boyfriend. I can’t tell him what happens and what I see during my flashbacks, I’m afraid of his reaction. He knows I was raped, but thinks I should have gotten over it by now. I’m trying, but I just can’t feel better.

Thank you for listening. Feel free to email me if you need someone to listen.

Melanie
AIM: bunnyfly69



His hands grabbed at her waist pulling her back towards him. "No, let me go!" she protested lunging towards the front seat. He kept pulling her into the back seat of the van. As he did, his hard cock rammed into her. She thought, should I pretend to like it so he’ll just get it over with. "No, stop, let me go!" and she began to cry again. Struggling to try and get into the front seat and to the car door seemed an impossible feat. "You know you like it," he told her. She felt like throwing up just at the thought of him saying that. Once again, she lunged for the door and he lunged for her. "Stop, let me go, I don’t want to do this," she pleaded with him. He just laughed and said "You love it." Finally, she could feel his cum in her and in some ways she was thankful. She climbed out of the back seat into the front seat. Her hands fumbled for the door handle. The door swung open and she was free. Outside her jeans still half on and half off, her blouse partly open she struggled to put her car key in the lock. Just as the key entered the lock, he grabbed her arm. She froze in place not sure what to do. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hurry and get in her car and yet she froze like a deer in headlights. He looked at her, but she didn’t look at him and he said "You know, this wasn’t rape." He let go of her arm and walked towards his van. She quickly opened her car door got in and locked the door. As she pulled her pants up and tried to fix her blouse, she noticed a shoe missing. The darkness enveloped her as she waited for him to leave. Afraid that he might follow her home and know just where she lived she waited in the darkness. His van finally left and she turned the ignition on her car. It would be the next day before she would realize her drivers license had fallen out in his car. I had to write that last paragraph as if it happened to another person because it is so excruciatingly painful to remember. I can even remember his first name, Coy. What a stupid name for someone who rapes someone. This is a chapter in my life that up until now, I have never really come to terms with for many reasons. I have felt ashamed that it happened to me and I always considered myself an intelligent woman. For years, my mother taught me and I taught my daughter what to do and what not to do. Yet, there I was doing things wrong. I had accepted a date with a man, a first date. It was a meeting over the internet, but yet that should not matter really because a liar is a liar is a liar and they will lie no matter where they are at. Of course, I knew you don’t meet them privately or invite them to your own home. So, when he asked and I accepted we decided to meet at a very nice restaurant in Seattle. I drove to the restaurant and met him inside in the lobby. Things went quite well, we both seemed to think the other wasn’t half bad looking. I was impressed that he actually could carry on a conversation. The evening found us laughing and talking and enjoying each others company. By the end of dinner, I had a total of 2 drinks. I was by no means drunk. So, why would I be so stupid as to allow someone to drive me to my car? The parking lot was rather large and when I arrived I ended up parking quite a ways from the restaurant. Why would I trust someone that I had just met? If I could answer those questions fo! r you, the story I just told you probably never would have happened. One of the things I do regret is the fact that I never told anyone. Once he drove out of the parking lot, I simply blocked it out. The day I opened an envelope with my drivers license in it, I remember cringing. But, nothing, I felt nothing but fear that day. After that, I just tried to quit thinking about it. I can’t even tell you if I came home and scrubbed myself like so many others say that they do. After I left that night, it is pretty much a blank. It wasn’t until almost two months later when I was jarred by something said in a conversation with a friend that I began to remember that horrible night. I have felt great remorse for choosing to protect myself and not others who he might hurt in the same way. I’ve always been a protector to my family and friends. I’ve always tried to put them first and it just baffles me that in this particular instance I said nothing to protect others. I said nothing. The nights that I allow myself to think about that night I find myself pra! ying that others weren’t hurt in the way that I was hurt. I don’t consider myself a rape survivor. Perhaps because I feel a survivor is one that gets over something and moves on. I find it very difficult to move on. When I try, pieces of that night come back to haunt me and all I want to do is block it out. I even remember the time I found myself in that very same parking lot when a company I worked for had a Christmas party at the same restaurant. I don’t know, maybe by writing this, I have taken the first step. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to write the first paragraph without insinuating it happened to someone else.

Angee



I'm 39. I'm married to a wonderful man for almost 18 years now. Plus we lived together for two years before that. Together almost 20 years. He doesn't know. And I can't tell him. He wouldn't blame me, I know. He would want to find and kill the man. I know this. And he would want to help me. But what we have is pretty good. And I would never want this filth to be a part of who we are.

Alright... I was 16, a junior in high school, dating a really great guy, Larry. He was my first. And I really loved him. He worked at the florist shop, delivering flowers. And he brought me flowers all the time. I really didn't care if they were old and about to be thrown out.

Everyday (weather permitting) after school, I would ride my bike. 20 miles sometimes. Not really an athletic pursuit, just a reason to get out of the house. Work off the problems/frustrations that a teenager has. Time to be alone and think. On a Thursday, first week in October, I'm riding. On my way home now. About 4-5 miles from my house, there's a man up ahead waving for me to stop. Well I stop. He wants to know if I have a light for his cigarette. So happens I do. That's the other reason for getting out of the house. Teenage smoking. Well, aside from the obvious medical reasons, here's one more reason not to start. Strange men may ask for a light.

He's just making conversation. What's my name. I tell him. His name is Tony. Who knows if that's a real name. "You must live close by, I see you riding all the time". Now there's something that didn't sink in for a year or so. He had planned it. He knew I'd be there. Up until then, I thought I'd been struck by random lightning. Wrong place, wrong time. But it was a trap, and I stepped right in.

He asked how old I was, what grade I was in, did I have a boyfriend. Nothing too alarming to start. He was about 25-30 years old, 6'. And I was 16 and STUPID! The conversation turned personal. What was my boyfriend like, etc. Still nothing so weird that made me afraid, but I was becoming uncomfortable. On to the next level... What kind of things did my boyfriend do to me. Did I like it when he fucked me. Okay. Now I really had to get out of there. Polite little girl that I was though, I just made excuses.. 'Have to go now. My mother is going to kill me for being late'. That sent him off. "Do you think you're too good for me bitch?"

He grabbed me by my hair, pulled me and the bike down the bank. Pulled me about 50 feet into the woods. Screaming didn't really occur to me. There wasn't anything nearby anyway. I'm sure I yelped as he was dragging me by my hair. I did the "please, please, don't hurt me" thing. I did push, and slap and swing. Basically, I just fought like a girl. This rather amused him. Then he punched me in the stomach so hard, I think my feet lifted off the ground. Well I crumpled, unable to breathe. He's taking my shorts off, which probably wasn't all that easy, because I was in a ball, just trying to breathe. Next he was on top of me. I'm just barely getting short breaths by this time. He grabbed me by the neck, slammed by head down, and said "how bad you wanna be messed up when I'm done". In my ear, he whispered "if you're really good, I might let you live". Well the fight was over. He won. He just wouldn't stop talking. I wanted to yell "SHUT UP!!!!" Each time he rammed me, he'd say something crude. Ram! "You like that?" Ram! "Tell me how much you like it". I was crying. And the thoughts that were going through my head. Geez. I remember wondering how long before someone found my body? Who would that be? I remember thinking of my parents. How they would be crying and saying something like "how could she have let this happen?" At one point, he told me to wrap my legs around him. I thought "oh goody, yeah, let me just help you with this!&#@&$#%#$". But I did it. Of course, that just gave him a better angle of assault. I wanted to die.

When he finished, he spit on me. I think he missed. I just laid there... on my back. hands above my head. legs spread wide. I guess I was waiting for further instructions. But all he said was "not bad, but I've had better". As a small parting gift, he kicked me in the ribs. No where near as hard as he could have I'm sure, just enough to hurt. He called me a "stupid, white bitch" and left.

I don't know how long I laid there. A couple seconds or a minute or two. But then I was so afraid he was just hiding behind a tree or something and he would come back. So panic kicked in, and I found my shorts and put them on. Couldn't find my underwear or one shoe. So that's how I ran. With one shoe, wet leaves and mud on me, and scratches from sticks and briers. Shaking uncontrollably. Got my bike. Had no where else to go but home. I didn't know how I could explain this.

Funny how things work, though. I'm pedalling like the devil's right behind me, make a turn, hit wet leaves (now there's a smell I can't handle), and I go sprawling across the road. Now, I am really bloody and scraped up. But I'm close to home. Finally make it. I'm a mess. My mother says "oh my god, what happened to you". Without thinking, what blurted out of my mouth was that I wiped out on my bike. (That was true). So out comes the first aid, bactine, bandaids, and in the shower I go. After only an hour, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Everything I could think to say just sounded so stupid. Like, "Hey Mom, by the way, did I forget to mention what happened..." Just couldn't do it.

I stayed home from school the next day. Then had the weekend to pull myself together. I broke up with Larry. I was so sure he would be able to tell. I hurt him so badly, I know. I didn't give him any reasons why. But, the other unintended fluke was that if I seemed distant or sad, the assumption was that I was moping over the loss of my first love.

So life went on. I never told a soul. Then I found this site. I'm here to tell whoever cares to know, that you can bury alot of stuff. But the crap just won't stay down forever.

Michele



Okay...as I write this, I cannot believe I am doing so, and I'm not even sure how much I am going to write. It's been over 2 years and though I have a therapist who has also helped me with my parents' divorce 4 years ago and who is also a rape survivor, I have never even told HER my whole story. So. Where do I begin? It was my freshman year, I am now a junior. I had met this guy 2 days beforehand at a fraternity party, he was a senior frat brother. I was so surprised -- after all, I was only a freshman, and he liked ME? We kissed that night, and he invited me to his fraternity's party that saturday. I said I'd see him there. That saturday night, my friends and I went out, first to a different party. Back then, one beer got me wasted, but since I could hold a lot, I would keep drinking and drinking and drinking, so by the end of the night, I would be completely obliterated but still hold my alcohol. That night, I had about 6-8 beers in an hour, hour and a half. To this day, I have no idea how I never threw up. Maybe if I did, things would have ended differently. Over a year later, I was told that i was dropping my beers everywhere, something I did when I was clearly intoxicated. I remember nothing of that.

SO finally, 2 friends and I [to this day, I only remember one of my friends going with me] went to his frat house. And then I did something stupid. I lost my friends. I saw my guy, went over to him, grabbed a beer [i do remember spilling it all over], and started dancing. He started to kiss me, and I told him I hated kissing in front of everyone, why don't we go to his room. If I could do anything differently, that would be it....I always wonder what people think when they hear that. I still blame myself for saying that. So we walked up to his room, room 6. I can remember thinking as I walked up the stairs "so this is what it's like..." We went in his room, and sat on the couch and started hooking up. I told him to lock the door, so no one would walk in on us. Another thing I wish I had never done. His room was a cold gunmetal gray, that's what I remember most about it. The lights from outside bounching off the walls in strips from the blinds. Rolling around on the couch, his weight on mine. He kept trying to take my tank top off -- "No, I have stomach issues, i don't like my stomach." He wouldn't listen, he just kept trying and trying. He said to me, "What are your intentions?" That, to this day, always sticks in my mind as my one chance to get out, my window of opportunity. I could have jumped to safety. Instead, I slammed it shut. "Oh, let's just take it as it comes..." And I started laughing. I remember the sound of his belt buckle, I know he wore plaid flannel boxers. How I know this, I don't know, but I KNOW. I was laying half on, half off the couch, with my feet on the floor, the majority of my legs under the table. My arms and legs got so heavy, from the alcohol -- a lot of people say it sounds like I was drugged, I will never know the truth -- and maybe even from the shock of "oh my g-d this can't be happening to me", but I could not lift my arms or legs. I just sank into the cushions. He shifted on top of me, and I blacked out. I remember waking up, pulling on my pants, going downstairs, getting a beer, and finding my friends.....I knew I had been raped but could not remember a thing.

Since then it has been one huge struggle. I am still at this college, he graduated that year, but I just saw him this past weekend, and it's thrown me into a tailspin ever since. I often wonder if surviving the rape was worth it. I try to believe everything happens for a reason, but I do have to wonder. My life has not been the same since and will never be the same again. He committed a crime, yet *I* am the one with the life sentence. Lately it's been harder for me, and I am beginning to even wonder if things will ever get better. I still cannot get angry about it, and I blame myself more than I have ever blamed him. So that's where I am with this...

survivor31



My mom says, that as a little girl, I was always afraid of men. I don't remember that far back, but I wonder sometimes if that's when it all started.

The first thing I remember was Halloween. I was about 13 years old, and I had decided to sleep on the living room floor. My father was out partying with his friends, and he came home some what out of sorts. He layed on the floor behind me and rubbed my back. He woke me up, and I ran in to my room. The next morning, he said I must have had some weird dream.

A few months later, I had started running track in jr. high. My back was sore and my dad said he'd rub it for me. It turned into a game of touchy-fealy for him. He asked me to let him take my virginity. He said that I should let him because he took his sisters and that was the only reason he knew what he was doing his first time. I ran out of the room, past my mother, and went straight to bed. He apologized the next morning, and gave me an extra $5 for my lunch that day. I started binging and purging. I went from 140 lbs to 100 lbs. I felt dirty and sick with myself, but all these encounters with my dad made me feel like I needed to have sex with someone, just so my dad couldn't take my virginity. I started dating at 13 and was pregnant a month after my 14th birthday. I was raped by my best friends crush during my pregnancy. He was 10 years older than me. No one believed me when I said it was rape, because i was already known as "easy". I remember trying to focus on the posters on her wall while it was happening. It was like I shut "off" like a light switch.

My bast friends mother even went to my sons grandmother and told her the baby wasn't her son's and that she knew it was my fathers. I had gone to her for help in both of these situations and turned my need for help against me.

My first night back from the hospital, after I had delivered my son, I ran myself a hot bath. I realized i hadn't grabbed a towel, so I opened the bathroom door. My dad was crouched down, peeping through the keyhole. He said he was looking for a pill on the floor, and I pretended to believe him.

My father started beating me up prety regularly, even in front of my son. 2 months after my 17th birthday I moved out. I took my son and we didn't see my parents for almost a year.

I now see them regularly. My father and I have never talked about these incidents, and sometimes I wonder if he even remembers or knows that they happedned.

I am very much in love now, but sex is a seperate part of my life I can't associate with love. I see it more as a neccessary evil.

Michelle




 
 
 
 
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