The spring before my freshman year, which was three years ago, my parents were out to dinner. It had been a tough day, so I decided to go for a run on the bike path behind my house. I had my headphones on, so I couldn't hear anything around me. As I rounded a turn, a man grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth, dragging me into the woods. I screamed, but no one heard my cries. There seemed to be so much I wanted to yell at this guy, but I was frozen; nothing but screams came out. He had a knife, and I was so scared that this sick pervert was gonna cut me up. As he raped me, I felt like I wasn't even in my body. It was like I was looking a movie or something. While he was doing that, he told me to shut the fuck up. He said if I told anyone he would come find me. After he was finished, he made me lay on my stomach until he went away. I ran home in a complete state of shock and took a scalding hot shower, but none of the dirtiness went away. I vowed to myself that I would never think about what had happened ever again, but that was not at all possible. I went three months without telling anyone, but one day I just broke down. I was listening to Tori's music, and it was like a door opened up, and all my feelings pushed the reality in my face. I cried on my bed for hours, and finally I told my parents what had happened. My family was outraged, and they wanted me to go to the police. I didn't want to, but I did in hope that I would save someone else from going through what I had. It was awful; they tried to turn it around so that it was my fault, that I had provoked this guy to do this terrible thing. My family tried to fight it, but it wasn't a case because there was no physical evidence, and the whole thing just died. Now, three years later, I have grown stronger, but it still hurts a lot. There are good days and bad days, but now I can deal with the bad days. While I have come a long way, I still have a long way to go because you never can really get over something like this; it becomes a part of you. The hardest part is that I feel like a part of me is gone; I lost my innocence and my ability to trust. There is so much self-hatred that goes along with it; sometimes I wish I could find the innocent little girl that I used to be, but I know she is gone. There is a new challenge to be faced everyday, because what happened to me will never disappear. It affects many areas of my life, but I no longer let him rule my life. No matter how isolated you may feel, you are not alone. Thank you for hearing my story . . . feel free to write me anytime.

Love,
Chelsea(chelsea@columbus.rr.com)
 



 



I'm confused. I've read every survivor story on your page, and I can remember a time when I felt like that....but...

I don't feel as if what happens to me 'counts' or that it's something to worry myself over, but deep down I know it's wrong. When I was about 5 or 6 it started, at least those are my first memories, which I don't have much of. I had one younger cousin, and one older cousin (by three years) *they were brothers* My older cousin, so it started would tell me and his brother that when we played house, we had to have sex and do *sex stuff* cuz we were "married". We never wanted to play, but he told us that if we didn't that he would tell our moms that we DID. My little cousin would perform oral sex on me, this I remember most vividly, and his older brother would watch. Christ, made me so sick, that nasty fuck....I remember some things happening with him (the oldest) in the toy room under a makeshift tent, but no real memories there. I remember him telling his mom to push mine and my little cousins beds together when we were little, he told her that I always fell out of bed. *what the hell?* and he would come and make us 'play' with each other while he watched. I only remember once having 'sex' but to the best of my knowledge my little cousin wasn't hard, that or it was just cuz he was small, we were only between 6-8 he 'fucked' me and my older cousin put all my toys around my bed and sat across the room and watched. that was the only time I remember crying...even then I was so numb.

There were other instances as I got older, he would expose himself to me, once asking me to suck his dick and promise not to tell (that NEVER happened!) this was when I was around 13 or 14 or so. We went on this hike once, just me and him up on the hills by where I lived. I had repressed all memories of the abuse (?) up until now and it starts to rain and we're up on this hill, he takes some fallen tree trunks and leans them against the hill, it's really small, we drape our coats over the trunks to keep us dry. He asks me to play XXX double dare. I'm really nervous now and I don't want to play, but he keeps bugging me, so I tell him to do these stupid outrageous dumb things that I know he won't do and maybe he'll leave me alone. (example: pull yer pants down, run around in circles then go hump a tree) he's like, "no, like, dare me to finger you or something, it's no big deal, me and "nicole" (his other cousin) do this stuff all the time." *SHOCKED* whoa....this was gettin' weirder and weirder, so I just tell him to leave me alone. The rain stops and he goes outside to pee, I walk away and he tells me to watch him...I say 'that's ok' and walk away, he asks why I won't play with him, he says, but you and "brian" (his little brother) used to do it all the time. I was shocked and confused at this, we went home, I couldn't deal any more. A few nights later, I was making tea and his comment shot into my mind and all of a sudden these images are running through my head, I remember, not much, but enough to make me feel like shit and go into a downswing (I was already a messed up kid, bipolar, etc) that lasted about 2 years. I was suicidal for awhile, but then I got into self injury and have been doing it since. (am 19 now) That's about 6 years.

The problem here is that I don't think that it's an issue for me anymore. I mean, for awhile it was, then I wrote this poem, the first time I really allowed myself to "get it out" my g-ma found it, grilled me, and I wouldn't tell her a damn thing. She got mad, "I was raped to, I got over it" and she tells me for years that that's in the past, that it doesn't affect my life anymore, get over it, etc....I have a really great bf of almost 4 years now, we'll be getting engaged soon. :) He's put up with a lot from me in the past with my personal problems, but if those thoughts ever brought me back to that place, for awhile he was understanding, then he just started to wonder why I couldn't just 'get over it' now like it happened yesterday ya know? Now, when I think about it, and even just writing it, I feel almost like it didn't even happen to me, like, that's not an issue for me anymore, that wasn't ME, and even if it was, hey, that was a long time ago...

I'm starting to think that I've heard it so many times that I'm feeling this way to please everyone else...I dunno, it's like it doesn't hurt anymore...

I still cut, though not sure why, unless maybe deep down I really do still care about these things, maybe somewhere there's a part of me that hurts and I"m not letting myself feel that pain, so I cut, and let it all drain out...Who knows. I feel for all of you on here and *hugs* to all and I am so sorry that any of us had to hurt like this. I totally agree with one of tori's quotes, about how there are rape prevention classes for little girls, but no classes for little boys to teach them not to rape. Tori IS the madness in my head at times, I don't know how I ever got by without her...

This is really hard for me to do, no one really knows this stuff about me, but my name is Alicia, if you want to talk, I'm here...and hey, I always need to talk, so if you got a good set of ears, mail me.... :)

p.s, nothing I wrote really affected me, except putting my name, this is a BIG step for me. Thank you....
 



 


I am printing my story on this completely awesome site, more in search for help then to give it. My story is FAR from done, as I am an only 16, and I am in an unusual predicament.

Well, I have always been an abnormal kid. Since the 6th grade I'd pray to heaven to let God come and kill me away. I'd cry myself to sleep, and carve words like "empty," "vacant," "worthless," "slut," all over my arms, hips, waist and other spots that not many people would see. I would so much as hold hands with a boy, and I had nightmares of being raped almost everyday, in my sleep and wake. I didn't understand why I had such a sickness, and I thought I was born defective, like some kids were born mentally handicapped or hard of hearing, I thought I was born a loser.

I finally found a person I could trust at 15. Almost everybody, best friends, boyfriends, dad and mom, had left me physically or emotionally to sulk in my madness. So when this guy liked me (who I later found out had a sexual abuse story of his own) I tried my hardest to scare him away. I'd tell him what a slut he was making me feel like when he'd kiss me all the time and I'd refuse to kiss him, then get angry because he wasn't kissing me anymore and accusing him of not finding me attractive. I'd tell him I didn't want to see him, because I'd rather stay home and cut myself then look at his face. One day he told me something I'd never forget, he said, "Dear, you can try as hard as you can to push me away, but I am going to keep coming for you. I am not going to leave you, I love you." I finally found some trust, which brings me (finally) to the topic of this story.

We began to get sexual. The first time he touched my private area's (everything he did to me was consensual this is the only boy who wasn't a jerk I've ever met) I began to daze out and instead of seeing my affectionate boyfriend being..well affectionate, I saw my father as a horrible monster doing things to me. I pushed it to the back of my mind, but when I went a bit farther (oral sex), the sightings got stronger, and weird dreams and fantasies would come to my head of being raped by an uncle. Before I met this guy (at ages 12 or 13), I had a reoccurring thought of a blooding penis attacking me or weird aliens taking my sex. I went home and thought to myself, 'why are you thinking such horrible things Mandy, are you such a slut that you'd want to do that to your dad, or you uncle. You are so sick you want to be raped by weird creatures from outerspace?' I searched deep and hard for something to come, and it didn't take long. It was like a misplaced memory of a picnic you attended as a child. You don't think about the fun, the sun pouring on your back, the smell of mustard and hot dogs everyday of your life, but then something strange triggers it and the memories come flowing. But unfortunately, my memory wasn't as happy as that. I remembered being forced into submission at 5. I remembered weird and empty nights years later. These are the two things I remembered:

At 5 years old I remember my uncle (who has raped over 7 people to the families knowledge already) and his wife (also caught molesting a cousin of mine at the age of 8 months) were baby-sitting me at my father's request (what an awful father right? You'll hear more about him, later though..I have to take this one story at a time.) Well, I remember as soon as my parents drove out of the drive way, him throwing me on the ground, and his wife by the window, on the look out. I can remember the fear I felt, I can remember this evil grinning eyes, his ivory polo shirt moistening with the blood of my genitals more and more every time he rammed into me, his wife's poodle resembling hairdo and awful bright floral shirt, most of all I remember the pain. He raped me, violently, and when he was done he went in the rest room to change. His wife the molested me, sticking her fingers inside me, to see if I was hurt to bad. Then I remember them proceeding to the couch to watch TV while I lie on the ground in the other room sobbing, wishing I was dead.

Years later (I can't pin point timing on this one), I remember my dad taking baths with me, I can remember me having to play with his penis like a toy. I remember asking him (this memory is just coming to me RIGHT NOW) if my uncle had done something evil to me, because it hurt so bad. He told me "Honey, he was just preparing you for the future." I can remember him forcing me into performing oral sex, and his fingers inside me after showers and when he came home late at night. The most vivid memories I have with him, are a time he stuck his fingers in me after a bath, him making me do things to him in the bath, and a certain incident where I had to perform oral sex with him with no lights on, with the exception of the glimmering lights of a porno flick he watched.

My story though, is still spelling j-e-p-o-r-d-y. I went to a psychiatrist (I call her a cookoo doctor) and she told social services..but when my dad found out about her telling social services (she told because I told her I think I hear him going into her bedroom at night) he forbid me to see her. He went and talked to her and she told him she was sorry, and didn't believe me anyway. My mom, after I told her, said maybe my uncle, but not my dad. She thinks I am confusing my uncle with my dad. She says I am full of shit for telling on my dad because it wasn't true, and they were both decent, loving parents, (coincidentally, she told me this as she was smoking pot while driving me home). MY dad tells me I was never in any position where I could have been sexual abused by anybody (though he is a work and alcoholic, so he was really never around to know who I was with.) and I needed to stop being so evil, because it was serious what I was doing, and he could lose his job (he is a sexual crimes detective..the sickest and most ironic things I have seen.)

Well, now I am lost. My family said they were going to see family therapy, but haven't talked about the incident, and act like it doesn't happen. The only people who believe me is my fiance (yes, the nice guy) and his family. I don't know how to go about getting out of the situation. I think I can sit here and wait out the year and 3 months and 3 days I have till being 18 (yes I count the days.) but then something unbearable happens, like a fight, or my dad trying to control my actions, my dad trying to not let me see my fiance at all, or the weirdest thing, my dad will take tapes of him investigating child molesters and make sure I am around when he plays them. He turns them on, and pumps up the volume as higher when the conversation gets more graphic.

I am codependent on the words of Tori Amos to get me through the days. Every song of hers has a special meaning and I can twist into metaphors about my traumas and weird experiences..even out of the sexual abuse conversation. Like me being bisexual, me being alone (besides my fiance I have no close friends, and I've been forced myself into alternative schooling, because whenever I go to the normal high school I am harassed by the guy I told on for grabbing my breast and threatening to rape me, by guys that think they need to comment as loudly as the can about my breast, or by the many members of different girl cliques telling me how slutty, annoying, disgusting, or unusual I am.), and my manic depression. But Tori can only do so much, (To Tori if you are reading this, which you probably aren't: Thank you soooooooooooo much!). I need advice on what to do about my situation, on how I can come out of seclusion and find friends worthy of trust, and how to become strong and believe I am not worthless. Possibly not going to see a shrink..because I am going to have the hardest time trust one, especially one who has only read about what I am going through. I want so much to become a better person, but I don't know how to go about doing it. Please help! you can email me at erswthfeet@aol.com
 


 
 Hello, My name's Katherine I'm 17. I live in a small town with one high school where pretty much everyone knows eachother and their stories. I came on the internet just to search for info on a topic for school, and I ended up at your site. It really touched me. I guess cause it hit a little too close to home. In the summer I had a bad experience like yours but it was with two guys that I know. I was at a place where I thought I was safe enough, but I was the only girl and they were drunk. I'd been with the one guy before, that's why I was there. The rudeness kept increasing so I left the room to get a break from it all and they followed me. I tried to push them away, I tried just talking and reasoning, I told them to stop and fuck off. But they weren't really hearing me, they were too busy hurting me, in every way. So I turned my head to the side as they laughed at the fact that he wasn't using a condom. As soon as the fist one "finished", I jumped up, I was mad. But the other guy didn't get his turn so he got mad and started yelling things at me. I went to the bathroom and cried for what seemed like awhile. I came out and went to the other room to try and sleep while I waited for my cousin to get back, just so I could pretend that nothing happened. I'm really feeling alot of the things you wrote. I don't know how to handle all of this, it seems like too much. And there's too many feelings to go along with it all. I know there's not really anything you can say, but if you'd like to email me, you can at jooky24@hotmail.com. It's nice to know that someone is at least generally feeling the things that I am but it still doesn't change how I feel.

 


 
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