I hate that even now, as a 22 year old woman, my past and what you did forever chases me. Following the sexual abuse in my childhood at your hand, I was victimized by two other men as a teenager. I ended up in a mental hospital. I’m terrified of men, terrified of you. You have no idea what you did to me. Or how it messed up my life. But, I won’t let it define me. I will become somebody who is not a rape victim, but a successful person with a good life and a lot to be proud of. You don’t own me.
After several years of wearing only jeans out of fear and bad memories, I finally wore a skirt that I loved. The first thing a guy said to me? “It isn’t rape if she’s wearing a skirt.”
Around a year ago, I kissed a guy at a concert once who then asked if I would like to go back to his hotel with him. I politely refused his several offers and pushes, but then he pushed me into the men’s toilet, strangled and proceeded to rape me. He kept whispering in my “I know you want it” and now people wonder why I get so upset and angry every time I hear “Blurred Lines.”
It’s been years since (the last time) I was raped. We went to court and everything and when the judge sentenced the 3 of them, he first asked if they had something to say. One of them said he was sorry. I broke down crying because he was the one that anally raped me. He wasn’t sorry for what he did. He’s sorry I told. If he was sorry, he wouldn’t have told his lawyer that I was a whore. I hate him. I hate him so much.
4 years have passed and i still cant get over it.
I know he messed up something on my genitals because I get those sharp pains when there’s a blood influx in there, and I know it might be serious. I’m still too afraid to go to my gynecologist to get it checked out.
I self-harmed on my breasts, not because no one can see it there, but in hopes that the scars on my breasts I now have will make me unattractive to any other man looking to use me as the sex object I apparently am and forever will be.
I don’t know what is worse. My belief that I will never heal, or the fact that I’m beginning to accept it and be OK with it. I mean, what’s the point in trying to heal if I’ll never be anything more to men than a sex object, right?
When you see your rapist in the little town you both share and it takes every breath to keep from breaking down in tears or lashing out in a violent way because it’s been four years and my every nightmare has that piece of scum in it somewhere.
I had a party at my house.. some people came over and one was the guy I was talking to for a year, we had never done anything together. We were all drinking and hanging out, I was drunk, took a pill and don’t remember a lot after that, until I woke up the next day and was so sore. There was the guy in my bed and I asked if we had sex, he said yes like it was no big deal. And then I began to remember parts of waking up to him on top of me and trying to push him off and then passing out again.
It happened when I was almost 9. How can I just now be getting new memories 13 years later? I thought I was done with this nightmare. Now I’m graduating college and I feel like I’m starting all over again trying to get past this. How the fuck is this fair?
When I finally pulled my rapist’s fingers away from me I gave him a blow job to get him to leave me alone. Not only can I no longer perform fellatio, but I feel like because I gave the blow job it makes my rape null and void, even though I didn’t want to do it and it was a protection tactic.
February 7th is my birthday; it’s also the day I was raped, and this year suicides been roaming in my mind.
I would get over it, but he’s married to my cousin and they live with us. No one cares how much it hurts me.
I was raped a year and a half ago.