Anonymous's Story
Anonymous's Story
I am a 33 year old female. When I was 9 years old my parents took in two foster children. One of them raped me twice and had abused me on one occassion before that. I didn't tell anyone. My father had a terible temper and I knew that he would be incredibly angry-not something I wanted to deal with. My mother had told me once that some women deserved to be raped, was I one of thoes? Actually, I really didn't understand what had happened. He was just going to show me what it felt like. I didn't want to, be he told me I would be in trouble for the time I had already spent with him, and if I told anyone the authorities would put me in another home. Within a year I had missed school for a month-although nobody really knew what was wrong, I lost most of my friends, and I started gaining weight. My grades dropped from almost straigh A's to just barely scraping out B's. (However, doing school work felt safe and was a good place to hide, so I always managed to do well). I was very involved with church and 4-H, but looking back I can see that when the main meeting was over and it was time to have fun, it was time for me to leave. I didn't trust people, I didn't trust boys, I didn't trust anyone.When I was 16-18, my mother was constantly telling me that if I ever got pregnant, it would be okay to tell her, everything would be alright and I would stand there and listen and wonder why she was telling me this because I neither dating, nor was I interested in dating. I first started thinking about ways to kill myself when I was 14. I don't think I could ever carry them out, but it became a kind of a game. I would walk into a room and try to find at least 5 ways to kill myself in that room-breaking a window and cutting myself, strangling myself with the curtains, etc. I think in some ways it just provided a release for everything. I wanted to become insane by the time I was 21. Luckily that deadline has passed, but there are new ones. I made it through college although I have not been able to keep in contact with anyone, it is just to hard. It was during my final semester in college that I realized that I had been sexually abused-before that I knew something had happened but I didn't know what to call it. After college, I began a full time volunteer position. It was during my first year there that I began having lots of flashbacks, and it was the first thing I thought about in the morning and the last thing I thought about at night. I told a few people, one felt sorry but wondered why I had told her. Another one started talking about it everytime I saw him-ugh! Others were sympathetic, but it had happened in the past and I just needed to get over it, and I still do. Eventually, I spent three days in my room, only coming out to use the bathroom, and I was very proud of myself for being able to do that much. I have found an excellent therapist. I still have many ups and downs and have been hospitalized once for depression and self-abusive behavior. Sometimes, it seems that things have to get much worse before they get better. Although, out of that hospitalization, I also found a support group which has also been helpful. Recovery is VERY slow, but it is happening.
-Anonymous
My first sexual experience was when I was raped at the age of fifteen. I was spending the night with my best friend at her aunt's house in April 1987. My best friend decided to sneak out of the house to be with her boyfriend so I was home all alone. Her aunt and her boyfriend came home from a graduation celebration around 4am. I was asleep in the bed. The boyfriend (37 year old) came upstairs and woke me up with a chokehold. We struggled, but in the end he won. He placed a knife to my throat. He told me that he coould *%@$ me alive or dead take my choice. He cut my panties off and he torn my sleep shirt off. He placed his hand around my throat, and he began to rape me. We did every position you can imagine. For 4 1/2 hours he beat, tortured and raped me while his girlfriend slept downstairs. At one point during the rape I scream. He hit me so hard I saw stars. He even forced me to my knees and made me perform oral sex on him. When everything was over, he pinned my arms behind my back, placed a knife to my throat, and he told me the story of how he raped and killed an eight year old little girl years prior. He told me of how he raped her after he killed her. He then instructed me to beg for my life in which I did. Afterwards he got up and I ran to the bathroom. After hearing the door lock, he came to the door. He told me that if I didn't open up he would break down the door and kill me. I opened the door. He grabbed me by my hair. He made me take a bath. He sat there and watched me for about twenty minutes. Then he left. I got dress and I raced downstairs. My best friend's aunt was sitting on the couch. I told her what happened and surprise...she knew. They decided that I was too old to be a virgin. They felt that it was their place to teach me. She told me that she would take me shopping if I just kept quiet about what happened. I tried to get out of the front door, but it was locked. I raced upstairs. They followed me and cornered me in the bedroom. I blacked out. When I came too she was holding me down and he was performing oral sex on me. I screamed and she told me to shut up. Afterwards she left the room. I got up to held toward the door. He grabbed me. I asked him to please don't. He responded as his hands went up under my shirt to my breasts. As the aunt opened the door to get the newspaper, I saw my chance. I slide through his leggs down 4-5 steps, I jumped the rest (9-11) and ran out of the door in my shirt and underwear. As fast as I could I ran down the street to my house, 2 blocks away. My best friend told me that I asked for it. This event divided her family. Several times that day I thought I was going to die. Now after almost sixteen years later I battle with flashbacks and nightmares, but I know one thing. That day I prayed to God for a miracle. That day he answered my prayers.
When I was about 4 I was molested by my brothers friend, Timothy. He was 14. But don't forget that I was only 4. My brothers, his friends, and I went to the park so I could play. While I was walking Timothy picked me up to carry me. I was wearing a poka-doted outfit. He started putting his hands up my pant leg and touched me in between my legs and then my bottom. I said Timothy stop. Then were in the park and I had to use the bathroom and he took me into the woods and he said use the bathroom. I said don't look. He said ok, but he was looking. So I got up and ran as fast as I could up the street to my house. But he ran after me.
I banged on my door and my mom opened it and said whats going on here. Timothy said something but I can't remember. Then she looked down at me and said go to your room and she was mad. Later that night I came down holding myself and I went up to her and said"Timothy touched me mommy"! And then she broke down and cried. She held me close and kept crying. I was crying too. They took all of this to court. But they couldn't prove anything. So they let Timothy go. I couldn't understand it then but now I do.
I will never forget that. It will stay with me for the rest of my life. Now I'm 13 and still moving on. I am afriad of men and always will be though. I still cry about it. Thanks for taking your time and reading my story. I don't know where he is till this day but I never will forgive him for what he did. Well thank you for everyrhing. If you ever want to talk, email me at booppies10@hotmail.com Thank you again for everything.
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