Last year one of my best friends from school, Laura, hired out a club for a Christmas party and invited everyone she knew along. It was a great party, everyone drinking and dancing and having a great time. I met these two friendly guys called Carl and Jason who said they were from Laura's work. They bought me a couple of drinks and we had a laugh. After a while I started feeling a little dizzy so I went outside for some air and Carl came and joined me. He told me that my friends had gone along to grab something to eat from the Chinese takeaway and that we could catch up if we got a lift in Jason's car.

I got in the backseat with Carl and we drove away. I was feeling really dizzy and drowsy now and when Carl started kissing me forcibly I wasn't capable of resisting. When the car stopped we weren't at the Chinese we were in an empty car park. Carl forced me down in the backseat and pulled my skirt up. He held me down with his forearm across my throat so I could hardly breathe then pushed into me. All the time Jason was leaning over the front seat watching. When Carl was done Jason came round to have his turn. He was rougher than Carl, punching me in the face when I put up any sort of resistance. I passed out with the pain.

The next day I woke up on a couch at the house of a girl from school called Susan. She had found me in an alleyway near the club and taken me back there with her father. Susan was not a close friend of mine but she and her father looked after me, offering a warm bath, fresh clothes and some food. She asked me about my bruises and talked through what had happened. She had been sexually assaulted when she was younger and was full of support and reassurance. She recognised that I had been slipped Rohypnol to slow my reactions and impair my judgement and she accompanied me to the hospital so I could be checked over.

I was so lucky to have someone like Susan there for me and I am thankful every day. It hasn't been easy getting over that night but support from Susan, my other friends and my family has kept me going. I only wish that more victims have the luck that I had.

-Sarah

A friend gave me this site and over a period of two weeks I've read all of you're stories and all 187 pages worth of stories on another site. Unfortunately, that site doesn't seem to be working at the moment so I've decided to share my story here and now, 2:00 in the morning on Christmas Eve. Well, I guess it’s Christmas now isn’t it? I couldn’t sleep tonight. I was thinking about what happened when I was younger…I think about it a lot actually. More then I’m sure is healthy for me. But I can’t help it…I’ve read so many stories and they’ve all helped me feel like I’m not alone. I think that’s an important feeling to have, and I want to share my stories with others in case someone like me comes across it one day and it helps them too. Plus, I feel like it will help just to get it all out. Although few people know about what happened to me, even fewer know all the details, or any details for that matter-besides the fact that I was sexually molested. Actually, the only people who really know what went on are the person who did it, the children who witnessed it, and myself. Well here it goes…this is going to be hard.

I’m not exactly sure of my age at the time, but I was young. Unfortunately, not young enough so that I can’t remember it vividly. I was sent to a babysitters house after preschool each day. The lady there, “Big D” as we called her, babysat many children in her house. Actually she spent most of her time in the kitchen, smoking cigarettes and playing cards with people who are faceless to me now. She would only pay attention to us during naptime, when she’d take out her spatula and beat us with it when we wouldn’t go to bed. The rest of the time she had her daughter, “Little D”, look after us in the basement. Ah the basement, I’ll never forget the place. It was pretty much empty, with shelves all around filled with toys and lots of poles coming down from the ceiling. It was about three steps down from the kitchen to the basement. “Little D” would close and lock the door behind us each day. I’m not sure how many kids there were but I’m guessing between 5-10.

For whatever reason Lil D decided she liked me better then the rest of the little children and that I could be her toy, so to speak, while she babysat us. She used to tie me up to the poles that I spoke of earlier, using I guess rope. Sometimes she’d duck tape my mouth shut so I couldn’t scream. Then, as all the kids watched, she’d…for lack of a better word, torture me. That’s what it seemed like to me anyway, torture. She made me suffer down there, and continues 2 years later.

She liked to pull my hair. I think that was her favorite way to inflict pain on me when I wouldn’t listen to her. She’d pull my hair so hard I thought my head was just going to come off with it. She would tell me about all the stuff I was going to do to her, or she was going to do to me, ect. Of course I was much 2 young to understand any of it. I had no idea what she was talking about. I knew enough to know it was wrong, and that I didn’t like what she made me do.

After a bit of pulling my hair and such she’d let me go and tell me to go lie down on the floor. I remember exactly where it was; she’d have my head against the bottom stair leading up to the kitchen. And I remember the carpet very clearly; it was an orange-ish, thick one. I can never look at those types of carpets the same, or at the color orange. I loathe the color orange. Anyway, lying there, she’d do awful things to me. Things I can hardly think about now. And of course she’d make me do equally awful things to her as well, which again, I don’t want to think about. I guess that defeats the purpose of writing about this huh? If I wont talk about the actual things themselves? Well, a few things that I can talk about…she used to lie on top of me (duh), which now makes me pretty phobic to people lying on me. That’s how my parents originally figured out something was up, if anybody would be on top of me I would totally FREAK OUT. I’m getting better though. Also, she used to stick Barbie dolls up in me. No kidding. I think my mom may have found out about that also because when I was five or six I wrote it in my diary and she read it. I’m not sure though. Let me tell you for those of you who don’t know what it feels like, hopefully most of you, that it is SO PAINFUL. I used to bleed like mad. I refuse to wear tampons to this day. OUCH. Oh, but there is more. Much more. But nothing I’m ready to talk about yet, probably never. Lets just say it was painful, scarring, and disgusting -absolutely repulsive. I remember crying all the time and screaming. She would curse at me calling me a BITCH and a SLUT along with many other names which of course I didn’t have any idea what they meant except that they had a negative meaning to them. I really believe her calling me those horrible things and makign me feel so bad about myself has alot to do with why I am so insecure today.

Lil D told me if I was to tell anyone about what she was doing that she’d come after my parents and myself, and that she’d continue to pull my hair and hurt me even worse.

One day one of the kids stood up for me. He was a Chinese boy and I’ll never forget his face. He was beautiful. We had become great friends. Whenever “Big D” took the spactula to us and locked us in the bedroom together, we’d lie on her giant queen bed and nap. I remember one day the two of us ran from Big D as fast as we could. Of course she caught up and we got a pretty bad spanking for that one. Little D I think got jealous of our relationship or something, and when he stood up for me one day she decided to teach him a lesson or something because the next thing I remember is him being on the floor and her picking me up and standing me up onto his stomach. She grabbed my hair and pulled it upright, lifting me up with it. She told me to “bounce”. At first I refused but she pushed me up and down and made me. I remember just crying and crying, and looking down at his poor little face, stained with tears. His eyes looked so hurt. Almost everyday of my life I see his tear stained face in my head and I wonder if he remembers too? If I could do anything in the whole world, it would be to find him and apologize. I know it sounds weird but I would give ANYTHING to hug that kid and tell him how sorry I am. More then anything else that happened to me, that haunts me the most. If only you could see his face beneath me you’d understand. He drank both our tears that day. I would go through everything again if I could take back that day.

One day I guess I decided enough was enough. After enduring torture after torture, Barbie after freakin Barbie, sexual molestation after sexual molestation, everyday-with an audience of kids standing around us and watching the whole act….I finally said no one day when she told me to lie down. I continued to say now and she pulled my hair but I refused. I decided it was less painful to have my hair pulled then the rest of the stuff she did. So she took my pinky finger and broke it. She simply took it in her hand and snapped it. She told her mother that I’d broken it playing tag, that someone had stepped on it. I think her mother knew the truth, I really do. But she told my parents the same, and so did I. To this day I have not told them the truth about that, and do not plan on it. Matter of fact, no one knows the truth really.

A little while after that it continued. Until we moved away. The day we left that place I remember sitting in the car and telling my mom “I never want to go back there again”. She didn’t know at the time why that was.

Last year the two D’s called my house to check in on us. My parents had a vague idea somthign went on but they didn’t know at all to what extent. When she called I freaked out, I burst out in tears. It was like a huge blast from the past. Later I told my, at the time best friend about it, and I cried on her pretty much the whole night. And she told me about stuff she’s gone through and we cried together. She was the only person who I ever felt could really understand what I went through. She hasn’t been molested but she’s gone through a lot of trying times and I felt like she could relate to me in a way, more then anyone else can. She definitely helped me get through a really rough period and I don’t think I could’ve made it thru okay without her.

Everyday I thank god for my wonderful friends because they have helped me through so much. All of them have. Without my friends I’d be a lost cause. They mean the world to me and I love them all so much. I think if you can find a friend or someone to relate to in these type situations it can make all the difference in the world. So if anyone out there needs a friend to talk too please email me at U2blu4me@hotmail.com. Thanks.

KT

Ashley's Story