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whispers in the dark

yes he takes the privacy
yes he takes the skin
but my spirit's too deep and too pure and too strong
and he can't get in
-anna lee

untitled by anonymous

i was 13 years old when i was raped. at this time my mom was in the hospital. she has ms and wasnt expected to live for very long. my brother and sisters were at a friends house down the street. i was napping when they left. when i woke up i decided to go to the store. walgreens is about 3 blocks from my house. i live in the desert and its hot in the summer. i wanted an icecream. such a simple thought. so i left a note saying i was at walgreens in case they were home before i was. i got about 2 blocks from my house and a man grabbed me from behind, and put his hand over my mouth and partially over my nose. i could barely breathe. about 2 feet from where he grabbed me, there is a little alleyway. he carried me in there and gently layed me down. he still had his hand over my mouth and with his other hand he unbottoned and unzipped his jeans. i was trying to get is hands off my mouth and nose so i could breathe and scream. his hands were too big and strong. i was wearing creme cotton shorts with green flowers and a green tanktop. he just pulled down my shorts and panties. he held my arms up over my head at my wrists. to this day i freak out if anyone grabs my wrists, or even touches my wrists at all. i tried so hard to scream but i was concentrating on breathing. at the same time i didnt want to breathe because his breath smelled like something rotting and stale alcohol. he spread my legs with his feet and was positioned so he was kneeling over me. his legs pinning my legs down. i tried getting up but could only lift my head and shoulders. he pushed me down and i hit my head on a rock. all i could feel was pain. pain in my head and pain from him being inside of me, tearing me. he was saying how he thought i was enjoying it and it wasnt my first time anyways, that i was a slut and a whore. i was 13 and a virgin. i remember hearing cars passing and trying to make noise so someone would help me. it was daytime and no one stopped. the alleyway is visible from the busy street next to it. i dont know how long i was there, but it seemed like forever. i dont know when he left. i dont remember seeing or hearing him leave. i didnt go straight home. i walked around the neighborhood for a bit just in case he didnt leave and would follow me. when i got home, everyone was still gone. i was thankful for that. i didnt want them to see what had happened to me. i took a shower right away and tried to scrub away all of him. i had scrapes from the rocks against my butt and legs. and bruises on my arms and wrists. i burned my clothes in the backyard. they were torn and bloody. when he was inside me, i tore and i bled for days. no one noticed too much how depressed i was, they thought it was because my mom was in the hospital and i was sad because of that. they didnt notice that i would only wear pants and long sleeve shirts either. over the years i became very good at hiding the way i felt. so many times i thought about killing myself and no one ever knew. i didnt remember any details and then it slowly started coming back in nightmares and flashes if anyone touched my wrists or covered my mouth or touched me at all and had boney fingers. i can describe exactly what he looked like. he was about 6'2, short blonde hair, tanned skin. he has icy blue eyes. he had big hands and boney fingers. his hands were calloused. he was wearing a dark blue fitted teeshirt and jeans. he was wearing combat boots. i never told anyone til recently. i had a long distance relationship with G. he called me one night and i fell asleep on the phone. he said i was crying and screaming and made me tell him why. it took me about 3 hours to just say i was raped. he was worried about me because i was so depressed and so he told my mom. shes asked me to talk to her about it but i cant. i didnt tell her when it happened cause i didnt want to worry her. she was sick enough and dealing with her own problems anyways. i would have nightmares nearly everynight since then and so i would do anything to stay awake. if i wasnt asleep i wouldnt have nightmares. i would stay awake til i couldnt anymore and til i was so exhausted i wouldnt dream at all. i still do that. its been nearly 4 years. but im no longer a victim. im a survivor.

i am one of the many by jem.

I recall strange things from long ago. My father was always the type to watch pornos. My parents would watch them with my bedroom door wide open, and the TV was right across from my bed. I could just turn around and watch whatever they had on. I remember one night, they actually let me watch one with them when I was very young, like age 3 or 4. I remember exact details. My father was actually the first person to come up with the concept of "renting" the disgusting filth, in our small town. Previously, they were only sold, not rented. My father was always a sexist pig. Everywhere we went, he would belittle women and young ladies, alike. He would look at them in a demeaning way, and say, "Nice ass.", or, "Nice tits." Things of that nature. He would do it in front of my mother. He would especially do it in front of me, just driving somewhere. I remember feeling ashamed and disgusted. I felt sorry for my mother, and thought of her as "pathetic" for not being stronger. My abuse was not a typical kind that is heard about (thank goodness!). I was the oldest child. I always had the feeling that my father was "preparing me" for his future plans. He was waiting it out until I was "ripe", or something. He was trying to brainwash me into thinking that the things he did, and the way he was, was all right. That it was normal. He did a lot of subtle kinds of sexual abuse. He would come into my room (which, for a long time, I shared with my older cousin) and tell us stories. Sometimes these stories would turn into some kind of a sex game. I remember one night specifically, he had both of us take off our clothes so he could look at us. He was really interested in looking at here, since she was just starting to develop her breasts. He was suppose to show us himself in exchange. I do not recall the even exchange, only that he was obsessed with seeing her body. He would have his friends over, and videotape them having sex. He would have sex with my mother in the front room, a lot, late at night. I remember one night, getting up to use the bathroom. There was only a love seat between me and my parents. My father was obviously naked, and standing over my mother, whom I could tell was lying on the ground, naked. I thanked the stars for that love seat being in the way. My father actually had the nerve to ask me, "Do you want to watch us?" I was aghast. I said (of course) "No, I'm fine." He then went on further, pressuring me: "Are you sure you're not curious at all? Cause it's okay, you can watch us." I again said, "No, I'm fine. I'm not curious at all." I don't know how many times he bugged me about it. I just went to the bathroom as fast as I could and ran back to bed. I couldn't believe my mother just sat there and said nothing. Well, part of me could, because I think she was afraid of him, just like the rest of us. He would beat me, a lot. So would she, but not as bad. She would tell him everything, so I was not able to trust her. If she told him anything about me, I would be hurt in some way or another. He would hurt her, too. She was also verbally abusive to me, and my younger siblings. My aunt (her sister) was also extremely physically abusive of me. Well, anyway... when I was 10 years old, I was in the fifth grade, and our class had an experiment done do them. We were the youngest class to ever have sex-education taught to us. They started thinking that it might be a good idea, that we might be mature enough to handle it, and also, because they were worried that more and more kids were getting pregnant too early. Our class was the only one of the 3 fifth grade classes in my school to get sex-ed. My father got wind of that (my worst nightmare!). He took it as an opportunity to "teach" me more. He, as usually, had his supply of pornographic materials handy. He discussed with my mother about sharing them with me as a "supplement" to my sexual education. My mother said, "David, absolutely not! Don't you dare!" A little while later, she had to go to the store. While she was gone, he pushed and pushed me to watch the videos. I kept telling him that I didn't want to watch them. I told him I wasn't curious. He would not take no as an answer. He all but forced me to watch two of his movies with him. He told me he was going to educate me further about sexual education. He said these movies were going to teach me about "oral sex". I remember the name of one of the videos. It was called "Right Between the Cheeks" (certainly not about oral sex of *any* kind!). All I remember from it (and I'm certain I tried to block it out) was 3 black guys sitting around in these folding chairs, telling one sex story after another, and a scene following each. The next tape, I do not remember the title of, but it had a girl named "Venus" in it who was getting gang-banged. I will never forget that as long as I live. I still would have no concept of it to date, if it weren't for my "education". My father had his arm around me tightly throughout the whole thing, as if to say, "You're not going anywhere, whether you like it or not." My mother came home after what seemed like ages, and just stood behind us, watching. She claims (after all these years) that she was pissed off beyond all belief at my father. If that is true, why didn't she stop him? She also tries to claim that I begged to stay up and watch more. That, I am most certain, was not the case. I recall getting away and running to bed as quickly as possible, as soon as the "jaws of life" would relinquish their gasp on me. Around that time, my room was the old dark room. It had a door that didn't fit right, so there was about a 3-4 inch gap where there should've been a door. My father was a strange, if not cheap, remodeler. I sometimes wonder if he planned it out that way. He moved to having sex with my mother in the adjoining family room, very close to where I slept. I'm sure he knew I could hear everything, and in fact, he was counting on it. It's no wonder I have severe insomnia, now. I remember, in particular, one night, when he was counting. It was like he wanted me to get a mental image of what he was doing. He was very verbal and very audible. I think he was putting one finger at a time inside my mother, until he had his entire fist inside her. I felt like puking. My father was actually living out those disgusting fantasies he would watch on his porn films. He did other "subtle" things, to other people. I remember he had his camcorder (always one of the first people to have the new technology), and he depantsed one of our friends ( a boy child), and he went up to the camera and removed his pants, leaving only his underwear, and moved his cock and balls around on the outside of his underwear with his hands, acting like he was so funny, or something. He taped both of those events. Oh, anyway, when he showed me those movies, he told me I could never tell anyone. I didn't care. That was the last straw. I went to my homeroom teacher, and asked him if he could keep a secret (cause otherwise, my father would have literally killed me) He promised that he would keep my secret. His name was Mr. Swinford, and I trusted him. What choice did I have, anyway? I had to trust somebody. So, I told him my story. The next day, I was called to the office. There was a caseworker from CSD, there. At that point, I had never heard of CSD. I kind of got an idea of what she was, and I was instantly terrified, and I felt betrayed! She asked me a lot of questions. She told me that she would protect me from my father. She told me that my parents and I would have to go to counseling. That really scared me. I knew my father would be really mad, and that he would kill me. Sure enough, he almost did... Well, I went to my counselor, and she told me nothing was wrong with me, and that I didn't have to go back unless I wanted to. I chose to go back, cause she had a room with lots of neat toys... When I went back again, she would not let me go back anymore, because I was fine. My parents had to go for a long time, and my father WAS really angry with me. I found out, however, that Mr. Swinford had not "betrayed" me, but that this kid I considered a "bully" had overheard the conversation, and went home and told his mother. All I can remember is that his name was Troy, maybe his last name is Wagoner. If I ever find him, I plan to extend my deepest heartfelt thanks to him. From then on, my life was better. My father stopped abusing me. He threatened me only once more, and I ran to the phone and said, "Do you want me to call CSD?!?" He replied with a horrific look in his eyes, "What do you want to do, tear this family apart?!?" I looked him right in the eyes and said without hesitation, "Yes, I do!" He left me alone from then on! Yay! Later on, my father was planning to move us to Boise for some strange reason. He was selling half our stuff, and packing our stuff really quickly. As it turns out, the police though my father was a local "child pornographer" (and he very well may have been, but, we will never know). The police came to our house with a warrant for his arrest and to seize all items of sexual content, including all of our movies (even the family ones), all magazines with potential sexual content, any pictures or paintings of that nature, and so on. I had an eerie feeling that he was hiding somewhere, because he disappeared all of a sudden. I decided to go "feed the animals", which was one of my many chores (I was a Cinderella), only, I was doing it out of context time, on purpose. What better way to see if my father was hiding in the garage out back? And he was. And he whispered to me, "pst, pst.", and, "Don't tell them I'm here. go pack as much as you can, we're getting out of here as soon as they leave. We're moving to Boise right now." My father still held a great deal of fear over my head, so, for some strange reason, I did as he said. I kick myself to this very day for not telling them where he was. My sisters and brother were at the babysitter about a mile from where we lived, and they were already taken into custody, and being taken to a foster home. For some strange reason, they gave me a choice of staying with my parents (dumb, duh!) because they felt I was old enough to handle being with them, or, I could go with my little sisters and brother in order to comfort them. I chose to go with them. They kind of "tricked" me, and took me in the opposite direction. Three years later, my father got off on statute of limitations, since he had moved to Boise right away, and because he would do the bare minimum requirements, usually involving counseling.

a brief introduction by manny.

My story begins when I was ten years old. My brother had a friend who lived next door to us. His father used to look at me and smile all of the time. One day he invited me to the beach and began to tell me that we could have a special friendship, just the two of us. He told me that he would not take his children along to the beach with us, it would be just the two of us. I asked my grandmother, and she okayed the trip.

When we got to the beach, I remember he asked me if I wanted a soda or something to eat. I said no, and we sat in the car. Soon, he placed his hand on my lap and began to speak to me about how good he felt to be with me alone. He explained that he other little friends that he would go out with alone and described the fun he had with them. He asked me if I had ever kissed anyone. I told him yes, my grandmother and mother, etc. Then he asked me if it would be all right for him to kiss me. I remember he kissed my face and then asked me whether I would like to kiss him back.

He began to talk to me about kissing his wife and he asked whether I would kiss him that way. I explained I did not know what he meant, and he told me that he would teach me how. He placed my head on his lap and lay me on the front seat of the auto. He bent over to my face and began to french-kiss me. This lasted for a while and I could feel the activity under my head in his pants.

It did not take long after his many compliments about my kissing for him to ask me whether I had ever kissed a man's pipi. He charmed me onto his penis and I remember the sensation of having a food in my mouth that I could neither chew nor swallow. He kept me there until he ejaculated. Soon after, we were on our way back home. He promised that we would be the closest friends. He asked me never to tell anyone about it because we would both be in trouble, and I agreed. I knew my grandmother would kill me if she knew I had done this with a man.

On numerous other occasions, Rafael (that was his name) invited me to come over for soda or ice cream. Nothing came of it but his need to probe into me. I remember once his sticking it in my mouth while his wife and kids were in the other room. He had me behind the door to his kid's bedroom and all I could do was accept him.

Shortly thereafter, my cousin invited himself into my room at night. He was a bully who my grandmother used to 'make us do' her bidding. My only leverage to keep from being beaten up in the day was to allow him entrance at night. For years he came into my room almost every night to be serviced orally or to take anal sex from me. It became painful and dangerous when I reached the age of 15. For the first time I stood up to him and he found his way to women. I was not aware at the time that he had also been molesting my brother in the next bedroom.

Once, during my entrapment, I recall asking him not to be so crazy about his needs. He had demanded that I let him fuck me while my grandmother sat in the kitchen just ten feet from us. I refused and he grabbed me and took me without hesitation. He put me in an arm hold and said "you see, I told you she wouldn't hear us". I was furious to have endured it.

When my cousin left us alone, during a visit to my aunt's house in New Jersey, one of her illegal tenants raped me and his room-mate molested me. He had witnessed the rape and told me he wanted some of the same for himself or he would tell my grandmother. I was nauseous at the thought of having to service that fat, ugly bastard. He kept changing from my ass to my mouth...I could vomit at the thought of what went on in that attic.

Just the same, until a year ago I felt totally responsible for these events. On some level I felt that I wanted them to happen. I lived as if it had all been my plan. Then the memories started to creep in. I began to wonder how many kids really want to suck a stranger's cock on a trip to the beach. I wondered how many people really wanted to be fucked ever other night against their will...and I wondered how many people yielded to a friendly request for help and had a cock shoved up their ass without any preparation...

Two months ago, I was finally able to resolve the process and accept what had happened. I was lucky that the catharsis took place during a program (Tha Landmark Forum) and I was able to see it for the first time for what it was. I was also happy to discover that nothing was that should not have been. From the onset of these trials, I was being prepared for the single job of helping others through their ordeals. I am currently looking for a group or corporation to donate a building to help victims of abuse. May 20th, I will start a series of lectures which are designed to help me through the process of obtaining community assistance in this matter. Wish me luck. I wish you all the best of luck in drawing your sanity again from the pile of crap that others have helped to make out of our reality.

Oh, yes...did I mention that I was a male?

my story by keri

I am not even sure where to begin. My freshman year at Duquesne University was when I was raped. I was raped by my ex-boyfriends best friend. I was at a party, drinking, and a friend of mine was all over me, so I wanted to leave. He offered to walk me back to my dorm and since I knew him and trusted him, I left with him. He talked me into going for a walk around campus. He stopped walking and faced me when we were between two buildings on campus and he kissed me. It was fine with me, so I kissed him back. Everything was fine until he tried to go further and I told him no because I've never had sex before. He deliberately tripped me so I was on the ground. That feeling of being helpless and out of control was horrible. I screamed, cried, and struggled to no avail. I even hit him at one point in time, however when he hit me back I realised that maybe I shouldn't hit him anymore. It hurt a whole hell of a lot more than when I hit him. I even begged him. And he raped took me months to say that. Rape is such an ugly word and I had such a hard time saying it. He made me feel like it was my fault, because I let him kiss me and I left with him. I didn't tell anyone. I just went back to my dorm and took a nice long shower. It took me months to tell my roomate and my best friend. I am currentlyin counseling which has helped tremendously and hopefully will continue to do so. I see this guy everyday since we are in the same building (we have similar majors) and he has made my life a living hell. He talks to me, grabs me, asks me if I'd like to "fuck" and when I said "Fuck You!," he said "I believe we have already done that." It got to the point where he threatened me and left bruises, so I finally did something about it and I went to the police. I now have a retraining order against him. I still get phone calls from some of his friends and occassionally I hear about him, and of course I still see him, but at least I did something about it.

untitled by jenn b.

this is very difficult for me to write but my therapist believes that the more i am able to talk about it the more i will have control over the shame and guilt - and maybe i will be able to finally love myself this will get graphic so i hope it does not trigger anything for anyone - if so i apologize i was first molested by my stepbrother Troy at age 7...he was visiting and one day we were laying down watching cartoons and he put a blanket over us...he proceeded to put his hand down my pants and put my hand on his penis...he had me stroke him while he "played" with me - the hard thing to come to grips with is that i remember thinking this is wrong but it felt good at the same time - my therapist reminds me that God made that part of our bodies to respond to stimulation - but it still makes me feel like a child-whore. I tried to tell my mother but she said, "stop trying to be a princess and get all the attention"...she didn't believe me even though at this point i was wetting my bed and sucking my thumb! her first 9 i was already developing and had small breasts - one hot day my stepdad told me to take off my shirt if i was hot - that it was ok - i ran into my room and hid. i began to do that a lot because as i got older he made more comments about my blossoming body and he made me feel dirty - he made excuses for us to be alone and he used to sing this fucking song to me - some old song that had my name in it - he never touched me besides rubbing against me but i think if he'd have had the chance...he got me drunk at 10 - thinking it was funny - my mom just said "well you'll feel like shit in the morning"...i started drinking daily after that...i started doing drugs at 13 i got caught for my only time ditching - me and 3 males friends had gone to this clubhouse behind a golf course and spent the day drinking a few beers and smoking pot - when i was found out my mom didn't ask if i'd been hurt by these guys she beat the shit out of me and accused me of fucking all three!! she kept yelling at me "do i need to take you in for a pregnancy test?? do i need to have you tested for vd??" *i had only been kissed once by this age and not counting the molestation i knew almost nothing of sex* i ran away at 15 after my mom left her 2nd husband and was pregnant by some alcoholic she moved in with - i was very heavy into drugs and alcohol at this point - i'd tried the "perfect daughter" route already but nothing was ever good enough for her - i lived in fear - being mentally abused daily by her. While i was on the streets i became a junkie and one time i was "sold" for drugs to a disgusting old man who ran a burrito shop...i can still remember his fetid breath and missing teeth...his scalp was mottled and his hair greasy...i cried the whole time and he enjoyed fucking me the more i cried...every time he was done i tried to move off the bed but he'd pull me back and force me to lay next to his fat body. he made me get into degrading positions and he was very rough with me, bruising my wrists, arms and legs...even though i'd had sex before this was painful physically and emotionally - i just wanted to throw up each time he touched me. i tried to keep my eyes squeezed shut because i felt i would go insane if i had to look into his eyes - and i couldn't sleep cuz i'd been shot up with speed. i was able to escape the next day...barely able to walk. then a year later my friends dad decided to send us to england as a way to keep us from hitchhiking to new york to follow a he hocked a bunch of stuff, my mom signed guardianship to him, and away we went. we had been badasses on the street in san francisco so we felt we could take care of ourselves in london. we had heard about a guy named mad jock and told to keep away from him but when i met him he was charming and i thought the rumours had been just that...also i could handle myself. so we went back to his flat - grateful for a place to stay - and the hell began. he tried to get me into the bedroom and i told him i didn't want to so he went in and came back out with a machete. he pushed me into the bedroom...he made me tell him i wanted to have sex with him. he held the machete to my throat and pushed open my legs with his legs...i wasn't even wet..he spit on his hand and rubbed his penis with it and just jammed it into me...i blanked out...i tried not to see his face above mine - eyes gleaming like a madman..i turned my head and stared at the door...i felt sooo humiliated when he pushed my legs up to my shoulders - i still can't have sex in that position - he would shove me into the living room when he was done and brag to his friends about "fucking the american bitch"...he made me suck his dick - it smelled. he would put his hands on my head and force me to take him deeper until i gagged and he would laugh. he would run the machete down my body, between my legs, across my throat. he and his friends never touched my friend because she of was japanese descent and they were prejudiced - they kept joking amongst themselves that her slit ran sideways...he would force me to take baths standing up and scrub myself...if i didn't do a good enough job he would do it all the while yelling at me for being a "dirty american whore"...i remember dried blood on the rag when i clean my vaginal area. finally one night after he tore up my passport and took my friends he made me take a bath then shoved me into the living room, my towel fell off..his friend was there..he tossed me clothes - no bra or panties - made me get dressed right there..they began sniffing glue he offered some to me but i was already feeling so sick i said no and he said he'd have something better for me to huff in a while..i was gonna vomit so i tried to get into the bathroom but i knocked into his arm and that pissed him off so he slammed me back down onto the couch, leaned over me and bit my cheek. it hurt so much..his eyes were murderous..i remember seeing him pulling his face away...smiling with my blood on his lips..i knew that he would never let me go...i had already lost track of how long we'd been there..days. he gave our passports to his neighbor and told her to watch us while they went downstairs to the pub...we left all our stuff and crawled on hands and knees to pass her flat, ran to the tube, we had no money, we jumped the train and took it to trafalger square and ran to the first bobby we saw. i was sooo scared jock would find us...the cop took us to the police station where we spent the night going over our story with some very kind detectives (thank you!) they sent some officers to retrieve our stuff...jock said everything had been consensual and that the bite was from rough sex but i wanted it...the cops knew differently by looking at my beaten body. apparently jock had done this before but no one would press charges - well i decided not to either because at that time in england the accused got to choose his level of court meaning he could be free for a long time before his trial. i did not have the mental strength to deal with that - i feared for my life. i called my mom from the embassy to arrange for her to help us pay for passage home (he had stolen all our money) but she said.."you got what you deserved (she didn't know about the rape-i tried to tell her but she said "i don't wanna hear what happened - you got yourself into trouble now get out") friends mom managed to come up with the money and as soon as we got to the states our friendship deteriorated so i moved back home...during the 2 years on the streets i'd been violently raped twice and forced into sex many other times because i knew it was easier to say yes than to say no... at 17 i was having horrid nightmares and was sucking my thumb again...i once more tried to tell my mom what happened and she looked at me and said, "i don't want to hear it - i can't deal with it" i thought "you bitch!! if you can't deal with it how am i supposed to live with it?" i got heavier into drugs to try to into an abusive relationship that centered around drugs...i'm pretty sure i got pregnant by him cuz i missed my period for a few months then had a horrid one...i never stopped doing drugs during that time though...our relationship ended after it had escalated to us doing crack and him beating me when we'd come down one night i caught him in bed with his ex was enough to make me get sober. unfortunately my mental age was all of 14 even though i was 18 and i met my first husband when i was only 5 months sober. sexually i felt frigid - full of fear and i put him off for 4 months when we finally had sex i got pregnant the first time. i went into denial and he figured out i was pregnant before i would admit it to myself...i was scared so i went along with his family's pressure and married beautiful daughter was born 6 weeks early but healthy...he could not be found in the hospital when they were wheeling me into surgery (i had to have c-section)...the mental abuse by him started right after we married..he told me i looked like a cow, i was fat, nobody would want me but him, that i looked like my car (a vw beetle), but of course he still wanted sex even though it hurt me. after my 1st daughter was born i tried to get out of sex...but he pressured me constantly and reminded me that he was the only one who would want me. when my older daughter was only 9 months old i got pregnant again - he was very pissed at me and blamed me-wouldn't talk to me and made me sleep on the couch. he was passive aggressive and just like my mom - knew my weaknesses and mentally manipulated me. i took the abuse until my youngest daughter was 14 months then he had moved us 3 hours away from his family and 4 hours away from mine. he was cheating on me and lying to me all the time..while still telling me how worthless i was, what a horrible mother i was, and how no one would want me.i would wake up at night with him over me..ready to thrust his penis in me-this brought back horrible flashes of jock and the fat man-I would freak out and he would yell at me that I was his wife and it was my duty….he would push my legs apart and do his thing…I just laid there. I finally had the strength to move out...i began an obsessive relationship with a man who was separated from his wife, had just had a child with his girlfriend and was also fucking me…I felt I deserved nothing better. and went through a horrible divorce during which several times my soon to be ex brought over his 44-magnum - just to "show me" the 8 1/2 years since we've been divorced i've done therapy on and off...had a nervous breakdown, relapsed into drug addiction and alcoholism, attempted suicide twice, was finally diagnosed with manic depression/bipolar and got on meds...during which time i met my current husband and he has been a godsend. he has stuck by through thick and thin and together we had a beautiful daughter who is now 5 years old. i've been working in therapy on the incest and sexual abuse/rape as well as parental betrayal...trying to get to the point where i want to be healthy - physically and mentally - and where i love myself and believe that i deserve good things in life.

untitled by k*

i don't have a complete account of much. this is what i know, and maybe later, i can tell it all. there are some words that i still cannot say/ write, and then a shame of saying this at all as if i am complaining that what happened to me is so bad, well, i know what it is compared to what i've read. but this is my story. when i was thirteen, there was a boy. why should i protect him from anything? his name was Brad. i hate that name. even looking at it makes me sick. all of october of 1996, he would follow me around, and feel me up. up my skirt mostly, and sometimes he'd get in my underwear before i could pull away. and he'd always laugh. so i'd always laugh. a joke. nothing fits together right. there were some other guys in my 8th grade class that were mean too. 2 boys once pulled me into the bathroom yelling that they were going to rape me and pulling me into a stall while i was screaming and fighting back. one of those boys pushed me to the ground and said he was going to rape me, and no one did anything. i just remember he didn't. i don't remember why. there was a lot of face pushing. into their pants. saying hey baby, why don't you give me head or something like that. i don't remember. some of this happened when i was 12, most, though, when i was 13. the neck is not a very strong muscle on me at least. they'd shove my head into their pants, over and over again. all a joke. threatening to rape me. a joke that i've almost forgotten. forcing my hands places. my hands are so bad. i want to cut them off. the piano's saving them. they're so evil and bad i think sometimes. brad. he took money from me. i don't know, 5$? and made me promise to give him a _ job for it back. i said no no no no no no i don't wanna brad, just give it back, and he said no, you gotta. no one else fusses as much as you. what the hell is wrong with you? i wanted my money back, so i said, fine, i will, not really meaning it, thinking he'd forget. i got my money back. he made me promise him 2 more times think. the next day. he said all day long, when are you gonna? when? and i said, brad, i am not doing that, you know it. and after school, he kept asking. and i said no! so me and my friend adam went into the hills. and brad followed. and he kept saying why won;t you? everyone else does it. why not you? and he looked down my shirt, and was every where on me. and his arms were around me. like a backwards hug, but i couldn't leave it. i said no brad no, and he said, oh yesssss. and adam was still there to save me, adam was..... adam left me there with him, and rode his bike away and left me there. and brad kept touching me everywhere, and his zipper was going down. i can't hear it. i just hear him talking so lowly in my right ear right between my ear and my shoulder. and it was touching me everywhere, he was rubbing himself on me, and i said no brad, please i don't wanna touch you, and he made me he made me..... and adam came back and suddenly remembered me. and brad was touching me. and adam suddenly remembered me. i just remember the dirt ground. and i walked up to where i was before, and went to the bathroom, and wanted my hot water, but there was only cold. i remember thinking, is this what all those other girls went through? and i thought so. i told my friend that i did it. my best friend that i did it willingly. and she told the principal of the school. the principal asked me if at any point i could have left. i said yes, in the beginning before he had his arms around me. and she said it was my fault then. tell your mother, we're gonna punish you. i didn't tell my mother. she found out when the principal told her that i was a bad girl. bad girl..... and my mother..... why are you yelling at me so? it's not my fault. i couldn't leave. all those kids told me how could you blame him? it's all your fault. you slut. you whore. you dirty lying bitch.

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