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 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.

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?

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 me...it 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.