People may wonder why a degrading sex session affected me so much. Well it was because I was only fourteen years of age and I was locked in a cold, puny room with this perverted animal having sex with me against my will knowing that no matter how much I scream and shout no-one can hear me and no-one could come to my rescue. I couldn’t possibly fight him off either he seemed so much stronger than me and his determination out-weighed mine, I tried to push him off but after about a minute of torturing myself by failing I decided just to lie in my excruciating pain just praying to a God that I knew didn’t exist for it all to end.
When it did end he pretended that it never happened, it was bleeding and petrified and he was quite happy just to walk away telling me I had five minutes to sort myself out before I had to start work again. So I did, I didn’t know what else to do, I went to the toilet cleaned myself up, vomited and felt worthless, lonely and confused.
From then on until the present day, here and now, I still feel that way because I don’t know how to get over this, how do you talk to someone about something like this? Since being raped I have had at least three suicide attempts only one of which anyone knows about, the first one caused me needing to be kept in hospital much to the disappointment
and disbelief of my family who don’t care about or believe a single word that comes out of my mouth, because I am obviously twisted enough to lie about something as serious as rape. But if that is the case at least they should know who I got it from.
However, being raped opened my eyes to the world around me, made me realise what evil really exists in this place we call home. I don’t trust anyone now, I can’t even trust myself because in my head is this constant, repetitive drone of “You lead him on. You made him think you were interested. You flirted with him.” although I know it isn’t true an even if it wasn’t he didn’t have a right to do what he did, I was fourteen and no matter what he did, even the six months of the abuse prior to the rape when he was touching me, kissing me, nibbling me, talking dirty to me, all of that was illegal, and I can’t understand why I didn’t leave because of that, it took an offence like rape to make me leave. Yet another thing I can’t forgive myself for.
My philosophy is normally to look on the bright side of life, but I have had extreme difficulty trying to find a bright side of this. The only thing I have is the fact that it was only once and that it was me rather than someone else. I would like to think of myself as a strong person because I have had many problems with my parents in the past, that has therefore made me a stronger person emotionally. If he had done it to someone who wasn’t used to being hurt that it would have actually killed them, I know how close I was to killing myself.
I haven’t told many people because when it comes down to it he still has a business to run and he is loved by many people and for some reason I can’t ruin that. He has friends, I don’t. People probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. They wouldn’t find the filthy jokes he makes or slyly touching his staff as he walks past relevant.
Too add to my confusion there was a brief time when I thought I was in love with him, that terrified me. Being in love with that bastard would have probably ended me, I couldn’t have taken anymore pain than what I was in. I did have feelings for him that weren’t hate though.
I was neglected quite severely by my father when he developed a new life without me, he left me behind with a mother who spent all of her time out of the house having an affair with a married man, it was my big sister who looked after me. I felt like my parents hated me and didn’t want to spend time with me anymore.
I think I went to my rapist as a father figure, someone to look up to, someone to take care of me because my home life was a shambles. Unfortunately, he was the only person who showed me any attention, even if what he did was inappropriate. Even though I knew what he was doing was wrong I let him because sometimes he just held me, hugged me and told me I was beautiful and I really needed that. No-one had ever said anything like that to me before, no-one had ever made me feel wanted the way he did in those six months I was there near him.
Here and Now however, I feel I am much better, still no-one know except my very few close friends and my boyfriend, people who I feel actually need to know and understand why I sometimes go weird and drift off back to that little cold room where he raped me, there will always be a small part of my locked in that room with him forever. I don’t know exactly how to let that part of me out, that part might be my virginity, something which can never be returned.
I told people who noticed the scars all the way up my arms from me getting angry about what happened. Cutting myself repetitively because I blame myself and need some form of release. Bleeding out some of my pain.
I told my boyfriend because I sometimes can’t sleep and have really bad nightmares. Many times have I had a bad nightmare and he had to hold me down to control me, I kick him and hit him until I finally wake up and realise whats going on. He then has to hold me constantly until I go to sleep again.
The only thing I can say now is life goes on, I know that I will never be truly happy again until the day when that evil violation of my body is gone out of my head forever. I don’t how long it will take but when it does go, then I will be able to lead a normal life.
