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My Story

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter” – Martin Luther King I don’t really know where to start, but I know that I am ready. Ready to finally have a voice. Ready to finally get this burden off of my chest and release it in to a world where it will be amongst millions of stories. Finally, my story will be out there and finally, my words will matter to someone, somewhere who needs that tiny speck of courage to speak up. This is my story. My story starts freshman year. 9th grade. Year 10. I didn’t know much about you, I had never really spoke to you. You was just one face amongst many others in that school. We shared one class together. I will always remember walking in to that science classroom to see your face. Your eyes on me. Having to sit next to you… Continue reading »

Males can be victims too

I’m a male in the north east of England. It’s difficult to talk about but I was raped. I’ve waited over 3 years to finally admit that to myself. Since I am a male, many people dismissed me. The first person I told was my sister who helped me get into contact with the police but they wouldn’t assist me, simply exclaiming males cannot be raped. That means the person (I’ll refer to her as Kayleigh) still has served no justice to this day. It makes me feel angry and alone most days. I try and put it behind me as much as I can but it’s difficult. I was 14 at the time and she was 19 going on 20. I tried the best I could to stop it but I was much younger and we were at Leeds University at the time, a place I was unfamiliar with, so I couldn’t reach out… Continue reading »

More Witness than I Care to Live with

My name is Katherine, and my sex ed started when I went to a playground after a softball game. I was 9, and a man joined me. He intimidated me into masturbating him. I only had my mother and 2 sisters with my father out of the house, so I had no knowledge of male physiology. After the surprise ending, he gave me a box of cookies. I knew what I did was dirty, but didn’t know how to articulate it. In junior high, I was invited to a friend’s party. During the party, I got lost looking for the bathroom, and opened a bedroom door, where another friend was pinned on the bed by an older boy. She was repeating the stop, let me go, no, etc without stop, as was he continuing. I was in shock, and almost peed myself! no one every teaches you what to do if you see this, and… Continue reading »

Scar

When I was 14 years old a complete stranger sexually assaulted me by touching me inappropriately I was devasted. I am afraid of every man I hate myself I am paranoid that this is going to happen to someone I know. I am anxious all the time. When I was 17 a classmate did something similar to me when I was 18 an old guy in a bus touched me inappropriately again. Every time I think about the first time something like that happened to me It’s like it’s happening all over again I know that my story is nothing serious compared to others in this site but 4 years later I think about it more than ever everyday it’s like flashbacks. — Survivor, age 18

I now know

When I was 6 I went over to my grandmother’s house and her neighbors kid was over as well. He was 16. He saw me and took me to the room to ‘play’. He sat me on the bed and asked if we wanted to ‘kiss’ I didn’t know what that was so I stayed silent. Then he just started kissing me all over and feeling me up then he started kissing me on the mouth and I just froze. But I thought it was fine. I didn’t know about that this was assault until now. Which has helped me to be more aware and careful thankfully. This is for the new and soon to be parents to tell their kids where you can and can’t be touched. Thank you brave miss world for giving me the courage to share my story.

PART 5: My True, Horrid, and Concluded Story of Abuse

“Now I’ve gone for too long, living like I’m not alive, so I’m going to start over tonight…” —Hayley Williams. In the fourteen years of my life, I have found out what it means to love, to lose, to be abandoned, to hate, to love again, and to lose again. I have found out what it means to be lost and to be found, only to be lost again. In the fourteen years of my life I can honestly say that I have experienced true heartache, but with the help of my family—my true family—I have found out what it means to be happy. In the fourteen years of my life, I have learned to not let go; I learned to hold on to happiness tightly and to not let it go because it may never come back. I have learned that love is immortal, and it will exist for years to come. I have… Continue reading »

PART 4: My True, Horrid, and Concluded Story of Abuse

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: /Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer /The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, /Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, /And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; /No more; and, by a sleep to say we end /The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks /That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation /Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep; /To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.” —William Shakespeare . When being relocated, I lost so much in my life. I lost my bed that had provided me with comfort even in my most uncomfortable moods. I lost my bedroom, which was where I took refuge in my darkest hours. I lost the familiarity of my bathroom. I lost the people who would honestly make me feel more at home outside of my own house: my friends…. Continue reading »

PART 3: My True, Horrid, and Concluded Story of Abuse

“I’ve never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart. ” —Yann Martel. I woke on October eighth atop of a brown couch in my aunt’s house. Text messages blew up my phone from previous friends: “ Hey when r u comin bck 2 school?”, “I miss u mucho, you better be comin bck soon!”, “Promise that u r comin bck 2 school tomorrow!” Hoping I would, I promised I would be back at school soon. Of course I wanted to go back to school; I had it all: amazing friends, good grades, and sports…. Continue reading »

PART 2: My True, Horrid, and Concluded Story of Abuse

“Behind every beautiful thing, there’s some kind of pain.” —Bob Dylan. Every story has a climax–the part in which the protagonist has to overcome an obstacle they face. To simply put things into perspective, my obstacle was my father. Reaching the middle of my twelfth year, life was great. It was summer outside, and every day my brother and I would enjoy the refreshing summer breeze. With no recent confrontation between parents, life could be described, honestly, as perfect. But as quickly as all beautiful things in my life begin, this simple paradise came crashing down just as fast. *** It is a beautiful August morning, and I am sitting on a tan couch in the back room of my house. Vince is sitting on a couch in the living room watching television. I have no idea where my father is, and just like her mother, Nevaeh is sleeping. I am ambitiously deciding to create… Continue reading »

PART 1: My True, Horrid, and Concluded Story of Abuse

“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”—Mitch Albom. Being born second eldest, with my father’s child (my half sister) being born a few years before I, has left me with a sense of guardianship over my younger brother. Lydia, the eldest of us three, was born when my father was in the teen years of his life. Many years ago, I might have even called her my sister, but now I have no idea who or where she is. Vince, my younger brother, is my motivation; he is constantly there pushing me through barriers I thought I would never conquer. I was born when my father was breaking the dawn of his twenties, after he “fell in love” with a woman named Victoria. But when being realistic,… Continue reading »