Do you remember your “first time”? That special moment you shared with someone who loved you. Did you feel safe? Comfortable? Was it his first time too? Did it come natural to you, or was it as awkward as people say it can be? These are all questions I will never get to answer. Questions I will never know the answers to.
I remember my first time. I think about it everyday. Not in the nostalgic kind of way, but more of a nightmare. I wish I could look back on my childhood and smile. But I just wish I could forget it all. The pain, the confusion, the guilt. Yes guilt. So much guilt.
The first sexual encounter I had happened when I was 9 years old. I had no idea what people were capable of, and I had no idea how much it would haunt me. It is hard to say the words out loud, or to even type them. My name is Nicole, and I was raped.
Can you remember the first friend you ever had? I can. Her name was chandler, and she was my favorite person on the planet. We told secrets, made up secret languages and played till the sun went down. She had two loving parents and an older brother, who I had the biggest crush on. His name was Michael. He was tall and slender. Pitch black hair, ice blue eyes, and the friendliest smile.
They say that you can trust your friends, but can you trust their family? He was supposed to be kind. Responsible for us. The babysitter. But he was anything but.
He was supposed to take me home. I just wanted to go home.
It was getting late. Almost time for him to walk me home like he always did on the days I took the bus home to chandlers house with her. He suggested that we all play one more game of hide and seek before I had to go. They had a really big back yard with an array of different places to hide. He closed his eyes and started counting
Me and chandler took off in different directions. She ran into the house to hide and I ran towards the toy shed. It was really dark in there so I didn’t think he would be able to find me so easily. Was he peaking?
I could hear him walking outside the shed doors. I held my breath so he wouldn’t hear me. The door began to creek open and he called my name “Nicole? I know your in here” I remained silent. I couldn’t lose this easily. He walked into the shed and closed the door behind him.
“There you are, I knew you were here” he sounded so strange. I started to walk towards the door. He reached out and stopped me. “Let’s just sit for a while, see how long it takes chandler to figure out I’m not looking” I had no choice but to stay in there with him.
He sat me down against the wall and placed himself between me and the doorway. There was one small window letting in the little light that was left in the sky. That’s when the nightmare began…
He sat in front of me and placed his hand on my thigh. I tried to move away but his grip was firm. There was no escaping this. His once friendly smile turned into a menacing grin. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be scared of him, but in this moment I was terrified.
His hand moved up my leg to my waist, his other hand was holding me in place. I tried to move away from him but his grip only grew tighter and tighter until I began to cry. He was on top of me now with a hand over my mouth to stifle my cries. His hand moved under my clothes. I tried to tell him to stop but he wouldn’t listen to my stifles cries.
I could feel his hands inside my body. Violating me. Touching me. He started to undo his belt on top of me. I tried to get out from under him while he was fumbling with his belt but that only made him mad. He grabbed me by the jaw and squeezed until the pain made me open my mouth. He forced himself inside my mouth.I was choking. I couldn’t breathe.
Why is this happening to me? Why Michael? Please stop. He was inside me now. I still remember the pain. So much blood. It was all over my clothes. How could I go home like this? How could he do this to me? I couldn’t stop crying. He told me to shut the fuck up, and struck me. I remember in that moment, was the first time I wanted to die. That feeling has followed me for the rest of my life.
Once he decided it was over. He dressed himself. Then threw my clothes at me so I could put them on. Covered in blood and tears I dressed myself while I sobbed. He watched me smiling. That smile that I used to find endearing. Now made me sick. He began walking to the door. But before he opened it he turned to me, grabbed me by my hair and said ” no one can know about this, or your whole family will die. You hear me slut?” What does that word mean? I didn’t know. Now I do. “You’re broken now.”
I couldn’t tell you how long I was in that shed. It feels like a lifetime was spent there. Because when I finally was able to leave. I was dead.