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Middle School

When I am really honest with myself, I have been sexually assaulted multiple times by 4 different men. It took me a long time to finally accept that two of the four men actually did assault me.

I am a 20 year old college student who just happens to have a vagina instead of a penis. If I had different anatomy my story wouldn’t be on your screen, but that is a complaint for a different day.

I was first sexually assaulted by a relative when I was just eleven years old. I hadn’t even had my first period yet. I didn’t know it at the time, I didn’t know he was raping me. I didn’t even know what sex was until several years later (THANKS religious parents).

I doubt the relative… my rapist, had any idea that he was raping me. He was young too. I have excused his behavior because we were both too young to really know what was happening. Of course, when I did find out what sex was and I realized I was officially a “whore” because I was no longer a virgin, and later found out that sex with a relative is “disgusting.” I viewed myself as a disgusting whore.

I was so mad at him. I was mad at myself. But above all, I was mad at my parents. They don’t know it happened, and that is what makes me the angriest. It happened right under their noses. Either they saw signs and ignored it, or they just didn’t pay enough attention to me or worst of all, they knew and did nothing.

That idea, that is the one that keeps me up some nights.

Of course I still see this relative often. No, it was not my dad. I still see this relative and I still have to interact with him. I see the shame on his face and I know he feels guilty. So I forgive him. I let it go most days.

I’m not saying what he did didn’t f**k me up. Because trust me, having your own brother rape you f**ks you up. But after years of hating him and myself for it, I have decided to heal. But it still makes me sick.

That rape isn’t the worst though. The worst and most terrifying experience was when I was nearly raped. Well technically it was still rape but it wasn’t my definition of rape. I would classify this as sexual assault and violent acts with the intention to rape.

The day was December 20, 2011.

It was cold and miserable and I was miserable. I was 15. I had decided I had reclaimed my virginity and I fell in love with a senior at my high school and on December 19, 2011, early in the morning, I decided to give my newly reclaimed virginity to a man I swore I’d marry. It went great. I trusted him and it was amazing. We went our separate ways and he stopped talking to me and told me he didn’t really like me like I liked him, so I was devastated of course. I go to school on December 20th with a broken heart and a very sore everything.

The 19th and 20th of December that year just happened to be the last two days of the semester. So literally no one at school gave a f**k who showed up and what they did, so long as they were marked there and showed up for lunch at 11 a.m.

So there I was around 8:30, sitting in the school’s woodworking shop. I was an honor roll student and a member of FFA. I was allowed to be in the shop with another highly trusted individual, a member of FFA and it just so happens this guy was an ex from middle school.

He saw that I was upset, I was crying big ugly sobbing tears. He had always been mean to me but that morning he was there to comfort me and to offer advice. He offered a hug, which I took because I just needed a hug. That’s when it all began. The cycle of Decembers that feel like they’ll never end started right then.

His hug was nice, I pulled away and he wouldn’t let me. He had a hold on me and I couldn’t pull away. I asked him to let go and instead, he gripped me tighter and smashed his face into my face and started kissing me. I was in shock. I froze and then he started rubbing his erection against me. I tried to get away but I wasn’t strong enough. And I tried to yell for help, but he shoved me against a table saw and said he’d turn it on if I didn’t shut up. I stopped yelling immediately.

He told me to pull out his penis. I did. I pulled out that disgusting penis and he gripped my hand hard, so hard it felt like it broke or nearly broke and then he forced my hand to touch it.

That’s when I started having a panic attack. Hyperventilating and crying and shaking and getting physically ill. He then shoved his hands into my pants and brutally fingered me. I was so sore from the previous day that it hurt tremendously. I begged him to stop. He yanked his hand away from my private area and realized he had blood on his hand from me. He became even angrier at me. He told me I was disgusting and that I should have told him I was on my period and I told him I wasn’t on my period but that he had hurt me. He grinned at that. He laughed as he dragged me into the storage closet of the shop and said these words that I will never forget….”Oh you don’t know hurt yet, princess.”

I begged him again to please let go of me. To which he responded to slapping my face with the hand that was covered in my blood. Then he tore down my pants and his and tried to get his penis inside of me. I kept trying to get him to stop.

And then he stopped.

Not because of me begging. But because the shop doors opened and another student came in to tell us it was 11 a.m. Lunch time. The student saw the guy fixing his pants and I’m sure he saw me crumpled up on the cold, dirty concrete floor with blood on my face and my pants around my ankle. But he didn’t say anything. I waited for them to leave before I got up and pulled my pants up.

I spent lunch time puking in the girls’ bathroom, using paper towels and soap, scrubbing every inch of my body. That night I went home and tried to kill myself. I never went to the police. His family was wealthy and very prominent in the community and I knew it would have been swept under the rug. Also I didn’t want to get my favorite teachers in trouble. And I didn’t want my parents to know about it. So I said nothing.

A couple of weeks later he texted me, he got my number from some mutual friends. He said, “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.” Now the f**ker is married.

— Survivor, age 20

1 comment

  • Alissa Ackerman

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