More Than Once

I just finished watching this beautiful film. For the first time in 37 years I don’t feel alone and I do have a voice, and what happened to me matters. It changed who I was suppose to be. I have never told anyone that I was raped twice in two years by the same psychotic people, for fear of blame on me. A notorious biker gang in ontario canada. I had come to know them through my boyfriend at the time, by attending a wedding with him. A very deranged much older man forced me to dance with him, leading to my boyfriends jealous drunken rage. This biker said he was going to marry me one day, he was obviously crazy. I was forced to leave with the bikers. I was taken to someone’s house and forced to strip, wear someone’s high heeled boots, dance and then be raped. It was so degrading, humiliating and frightening. This biker had his friend with him, and they both had their way with me. I never told a soul. I was only 15.

At the age of 17, I was in a bar with a different boyfriend at the time, and the bikers were there. When I went to the bathroom, I recognized the one. And he remembered me. From that moment on, we were prisoners of the bar. I was not allowed to go to the ladies room without him or one of the other bikers keeping an eye on me. My boyfriend and I were told that we were going to a party at their clubhouse. And we were not to leave until they were ready. We tried to sneak out, and were stopped. It was like a cat and mouse game. We arrived at the clubhouse. I went to washroom to gather my thoughts on how we were going to get out of this. When I came out, everyone was gone. Only the two men who had raped me two years before, were in the room with the large pool table. It was the strangest sensation, where did everyone go. This can’t be good. I was forcefully put on the pool table, he pulled my pants down and I was raped again. I felt terrified and started crying. I stayed very quiet, other than the sobs they could clearly hear. I didn’t fight or protest in any other way, for fear of my life, because I knew how dangerous they were. Then his friend did it to me also. After it was over, I was driven to a highway. I got out and walked home on this busy highway, looking very lost, and dead inside, and no one stopped.

I told my mother who didn’t know how to help me. I stayed with my best friend for a few days. We could not go to the police for fear of them hurting my family. It was never reported. This man stalked me after this, my parents had to send me away to an Indian reservation to keep me safe. This trauma has affected me. It wasn’t until 15 years ago that I developed PTSD and had to leave the work force from having anxiety and panic attacks, along with depression. At one point I had 15 ect treatments, which took some of my memory away from me, and that I now regret having, but at that time I must have needed it and didn’t care. I am angr y that they got away with this, and that they don’t know what they did to my life and how it changed me. I have since forgiven them, because I had to. I’ve worked thru it, or learned to live with it. I just want to say thank you for allowing me to have a voice. I guess I am brave now, because I’ve just told my truth. Thank you for that.

— Survivor, age 52