I am a survivor, multiple times over.
The first time was 10 years ago. It took me until last year to be able to speak about it. I felt it was my fault.
I was in an abusive on again, off again relationship. We were off at the time, and I met this guy (Brandon) on MySpace.
I was barely 18 and naive and really, really hurt. My ex had been cheating on me. My mom had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer. I was a mess.
He messaged me out of the blue, saying he was looking for friends in the area. I was clear with him about not wanting any form of a sexual relationship…I didn’t feel comfortable with anything but friends. He laughed it off, saying he had a girlfriend and wasn’t “that type of guy.”
The first time I saw him, I was drunk. He decided to play the role of the good guy, telling my friends he’d make sure I made it home safe. He drove me to his house instead, saying I could crash there. He took me to his bedroom, turned on a movie (Failure to Launch…I remember it,and to this day can’t watch it) , and started trying to kiss and grope me. I pushed him away, telling him I wasn’t interested and thought we were just friends. He said he wanted to get to know me better, and that I needed to stop being so uptight. He gave me some sob story about how his long distance girlfriend broke up with him, so he needed comfort. He tried to guilt me, telling me I should return the favor since he was being a good guy and I was drunk.
Luckily for me, his brother came home. He heard us talking, heard me say no and came into the room. I told him i was tired and just wanted to go home. He took me home, and i told Brandon i never wanted to see or speak to him again.
Fast forward a month or so.
My ex was attending a party at the apartment above my best friend’s. He brought the girl he had been cheating on me with.
I got crazy, blackout drunk. Apparently, I started crying and telling my friend that I thought I would be alone forever.
Somewhere along the line, she took it upon herself to grab my phone.
She found Brandon somehow…she says he called while she was holding the phone…I think that’s too much of a coincidence.
Either way, she convinced him to come “see me” and told him I wanted to be alone with him. I remember NONE of this.
Next thing I remember, I’m in Brandon’s truck. All I can smell is the chewing tobacco he has in his pocket, mixed with the dip he has in his mouth.
I black out.
I hear his pants unzip.
I black out.
I wake up to his penis down my throat. I couldn’t stop him. He had my hands pinned. I was gagging and crying and shaking my head no.
He has a piercing.
It gouges the back of my throat.
I taste blood.
I black out again.
I come to, he’s zipping up his pants. I’m crying and asking why.
He laughs and says, well, I finally got something outta you.
He pushes me out of his truck. Literally pushes me out. It’s at this point I realize we never left my friend’s parking lot.
He speeds off. I try to stand up.
I fall. I violently throw up.
I black out.
When I came to the last time, the sun was coming up. I made my way into my friend’s apartment. I brushed my teeth until I saw blood. I curled up on the couch and cried myself to sleep.
Two weeks later, Brandon’s girlfriend messaged me. She tells me I’m a slut and a homewrecking whore. That Brandon told her everything, that i seduced him.
That I’m lucky she doesn’t kick my ass. She threatens to find me if I ever talk to him again. Little does she know, if I ever saw him, I’d vomit and panic.
I tried to tell her. She called me a liar.
I shrunk inside myself. I heard many times over that oral sex isn’t rape. That it isn’t assault. That it doesn’t count. My friend tells me I’m lucky if wasn’t worse.
I feel like it’s my fault. Over and I’ve again.
To this day, I can’t see the name Brandon without feeling nauseous, and breaking out in a cold sweat.
6 years after him, I ended up choosing another abusive man.
He drank. I didn’t. He would drink until he was wasted, and he’d get mean. If I denied him sex in any form, he’d just hit me and take it anyway. He told me it was my fault because I’m attractive, and since I was his girlfriend, I wasn’t allowed to say no. I was his for the taking, wherever and whenever he wanted.
He got me pregnant. When I was around 12 weeks, he beat me, in the stomach, with my car door, repeatedly, one night when i was picking him up from the strip club he wasn’t supposed to be at.
He screamed in my face as I cried and bled. He threw money at me, saying that was all I wanted anyway since I was just a whore.
I ended up in the hospital, passing blood clots the size of my fist. They called it a threatened miscarriage, because he insisted on going with me to threaten me the entire time. He told me, if I told on him, he’d kill me and my baby. I should have reported. But I was terrified.
I left him. I got out. My baby survived. She is 3 years old now, and my whole world.
I tried to report him when I was 6 months along, because I had gotten past the fear. They told me, without physical evidence, they wouldn’t take my case. They told me, and I quote, to “come back when he leaves bruises.”
There is no support for victims. Not really. This needs to change. NOW.
I have never spoken to Brandon again.
The other man, who shall remain nameless for now, has contacted me once every year or so, to threaten me and demand custody of my baby. He has contacted my family, friends, and current boyfriend. Death threats, harassing phone calls. I block him, he finds a way.
Every time he calls, I feel like I’m being raped again. The police won’t do anything.
So I move on.
I am medicated and in therapy for PTSD. It is possible to move on.
Just know you’re not alone.
People like me are here.
— Survivor, age 28