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My Father’s Funeral

After a long illness, my Father passed away, and I flew into his funeral.
My bags were stolen out of the airport. I only had my bags, and the clothes I was traveling in. I had to go to the mall and get some appropriate outfit the morning before the service. Fortunately, I had my cards.
I called for a taxi, and waited in the taxi stop, and got picked up by a talkative driver, and I gave the whole timeline, before I realized he pulled into a garage. It was an abandoned building, and I figured what was going down.
He spent over an hour raping me there, took my purse, though I talked him into letting me keep the outfit for the funeral, in trade promised not to report it.
I walked out, with no idea where I was, nor had my phone or cards. I had to walk to a Gas Convenience store to have them find and call my Sister to come get me.
I told her what happened, but not my Mother. I didn’t keep it from the Police for the promise, I had no idea where they were, and I was too emotionally drained.
I went through the funeral with it all kept in, and the occasional tears being passed off. I decided I was fine with it, until I went to a party, where I was fixed up. When he went for more than a kiss, I freaked, badly. I apologized to him, and my friend blamed my Father’s passing, but I told her I was raped, and she confirmed to the guy it wasn’t Him, it was my Father’s funeral.
I went to a Group, but I still keep it to myself, in general, but I promised another friend who was recently raped, that I would share, and she suggested here.
Warm Love, Brave Miss World.

— Dana

1 comment

  • Alexis

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