So this is a bit difficult but I need to be able to express myself and doing that with my family hasn’t been helpful because they don’t understand my pain and what I went through. When I was 13 Years old I was followed grabbed forcibly and thrown into an abandoned staircase of a project building in the Bronx (NY). There I screamed, I fought, I tried my best to get away but it was like the more I struggled the more violent he got. It got so bad to a point where he took my head and banged it on a pipe I then became weak and he took advantage of me.
That changed my life drastically! I hated myself. I didn’t have the support of anyone. I then became depressed and began cutting myself because that was the only thing that helped with the pain. I ended up stopping because my godmother had came from out of state and took me under her care, I then got the support I needed. I did report to the police but later on got scared because the person that attacked me I knew him and his friends. When his friends became aware that I pressed charges they began to follow me and threaten me with weapons. So I didn’t go to court anything. I still see him & I just freeze with my heart stopping still afraid that he might do something .
Now I am 17 years old, and sad to say that I have been raped again. Wanting to end my life still trying to figure out why this happened to me again. This time I was babysitting a neighbors daughters, and the roommate had came home drunk. So I helped him sit on the couch. He then began to touch me in my areas and I told him to stop that he’s crazy. I felt uncomfortable and all he said was just one time. I stepped back and told him no but he still went for it. He forced me down on the couch with his forearm on my throat and telling me if I moved he was gonna press harder. I was scared to death all I wanted to do was die, having flash backs of everything I went through the first time kills me.
I have no one to relate in this house or I feel like anymore but here I have been seeing other stories and decided to write mine. Hope it wasn’t any bother.
— Rosa, age 17