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Raped At 16, 29, 31

I was a child, an intelligent one. I grew up in Melbourne, Australia. When my aikido assistant instructor invited me to study at his home before my holiday tuition commenced at Melbourne uni that morning, I did not know that he had other things in mind. I was raped in his bedroom. Believing that he then owned me, and being afraid of my conservative parents, I continued to be raped by him for another 5-6 months. He had gloated that I was sweet 16. He had said that his friend had checked and that it was not illegal. He had laughed that he dreamed that my father would bring a group of karate people to his home to chop him. He remains protected to this day.

Living dead, I continued.

I achieved and achieved and remained silent, dead inside, trying to survive. Trying to hide.

No one ever really knew me. I was claimed as their asset and repeatedly stabbed in the back. HOW could I even know myself?

Raped again at 29 by my equally high flying German boyfriend I shut down, knowing what had been taken. My soul shattered.

Raped again at 31 then deliberately and systematically tortured. Claims that I was suicidal when I was not, then abused time and time again. Stalked. Assaulted. Violated. Time and time again. Many people over and over again. Intimidated and threatened into silence. Trapped and tortured. Made to look like a psychiatric issue. Labeled. Relabeled. Forced to read aloud other people’s violating wrongful words about me – wrongfully labelled my rapist’s EX-SPOUSE – where I’ve never been married. Stalked. Over and over again. Wild animals waiting for the living dead to die while whitewashing their stain on society. Mid 2010 – Present.

1 comment

  • Alissa Ackerman


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