I am now 38yrs old. I am Canadian. I am married to my high school sweetheart, who is my best friend. We have 2 boys. One 19, has just followed his fathers footsteps and joined the military. The other is 13. I have a wonderful life…. But I have a secret only my husband knows. When I was 13yrs old, 6wks after loosing my beloved grandfather to a heart attack and feeling very sad. I took a walk to the corner store. I lived in Montreal, Quebec. I didn’t see the man. I barely remember seeing the car parked but it was there. I was walking with my head down, listening to my walkman, with my hair covering my face. I felt an arm grab me from behind. I was pushed into a car from the driver seat, all the way over. I didn’t have time to think or fight or scream. He shoved my head down and started driving. He had a small knife. The car smelled like stale air, sweat and cigarettes. We drove for a long time. Eventually we stopped in an underground parking garage. He pushed the seat back into a reclining position and climbed on top of me. He pulled down his pants and tore off my panties. I was wearing a dress which he pulled up. He tried to penetrate me. He pushed against me but he couldn’t. He got angry, he pulled my hair, he punched me, he called me a whore. I was a child. I had never even had my first kiss. I had no idea what he expected me to do. He shoved his penis in my face, he smelled awful. It was disgusting and he wouldn’t get hard. I had vomit coming up in my throat. I can still taste it, I can still remember that smell. It will never leave me. He finally turned me over and sodomized me with a beer bottle that was on the back seat. I remember the pain, it was unimaginable. He was so rough. I remember thinking, this is how I will die. I will bleed to death. I must be bleeding to death, it hurt so much. My brain went numb, I left my body and after awhile it ended. He threw the bottle onto the seat. I looked up and saw it was covered in blood and feces. I was thoroughly sickened. I was never so ashamed. He tied his pants, opened the passenger door and shoved me out. I used my underwear to blot the blood flow. I called my friend. I was too ashamed to call my parents. I was 2 towns away and had no way to get home. My friend came. I told him I was kidnapped but not that I was raped. I told the police the same, he had grabbed me then let me go. The officer knew I was lying but I wouldn’t agree to be examined, and wouldn’t tell the truth. My parents didn’t believe me. They thought I’d gone off and made up a story about being attacked. I’ve never told them the truth. I told my husband when we were 19, shortly after we were married and I began to heal then. It will always be with me. I will always be afraid to walk alone at night. I still have nightmares though not as often. I know it wasn’t my fault. I volunteer with sex abuse victims but I don’t share my story with them. I still hate to talk about it. I don’t want people to see me as damaged or weak. I think without my husband I wouldn’t have survived. Thank you for sharing your story. And giving me the courage to share mine for the first time without shame.