It seems surreal to be putting my nightmare into sentences. It almost feels that words can’t sum up how I feel.
He was my ex. We were both 16, in high school and finishing exams. He said he respected the fact I didn’t want to have sex.
Throughout our relationship he would do things I didn’t want to e.g touching, fingering. He would convince me that it was fine as we weren’t having sex, it was ok because he was doing it for me, it didn’t matter that it hurt, or that I felt uncomfortable because he loved me.
I eventually broke up with him because I always secretly knew it wasn’t right.
I remained friends with him during the remaining school year. Exams had finally finished and our friends had arranged a party on the beach to celebrate. He asked if I wanted to hang out at his house before we went to the beach, as I could get ready at his, and I would be able to meet his older sister. He could sense I was hesitant, and he even joked that he promised that it wasn’t to get me into bed. I felt reassured and a bit silly that I even doubted him. So I agreed.
Everything was going well, watching tv and chatting when he lent over to kiss me. I kissed him, because I still did have feelings for him. I guess he took that as a green light as he started touching me. I felt myself slowly sinking back into the shadow I had when we were dating, when I would block out what he was doing. I pushed him off and said that I was going to start getting ready for the party. I thought this would make it clear I didn’t want it to go any further.
So I went into his room and got my clothes unaware that he had followed me in until I heard him shut the door behind him. He walked up to me, scooped me into his arms and starting kissing me again. I felt a conflict as I wanted to kiss him, but I worried he would push for sex as he had previously done.
He started to remove my clothes, I didn’t want to admit that I knew were this was going, so I went along with it, convincing myself that I was still in control of the situation. Again he started touching me, and the shadow started creeping back. I just laid there as I knew fighting him wouldn’t stop it, I had tried fighting before but my efforts never made a difference.
He then asked me for sex. I said no. But he asked me again, this time grabbing my arms. I said no again, he kept asking me, shaking me, holding tighter onto me, he said he wasn’t taking no as an answer. I knew his history of hitting his mum, and I was scared he would hurt me.
He kept shaking and asking me until I gave in.
He put me on the bed and raped me.
I cried as I could barely breathe from the pain. After he hurt me, I went numb. I lost myself in that moment, I lost my identity. I could of been anyone laying on that bed. How could someone who ‘loved’ me do this?
He said he was sorry for being physically rough and hurting me.
I felt nothing.
I went to the party an empty shell.
I still feel empty and am so ashamed with myself for being so naive and weak.
I am seeking professional help. It’s been 5 years and I am finally understanding that it was not my fault.
Rape is more than a statistic.
Rape is more than a culture.
Rape is more than a crime.
It is people, and their experiences.
— Survivor, age 21