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Colored Hair and Diamond Tattoo

Where do I begin. This is not my story anymore. It’s hers. Or not. It’s mine.

Twenty years ago I was 13 years old. 13 years but looked like 10 years. I was already in a difficult situation when I met him. My mother had cancer and I was terrified that she would die. So when he appeared as an unexpected listeners so I was grateful. He was almost 30 years old and my tennis coach. Imagine the gratitude I could had for him today if he had not ruined everything.


He was told everything! Everything I shared with me. About my mom, about bullies at school and that I didn’t felt at home anywhere.

He offered me a job as a cleaner in a factory. Respect of which the 13-year-old does not want to make money in as simple a manner as to wash and scrub!

And that was where he raped me the first time.

I thought it was a nightmare and that if I did not say anything, it would not happen again. Everything would be as usual. I remember he mumbled that he loved me and that I should be grateful that he taught me how to do it.

When I look at the photos from that time are shocked me how small I was. Just a little kid.

Since it went on like this for two years.

On an adult’s sexual terms and conditions. Sometimes he asked me. Sometimes, I escaped but was forced to shoot my tenneis friends in the locker room with a hidden camera instead. And he was always worried that I would get caught there because all the tracks would lead to him. Twice he forced me to have anal sex. It was in terrible pain and I thought I would pass out.

I was 14 years old. I was his slave. Sometimes he called me for that too. One night phoned an old friend of mine. She said straight out that she knew what he was doing. Her former stepfather was a pedophile and had abused her when she was little. The friend was the first person he saw to disappeared from me.” The next time he calls you throw up the handset. He can not pull you out to the car in front of your parents.” She said. She had not dared say anything before. She was as old as me.
And I refused to meet him. He became furious and angry but I stood my ground. Though I was terrified.

I reported him to the police and there began to Hell number two.

The first time I was at the police interrogation as I meet two women, one of which blocked the eyes of me and said: Now is the best for you that you are telling the truth! You have police reported a man for rape and he can go to jail if you sit here and lie!

I had before asked for a lawyer with me but I did not. The interrogation lasted three hours and I told everything to the police. Afterwards, I was exhausted and they left me. A month later, I received a letter from the prosecutor that they closed the case. I was alone and did not know my rights that I could request that they could open it again.

I tried to kill myself a few years later and had turned 19 years old. After that I got a therapist and started going to meetings for raped girls. I was angry. Angry at the world, angry at him that destroyed so much.

The therapy went well and I even moved to a new city. For seven years I went into therapy. Seven years of sweat and tears and getting back to myself. Or that I was not. Without mourn her that I could have gotten. I got involved in crisis shelters for raped girls. Talked and supported. Began to lead self-help groups.

And one day, I met my current husband. I had turned 25 years and I remember so well when I saw him for the first time. He had the kindest eyes I have seen and proved to be just as nice. For three weeks I lied about what I did when I was in the emergency shelter and worked. And then he was told. He supports me in everything. We moved to the other end of the country after we had been together a year. I needed a break from work at crisis shelters for raped girls and started studying psychology. That same year we moved, I was ready in therapy. I got pregnant and we had a son. The pregnancy was horrible and many memories came up from the rapes. My husband supported me all the time. I studied for a year and then I was offered a job at an emergency shelter for victims of crime. It suited me very well and now I am working on a court and supporting victims and witnesses.

A year ago, I felt that I did not want to work on emergency shelter for victims anymore but still with people so I searched for a school of psychotherapy. And was accepted! So now I’m working on the court and is studying to become a therapist. I’m so proud that I have taken all the way here where I am today. I asked my therapist once if she thinks I work with this to heal myself. She said the most beautiful words I heard, I probably would have worked in this area anyway, but the trip had not been as fierce.

My tennis coach was reported to the police by other girls. I can not try again. And now it has been for many years by law. He is a free man today who live with a new name in a city far from here.

I will never forgive him for what he did to me. He stole my childhood and teenage years and it should not forgive. However, I have forgiven myself for putting so much guilt and shame on myself. This is now where it belongs.



  • Alissa Ackerman
  • Therese


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