Alright...this is my second story on here. I know I told everyone my first story, about my date rape or whatever. But I have a new one. 2 months ago I was at a party with my cousin. She told me that there would be alcohol...but I wasn't gunna drink so it didn't matter. Well, when we got there, I was kinda worried about not knowing anyone. I sat on the couch and waited for my cousin to decide she wanted to go home. After a while, I got up to go to the bathroom. When I was opening the door, this guy comes charging in. He saw me, and decided to close the door and lock it. I tried to get out, and he told me that if I tried again, he'd kill me. I told him to get away from me...and he pushed me down. The bathroom wasn't that big, so I hit my head on the side of the bathtub. I started bleeding, so he took a towel and put it under my head...pretty considerate, huh? considering about 5 seconds later, he raped me. When he was done with me, he told me not to tell anyone, and kicked me. Then he got up and unlocked the door, and left. I laid there for a second, stunned and still bleeding. My cousin came in and saw me. She called her mom and they took me to the hospital. Me and another girl turned the boy in for rape. We took him to court and he's in jail for 15 years for 2 counts of rape. Its really hard for me to get over, especially since its my second rape in 1 year. I get to spend my first week-long holiday from school in a mental institution. if anyone has anything that they want to say, or anything to ask, they can e-mail me at email@example.com
by Malloryon 23 Sep 2004
Last year I was taken by a man I thought I knew but didn't. He had pulled up in a limo on the beach and the guys inside were sort of cute, they looked important and I thought "this is fun, but I will follow them instead of going in the limo". They drove around the beach, didn't stop and went right back to where we had met. I thought nothing of it. We got in. The alcohol was flowing and one of the girls wanted to go home. For some reason I wanted to start dancing, I was intoxicated. Maybe drunk, I don't know. Things are fuzzy, hard to remember. They were standing in a circle, I was next to a guy that had a shirt "hard co*k cafe north shore", and it had a rooster. Thatís all I remember. Then I woke up in the morning with that guy in the limo. I was alone with him. My car was gone. He told me he had caught one of the guys trying to take my pants off and that was why my buttons were ripped off. The sun was hot. I felt sore everywhere, and stupid. He started to kiss me and I let him. I hated it but I put up with it to get home and find my car. He finally took me home. My car was there. He followed me inside. I asked him to leave. One week later, I saw him again. In that week: I got in a fight with my male roommate, I got in a fight with my mother, I ended up homeless, and I was sleeping in my car on the beach. Thatís where I saw him again. I climbed a tree. I hung there acting weird. I don't know why. I was hyper, and I was agitated. Then I asked him what happened again. He told me again that he had caught a guy taking my pants off, that nothing had happened and that he stopped and kept me safe. He told me he was homeless too. Skipping from beach to beach waking up with the sun and moving on, surfing when he got the urge. I loved the idea. I went for it. Decided it was more important to surf than to find a home for myself. I was smoking a lot of pot. I was around new people I didn't know. The next thing I knew I was asking my dad for money again. I got a hotel room. The guy stayed with me. We would sit there looking through the paper and he would always have an excuse of why it wasn't the right place. And we kept doing what we were doing. A week and a half went by. I was scared and I wanted a home. So I asked my dad for money again. He offered and I put a down payment on a room the guy and I could share. I now only talked to my friends over the phone and less and less every day. I moved into the room, the guy sat me down told us he was just released from prison and that he knew some of the people this guy I was with knew. I was mortified. I wanted to leave. I went outside started to argue with the guy and he kept moving my things in. I don't know why. He didn't understand. My dad had money for me and I didn't need to be here. He wouldn't stop emptying my car. He threw my skateboard at me and told me to get lost. Leave. I started to skate. I skated down the hill. The second time I tried to shoot it, I crashed. Not an ordinary crash mind you. He didn't come to my aid. The ambulance came, and blood was everywhere. My face, ribs, hand, foot and elbow were crushed. A plastic surgeon was called in. He reconstructed my face. I didn't have insurance. I hadn't worked in over a year. I didn't have anything. They said my cousin was on the phone. There was something wrong with my thought processes because I didn't think it was weird that I had a cousin calling, not my mother, my father, a friend, I hadn't seen any of my cousins in years. They lived over 2,000 miles across the sea. It was the new roommate. Iím sending the lady (his "wife") over. Why, I didn't care, I didn't understand. Where was I? I was hyper again. I was asking where the guy was. He wasn't there because they wouldn't let him. The doctor said these words that haunt me: "if anyone sees you right now in the condition that you are in, how bad you look, they will not be able to handle it, they will never forget. Until Iím finished no one can see you." those words stand as a testimony for what was to be in the following months. The person that was there to take me "home" was the guy. Someone I didn't know, the hospital didn't call my emergency contact even though they had one, my mother. She was minutes away and I wouldn't see her for another month. He told them to let me go with him, I had no insurance and he would take care of me. It sounded weird that he would do that, but I went with it, I felt strange that my mother wasn't there, where was she. He was outside. He was irritated, asking strange questions. They had lost my drivers license. I will take care of it, tomorrow he said. I was wheeled into his bronco and off we went back to that house. The next month is very vague. I remember waking up and not being able to open my eyes. I remember him; he was always there now starring at me. I remember thinking I will be fine. Everything is ok. Then something happened. They wanted us out of their house. He took me to his mother's house. There I heard something in the fog. "Youíd better marry that girl." she said. "Iím going to go get her some sun." the next month if I spent in the back of his bronco. From beach to beach. I couldn't walk, I couldn't walk. I wanted my body back, I wanted to go home but I didn't have one. I was terrified. I didn't want to be around this man. I saw him for who he was, some crazy homeless druggie. I was scared. And I started to argue to him to let me go, take me back, feed me please I can feel my body living off of my body fat, let me go. Let me go. Feed me. I couldn't eat, but I wanted to. My jaw was wired shut and my foot was broken in over 8 separate places. I was helpless. And I needed help. Then the kissing started. He would lick my swollen lips while I was sleeping. He would take the covers off of me and masturbate. He began to be afraid I would go to the police. We were miles away from anyone. He would be touching me and there were parts of the morphine capsules around my mouth. Sometimes I had no idea how long I was "sleeping", where I was, who I was, but always I wondered who he was. I continued to beg to make him take me back to the city. He had learned that I couldn't walk in sand, my foot wasn't solid enough, and did I tell you he had stolen and hidden my cast and crutches, the only way to move was to crawl but it still hurt. Everything hurt. He was rough with me. But he left no marks. He was disgusting. Dirty. Mean. And then he put on a condom, covered my face and had sex with me.
that was when I started dying. I realized I hadn't had any food for 7 nights and 9 days. I screamed to him "I can feel my body living off of my fat. Stop it. Let me go!!!" then one day after a month maybe two, he told me what had happened to me all those months ago. He had ripped my buttons. He had raped me. He drugged me and he did it still on a regular occasion with some sort of drug that makes you have no memory. Well, it was working on a grander scale. I had amnesia when I tried to remember my birthday, I couldn't. I think I even told him I loved him, anything to keep him from mind hurting me. I convinced him we would be together forever. I would never leave and he could have me. But we needed a home and my mother's would do just fine. Like always he said that he had a home. That no one loved me and that's why there was no one around. I was dirty and bad and I needed to be punished in order to be loved. And this was what he thought I needed, to be a homeless woman, to be a prisoner with him, and let him do what ever he wanted. Then one day, I don't know what I said anymore, but then one day, he took me to my motherís; he wanted to leave me there. We fought and he left. She was gone, and these roommates, druggies themselves, called the police, and I was almost arrested for trespassing. But they made me leave. I lived out of the trunk of my car. Walking on my foot for 2 and half weeks. Hoping that no one would see me, hiding. Half wanting him to find me because I knew what he would do to me, I had no idea what all these other ice heads had in mind. Through the whole experience, I had quit drugs, alcohol, anxiety medications, dependencies, sex, love, friends, life; all I had was god and the ocean to love me and to love. And I did. I took strength from that. I asked for help. And I have never trusted another person since. But since then I have held my first job for 1 year, longer than any job in my life, I have begun to rebuild my life with my family. I am strong and able. I am a survivor. And I have my own home, car, and friends that would never hurt me. As for him, he's still running from the cops. He called last, I cried for 2 hours, and wanted to run but I had nowhere to run. My friends made me feel better, but I will never forget. I got raped, kidnapped and beaten in paradise
by changed4everon 22 Sep 2004
just a quick reminder... This page is not a forum/massage board and it is not supposed to be used for anything else other than posting your story. You are very welcome to submit your story here and I admire you for doing so. Just remember that if you need to intereact with other survivors, you'd need to visit our message board at http://www.dancinginthedarkness.com/ipb
by Verenaon 21 Sep 2004
Hello friends I thank the woman who created this page. I have been abused since the age I donít remember, meaning I was neglected since crawling. The first abuse I remember was AROUND seven. This girl called me to give her a hand take a bath and she gave me two pieces of long dry pasta (to do what she wants me to do as cheating) then she took off my short pants then fondelled my penis and ask me to touch her privates, and I did it. The second was when I WAS 10-11 years, a boy took me to a foot ball field and ordered me to give him a blo*job. I tried to say no but he forced me to do it. Both the girl and the boy were my neighbors
by mulugeta sisayon 20 Sep 2004
Hi This is hard for me. My partner is in a mental institution because she would not cut. I am 32 nearly 33 and I have legitamly (forgive my spelling) for the first time. I am the partner of a victim of child sexual abuse and rape and I myself am the victim of a stranger rape. I have just got to the point where I have no-one to talk to and I, in the words of my partner, have now done the cutting on my skin. I do not want her to find out but she will do cause the scars are deep. I need to talk to someone who understands but at the minute I am totally on my own. She would kill me if she found out I have cut but the truth is I would be dead if I hadnt. Take Care all.
by pat on 20 Sep 2004
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This site is offered for support of other survivors, it is not meant to be a substitute for any kind of professional help. I don't have any qualifications or training in therapy, I am by no means a professional. I claim no responsibility for the use of this web site, use of content, or content of any links leading from this site. If you are in a crisis situation I urge you to contact your local rape crisis center or health care professional.