This boy named Jorge started flirting with me when we got in the same class the 1st semester of my junior year in high school. Heíd hit me in the hallways and hold my waist to move me aside in the line. Heís the clown of the class and he did this with a lot of girls in school. I thought nothing of it! I even *liked* getting a guy's attention. Iíve never even had a real boyfriend. But long story short, on a Monday last December (2004), there was an early release day due to Parent/Teacher conference and I had to walk a mile to my house. While I was walking, Jorge pulled up in his truck and asked if I wanted a ride to where I was going. I accepted because mostly I was freezing cold. While I was in his truck he offered me a blunt (weed) and I took a few puffs off it. Then I think that's when he put his hand on my thigh and I pushed it away 'cause it was just weird and he's not my type. So we got to my house. I live in the basement so I went in that way. A few minutes later when I got my coat off and stuff, Jorge knocked on the basement door, he asked for his lighter. I accidentally kept it in my pocket when we were smoking. I turned my back for one second to get it and I was rushed to my floor. I started fighting him. I know Iím not strong but I *can* fight. He wasn't holding back neither, he got me good in my stomach and face. I was on my back so I couldn't get him like I wanted. I remember he told me "be cool, bit*h, be cool" among other things. I hate myself because I couldn't hold out longer. If only I could have! I knew what was about to happen. How stupid could I be to let it?! Jorge told me to close my eyes and don't look at him. I did, I turned my head and stared at the legs of my couch. After he violated me and robbed me of my virginity, I told him to get the out and if he spoke of this to anyone Iíd go to the police. I didn't want anyone to find out about this! Although I know my rights and I know I should have told someone I was afraid to be labeled a sl*t. Something I didnít want to be looked at as. I know Iím wrong for that now and my views have changed. I was molested before all this by a man who I was suppose to trust... this is the first time Iím even trying to recount the events of that afternoon. And I don't want to EVER think of it again. I just want to get on with my life.
by February on 3 Feb 2005
Firstly, I want to thank everyone who has submitted stories.. I'm 16 and up until now thought I was alone.
When I was 2, my dad died and when I started school my mum got a new boyfriend. Shayne. When he first moved in me and my brother, he was just awesome. He took us everywhere, movies, the beach, stuff my mum never had time for. Anyway, I remember the day 'it' started. I, he & my older brother were watching some cartoon like beauty & the best or something and I felt his hand feeling my thigh. I didnít think much of it but then he started to get in between my legs. Thatís when I started to feel uneasy. That was the last of it, for that night anyway. It went on and on for months until one day, when I was about 7 I told him I was bored, so he told me to go to his room. It was a hot day and I was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He told me to lie down on his bed. I already started to feel weird, but I still can't work out why I listened to him. He slowly took his clothes off and lay down next to me. I can still feel the way my chest tightened and my breathing quickened. He told me to touch ďitĒ but I wouldnít. He told me to 'be a good girl' and 'mummy would be proud.' So I did it. He showed me what to do. He started making funny noises while I looked out the window, determined not to cry. Then he made me stop, and told me to take off my clothes. I wanted it to be over so I did as I was told. Then he lay me back down and stood over me. He told me I would never forget this dayÖ. He was right. Then he entered me. The pain was indescribable. The feeling of fear and betrayalÖ wondering what I had done wrong never go away. This continued until I was 14 and included a lot more. Then on October 17th 2002 he killed himself in our bathroom. Somehow, I still believe it was my fault. My mum has never been the same. She hardly gets out of bed. My brother and I don't talk. Maybe it's the shame? I don't know but I don't know how much more I can take. I feel dirty, disgusting; I don't deserve to be loved. In fact I'm sure it's true. My heart goes out to all of you.
by br0ken_wingson 3 Feb 2005
The summer after 8th grade I was at a party with some friends, I decided to leave and go find my friend who didnít showed up. I gave up on finding her and I sat on the ledge of my uncleís fence. A kid I knew came up to me, we would talk every now an then but I knew something was wrong. There are these bushes behind my uncleís house where we set up a club (they were sort of like trees) so we went back there to talk. He hit me and when I woke up he was on top of me and I didnít know what to do. After he got off me he left and went home. I didnít tell no one what happened because I knew that no one would believe me and to this day no one knows except the people he told. I am in 9th grade right now and going through a lot not knowing if itís been to long to tell some one.....
I canít say this anywhere else, because I am afraid to talk to my best friend anymore because I donít want to hurt her and Iím scared that she might not believe me.
by brittanyon 1 Feb 2005
It mostly started in the sixth grade. Three important things happened at the beginning of that year: I moved to a new school, my parents acquired a new adult ďfamily friendĒ, and I was diagnosed with a number of serious mental illnesses including OCD, ADHD, manic depression, severe panic disorder, schizophrenia, emetophobia, and anorexia nervosa.
My school life was terrible. I was labeled ďinsaneĒ by the students and teachers. My friends left me until my only acquaintances were the quiet, soft-spoken computer teacher and the shady Spanish teacher who was later arrested for a number of sex crimes against the students. I spent lunch alone in the Spanish teacherís classroom with him. I was emotionally and physically abused by my peers that year and ended up attempting suicide a few months before my twelfth birthday.
Strangely, though, there are giant chunks of that year that I canít remember, as though they were wiped from my mind completely. After that, I was terrified of males and of any physical contact with them. My therapist thinks that something must have happened, perhaps involving my Spanish teacher, that was traumatizing enough that my mind thought that it had to erase it in order to protect itself.
At the beginning of seventh grade was when my parentsí good friend began to reveal his true colors. It began innocently enough: he would ďwrestleĒ with me and tickle me every night, but his hands always seemed to end up in the wrong places. I convinced myself that it was accidental, but one night he managed to get one hand up my shirt and the other down my underwear. I was frightened, but still tried to think of it all as an innocent accident that could happen to anyone.
As I grew older, he began to sit me in his lap and hug me, although most of the time his hands were in all the wrong places. One time he was on holiday with our family and I woke up to find him lying in bed beside me with the fly of his jimjams open and his penis hanging out. That same vacation was when he tried to put his hand down the front of my bathing suit. I hit him and told him that he was making me uncomfortable. He denied doing anything wrong and acted as though he was offended that I would accuse him of such. I became even more unsure as to whether or not his actions were truly accidental and began avoiding him almost religiously.
He still does things like that once in a while, but I am afraid of telling anyone in case it IS an accident, and because I donít want to create more trouble for my parents on top of my mental problems.
Last year, I was involved in an abusive friendship (I am still unable to be in a romantic relationship). It was emotionally destructive, more so because of what happened in the sixth grade. The friend encouraged me to kill myself, manipulated my feelings, constantly insulted me, and told me that I didnít ďhave the right to be depressedĒ because I was too ďattractive to have real problems.Ē There were other things that she did to me that I cant write here, but whenever I tried to go against her she would threaten to hurt me or even to kill me and blackmail me with her knowledge of my experiences in the sixth grade.
Since this I have attempted suicide multiple times and been hospitalized for self injury, depression, and schizophrenia.
Everything is spiraling downhill so fast that I need someplace to let go. Last night I saw the man who sexually molested and may have raped me. His wife was there so he couldnít do anything, but just from the way that he looked at me and the tone in which he spoke I knew that he was still thinking that way. He would lightly touch my shoulder or the small of my back when his wife was occupied with her laptop and brush our knees together when he sat close to me on the floor. Every time he moved or inhaled the sound seemed deafening in my ears. I caught a whiff of his putrid breath as his face moved close to mine and became dizzy, gagging. I almost had a flashback--I wish to God that I had. Maybe then I would know whether it was he or my teacher who raped me, or if I was even raped at all. But I feel so unclean in every meaning of the word just thinking about what he used to do--what he may do still in the future.
I canít cause my friends any more pain. My best friend is so burdened by this....She told me to tell her, so I did. I just didnít realize how overwhelming what she thought would be a problem as insignificant as a crush or a failed grade would be to her. I am also manic depressive and have psychotic tendencies, so last night I started freaking out over just one comment of hers that was probably meant casually. Iím scared that she thinks that I am making all this up. She thinks that I am saying that I was abused for attention. As though I donít value her friendship more than that!! I could never tell my parents about the sexual molestation because I already know that they would never believe me...they know the person who did it very well. He is a close family friend.
They would not believe my word over his. Does that mean that I should just let him keep doing this?!
I am terrified of being in a romantic relationship, but at the same time I long to be in one. I canít keep turning down people I love over and over again--not when I want to be with them so much. I donít like to lie. I canít even be in a friendship anymore--my last friend was so horribly emotionally and verbally abusive of me that I am extremely paranoid and untrustworthy of all my friends. I think that is the cause of most of my problems with my best friend. I canít accept that she MAY actually be loyal to me. My experiences with friendship have all been so---bad. Even before my abusive friend I was abandoned by all of my friends in sixth grade and daily beaten by people I didnít even know. One girl cut off my ponytail when she was sitting behind me in class. Since then I have never let my hair has never grown past my shoulders. I had death threats both in sixth grade and last year from that abusive friend.
What am I? What is it about me that makes me a target for these people? What did I do wrong? Do I dress too provocatively? Is that why adults think they can molest and rape me?
I hate myself so much. I canít look in the mirror anymore. I am so disgusting and filthy.... what did I do wrong? Is it my fault?
I am so scared about the regression to sixth grade that my shrink is doing. I donít want to remember, but at the same time I HAVE to know who the rapist was, and if there even was one. But all of my symptoms and the evidence says that yes, I was rapedóIím scared of guys, of relationships, of my body, of others' bodies, I cant put tampons in without going into hysterics, I get nauseous and dizzy thinking about these things....I was anorexic in sixth grade, the year that I think I was raped. I also have insomnia and depression and pretty bad mood swings with constant nausea and headaches.
I wonder if it was the family friend who has already molested me. But it could be the teacher--he was arrested for sex crimes, after all....If it was the teacher, I wonder who the other person he raped was? What if it was me, and what if my parents do know but they just donít want to tell me?
by Roson 1 Feb 2005
I have read all the stories on the pages here and I'm still scared to write this down. I was 12 years old when it happened. I was walking down the street in my "SAFE NEIGHBORHOOD". I was coming from my friend Cassie's house. I heard footsteps behind me so I turned around and no one was there. So I kept walking and then I heard footsteps again, so I turned around......there he was. I turned back around to run and there was another guy. I turned to my right and there was another. I was surrounded. I just feel to the ground crying. They picked me up and dragged me into the trees on the side of the rode. I couldn't see what they looked like because they had been wearing black ski masks. The first guy yelled at me to take off my clothes and I couldn't. Then I saw the knife that had been in his pocket. I saw the light from the moon shine on it. So I did what he said. He ripped my skirt off and threw it to the ground. My skin stiffened from the shock of air on my body. He pushed me to the ground as his friends watched. He made me do oral on him. Then he told me to stand up and he shoved me up against a tree. He stuck he fingers in me. I could feel the filth of it all. When he was finished I thought that they would let me go. But he said "Your TURN" to his friend and thatís when I knew that they weren't gonna let me go until they were done. They all had their turns with me. When they were done the first guy walked up to me and kissed me a soft little kissed and said "YOU WERE GOOD!" I will never forget that. They got into there car and blasted GUNS 'N' ROSES. I just sat there trying to put it all together. I grabbed me shirt and skirt off the ground and walked home. Everyone was asleep by now so I turned on a shower I stayed in it for 4 hours and I still felt so DIRTY. The next morning I couldn't remember anything. That was until I heard a GUNS 'N' ROSES song on the radio that it all came back to. I told my mother about it 6 months later. She didn't believe me. She said that I was making it up for attention. After that I started to cut and I got into drugs. I know that someday I will get over this but my healing will take awhile. I still can't go to sleep without checking under my bed afraid that they will be there. Thank you for listening.
by Once a Volleyball playeron 30 Jan 2005
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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.