The thing that hurts the most about being raped is watching other people snuggle up, praise, hug, speak about or play music with my rapist.
I was fifteen. I had just turned 15. There is a disconnect that happened to me, like my soul shattered and it's still missing so many pieces that I have been trying to put back together since then. That is 30 years of missing my own self. Sometimes it's gone, the pain, the hurt, the betrayal, but it always reappears, especially when I'm looking at cute animal pictures and chatting with friends or family on FB and suddenly there he is, so many mutual friends, 90+ me and my rapist. I try to forgive. I've had dreams of shaking his hand, of allowing him to walk me to my car on a dark scary night, but something inside still freezes when I open myself up to actually feeling the truth of that night. Here I am again, crying, all alone, hiding from my family so they don't see I am not who I pretend to be. This strong, mother, wife and warrior is weak, scared, hurt and fifteen forever thanks to my rapist. Becky and her family were out of town. Becky told me where the key would be. I asked my neighbor to buy me alcohol. He did with the cash I gave him. Neighbor was kind enough to even give me a ride to Becky's house. “Her parents are coming home? You guys are being safe?” Sure. I drank the 6-pack before anyone else arrived. Ben, Tony and Dawit made it, and I found Becky's dad's vodka and drank that too. What did I weigh, 100 lbs? I wasn't worried because I was with my best friends. When Billy and Matt arrived, I was already falling down, breaking things. I hated Matt. He tried to grab me and kiss me and begged me to have sex with him a couple weeks prior to the assault, at my parents house, when Jenny and Billy were doing "it" in my parent's bedroom. I fought him off, for an entire hour, he was relentless, trying to pin my arms, and hold me down but I was strong and sober then. This time I wasn't. I don't remember much thanks to my inebriated state, but Dawit and Tony cried and apologized to me later. It wasn't their fault. They weren't rapists. They knew what happened. They were younger than me, not in HS yet, it was the summer before they were going to be freshmen. Matt was a football player at Nevada Union, he was about to be a sophomore. He was strong. He told them, “It's okay,” and then he picked me up and carried me into Becky's bedroom and placed me on the bed. I was barely coherent, everything was fuzzy, I probably had alcohol poisoning, I was unable to manipulate my arms, my mouth, nothing came out. The boys were scared. They didn't do anything. They told me they were sorry the next time I saw them at Western Gateway Park. They said they were scared, and they should have fought him to protect me. They had tears in their eyes. I was still in shock, probably some rape victim PTSD. I pretended I was alright. I was ashamed, I felt responsible for being raped. Jenny came barging in, the first time Matt had me in the room, passed out, wasted. I remember feeling relieved. I was still barely semi conscious. Matt had only managed to unbutton my jeans and barely had them half-way pulled down at that point. She kicked Matt out, and moved me into Tyler's room, Becky's older brother's room. She locked the door from the inside, behind her. Matt and Billy left, they had a long walk home, to Lake Wildwood. Jenny thought she had averted an imminent disaster, went upstairs and passed out in Becky’s parent’s bed. Matt came back sometime in the night. He broke in through Tyler's window. He took my pants off, ripped me open, and I bled everywhere. My vagina was a bloody mess for weeks. I woke up in screaming pain, but I was still too drunk to fight him, like I did when he was trying to physically over power me at my house a few weeks earlier. I gave up, I had no fight, I was so wasted, I drank myself helpless. I just wanted it to be over, for him to finish. He hurt me so much, from the lack of lubrication. It was absolutely degrading, disgusting beyond anything I had ever experienced in my life. Just the though of him repulsed me, even before he raped me. He finally got off on the dead girl lay, and he left. I passed out again. I passed out from the pain, or the shame. When I woke up he was gone. I had only had sex 2 times before being raped. Both times were with a great friend and we used a condom. I told, Pauline, Matt’s girlfriend the next time I saw her. “Why would he rape you? We have sex all the time.” She didn't believe me. I told my next boyfriend, Mike, and he ended up moving in with Matt, the rapist, for junior college in Chico, right out of high school. That's how much Mike cared. How many girls did he rape there, at your house, Mike? Turning a blind eye makes you guilty. Bob, my ex, told Jenny the truth, against my wishes. We cried together and I came clean to her 6 years later. Bob punched Matt when we saw him at a party. Jerry, Matt's friend, ran up and tried to interfere. Roy explained the circumstances, and held Jerry back, he said the beating needed to happen. Roy always had my back. I love that man like a brother. "It was over 5 years ago, get over it!" Jerry yelled at me. I'm sure Jerry would feel the same way if it was his twin sister, who was raped. We'd all just "get over it" together. More and more people know. I am slowing opening up about it because my Godchildren are the age I was, when I was raped. I'm terrified they'll be ignorant, like I was. Alcohol should be taken more seriously. I'm trying so desperately to heal. I still hurt. I'm still a sorry sack of shit from something that happened so long ago, but every day I'm stronger. I'm smarter and I no longer feel that it's something I should be ashamed of. He's the rapist. But I'm no victim. I was for a long time, but the more I speak out, the less likely he can do it to someone else. 2019. Written after shocking Sunshine outside a bar. I said "I fucking hate Matt," without explanation. I hurt her, I could see it in her eyes, by the violence of my words. This was an attempt to remedy our last in person conversation. Jake was there too, outside at the bar formerly Wileys, then Coopers, no idea what it is now. He was also surprised by my verbal bile. I wrote him a FB apology which received no reply. He doesn't seem like he'd be on team rapist. He probably never read it.
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