** Graphic ** Survivor Story: The Damage of a Man

** Graphic- Trigger Warning

By: Octavia McNair, Anchorage 

People look at me and they say oh she’s pretty, funny, and she takes care of her kids. Some say oh she think she’s all that. But no one knows the turmoil that I’ve gone through every day just to make it sanely through another day. If only people knew that behind the smiles and jokes there’s a very scarred, hurt, and broken little girl. I think if I deal with all of my issues at one time, and try to live day in and day out, without medication, I probably would have been committed by now.

I guess my life started off on a downward spiral. I was born to a crack addict mother of two, which my grandmother took care of. Lord knows what made her have another, but I guess she figured she didn’t have to raise them so why not.

Now I know I was born for the obvious reasons, I am here. What happened immediately after that is a mystery to me. I’ve heard several tales; one was that my mother had gotten pregnant by someone other than her current boyfriend, who refused to raise another man’s child. So to fix that she left me at the hospital and my aunt JoAnne being my grandmother’s cousin and a foster mother came and got me. The second version was that my mother had me with her when her house was raided for drugs and I was taken into state custody. Then my aunt came and got me. She raised me until I was two or three, when my uncle Tim adopted me, to keep me out of the foster care system. Sometimes I wish I had been left in the foster care system, I might have had a better chance at life.

A new life (yeah right)

My uncle Tim was in the Army and was stationed in Texas. He had a wife and stepsons. There was about a 30 year age gap between my uncle and his wife, her being the eldest. She wasn’t too happy about having me around, and she made sure she let me know it daily. She drank from the time she woke up, until she lay down at night. I was very afraid of her. She waited for my uncle to leave for work, and then she would slap me around and call me names. She sat me on the floor heater; I have a lifelong scar from my thigh to my leg to prove it. She was smart, she made sure I was always dressed and in bed when my uncle got home. All of this, because he didn’t come home. They met a woman named Reba. They would go back and forth to each other’s houses to play cards. She was really nice in the beginning. One day she walked in on one of my uncle’s wife’s torments, she saw her hit me and call my uncle immediately. She told him to do something immediately or she would report him. He let her take me to her house, supposedly until he got his situation straightened out. Unfortunately he still hasn’t him gotten his situation straightened out.

Reba
Reba was a mess. She came off to be this sweet old lady who just helped the needy. She really was robbing the needy. For a few years she treated me like a little Doll dressed me up in dresses with all the frills and the lace. Every day i was dressed for church. I never really had play clothes, because there was no play. I had to go wherever they go. As I got a little older I had to go to the movie parties. At these movie parties they would watch X-rated movies and drink and whatever. I would have to sit with my back to the wall in the same room and I looked at this. But no one knew this Reba. To the public she was so noble savior to everyone in need. She would take on charity projects. She would take food to the sick for a little gas money. She would take him to pay the bills all just for some gas money. I remember one man she used to go run errands for she was taken him for everything he had she would get this check cash this check it them some beer and some weed and take his money and be gone. Sometimes he will call her in the middle of the month begging for something to eat and she would tell him she couldn’t do it without money knowing she had already taken his the rest of this check. I felt bad because then on Sundays she would have to get up and stand up and tell of all these wonderful things she’s done for these people all this week but I know what she’s really been doing. She’s been secretly robbing these people blind live who cares about elderly nobody. Behind closed doors she is a malt liquor drinking shit talking, shit starting, thieving, evil, conniving, and a bitch. I remember she had this one friend and his wife, they were alright friends. We would go over for dinner or barbecue. Close enough to care, I would say. She would let him have his little play dates with her other friend. I used to wonder how do you look this man wife in the face then do this mess. She spoiled for the first couple of yrs. Like a girl with a new doll. She loved to do a lot so she later could tell everybody what she did a lot of. When I started school is when it got rough. By now Tim has lost the army, his wife, and was losing his house. Oh did I mention him and Reba were now having relations. How you like that cup of tea.
Thomas
Tim and his good friend Thomas decided to go into business selling jewelry. With that came him and his 5 kids and wife. They just pulled up in a van and there they were. I felt like they just took over the place. But what could you say. The men would leave on the road to sell jewelry supposedly. So they stayed in and out of town. However the business was going it wasn’t good enough to save his house. His house was repossessed. They tried to play me like a simpleton; they said he was sleeping in the car like I didn’t know they were sleeping together. Let them tell it he got up and came in early. That lie worked until his car got repossessed maybe a month later. Thomas still came in and out usually bringing other people with him. Workers, wives, girlfriends, whomever he had hoodwinked and bamboozled this time. And everybody had to stay at this one house of three bedrooms. He had a different wife every year I think. He had kids everywhere, I think everybody he slept with he got pregnant except me. We’ll get there later. Thomas got a job working offshore, and was able to get Tim a job as well.
Reba
With them being on the road again I started having to go to the military base with Reba everyday when I wasn’t in school. This time she found a guy walking his bike his name was Raymond. I’m thinking she wanted a sexual encounter with him, but found out he was married start giving him odd jobs to do around the house, just to have him around. She thought I didn’t know it but they were getting it in regularly. She gave him money, bought him cigarettes and beer. After a while she started taking him on base to volunteer too. Reba volunteered at a lone closet for military personal and their families in need. Once she started this she stopped spending, and started stealing the lone closet clothes and shoes for me to where. I was so embarrassed at school, all the kids at school had new clothes and shoes and I’m wearing what their mother probably threw away. Reba’s sister Nettie came up from Houston to visit. I really liked her she was the realest woman I know. She going to tell you how she feels about you to your face and not care what you felt about it. She also kept my hair done. Tim had got mad one day because he didn’t like the way I was doing my hair, which was how everybody else was doing their hair. This one morning he just came in the bathroom with nothing but his drawers on as usual, got out the clippers and cut all my hair off so I looked like a boy.
Aunt Nettie I called her, she would give me an s curl. I liked the s curl; I looked more like a girl. The kids at school were so mean and cruel. They would call me bald headed boy, ugly bald headed black girl, blacky, the Hispanics would call me “chocolate” in Spanish. Aunt Nettie also brought some of her grandkids clothes that would fit me; they were more up to date than what came from the loan closet. She was the only person there to take up for me. While she was there we had to help a family friend move. We went did the packing, the cleaning and stuff. My god sister shaniqua was with us. Also there was another one of Reba friends named Alfonzo Mitchell. He also knew the friend we were helping and was lending a hand. Between trips back and forth he stayed at the house with us. Now shaniqua was the only friend that I really had. She spent a lot of time at our house. She also was more experienced than me. I think that’s how she noticed that Mr. Mitchell had gotten a hard on while talking and playing with us. She asked him what it was; he said it was a muscle. He said do you want to touch it and she said yeah. She said that’s a big muscle. It was pretty big coming from a ten year olds perspective. Her silly but said touch Octavia it won’t bite. So I touched it. It was really hard. So we played this game for a bit till the other adults came back. Then Reba asked him to go get something to eat and drink and volunteered us to ride along. This was the first day I got molested. I sat in the middle because I was the smallest. So while driving he pulled out his big muscle, and he made us touch it while he drove. He even jacked off in front of us, ugh. Needless to say he bought us a lot of candy and gave us money I guess to insure our silence. I guess it worked. We told no one. This was the first and last for shaniqua, but it was the beginning of my hell. He found a way to get over at least every other day. Reba being greedy every time he offered to go to the store and get her whatever she wanted he would quickly oblige, and of course she volunteered me to ride along. Now we have went from him making me touch him to him now fingering me, pulling over in parking lots fingering me and jacking off. I still remember him whining, begging, “just touch it please touch it for me just one time touch it”, and I would do it to get him to leave me alone. Later on when I was grown Aunt Nettie said she had a feeling what he was doing, but I didn’t say anything.
One day we went in to the loan closet, we picked up Raymond on the way. We got there opened up as usual I think I fixed the coffee. Reba asked me to go bring some things from the back. So I went to the back, little did I know Raymond followed. Halfway to the back we met at a corner room. He started making small talk like what you doing, you look cute. Then he said can I have a hug, I felt awkward being there alone with him so I said yes. He then kissed me with his tongue. I was kind of scared; I didn’t know what to do. He smiled and took my hand and led me into a closed room. He kissed me harder and longer this time. I think already having being molested my body responded and I got wet, it made me feel like it was my fault. So I just let him do whatever, I mean one man already was. He stuck his finger under my shorts and in me; he smiled when he felt my wetness and said “you like this don’t you?” I didn’t say anything. He told me to lie on the floor; he unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and got on top of me. I don’t remember anything else after that. I had learned to just take myself to another place in my head since Mr. Mitchell started. What I remember next was aunt Nettie opening the door and as soon as I seen her face I started crying, she ran to me, grabbed him punched and hit him then grabbed me and screamed for Reba. I guess because I had let my mind leave, I didn’t realize how much time had passed. They were looking for me, which is how they found me. He jumps up saying it’s not what you think. The military police were called, they took him to jail. I think I may have gone to the hospital, I don’t remember that too well. But I do remember clear as day Reba asked me “did you do anything to entice him?” Really?!!!! That’s all I can remember, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Now I know I could never tell her about Mr. Mitchell. How does an 11yr old entice a grown man? Well needless to say he was indicted, prosecuted and sent to jail. This is when hell really started for me.
Tim
Unfortunately due to my enticing this grown ass man to rape me, my dear old uncle Tim had to come off shore back onshore. I think I inconvenienced him. He wasn’t happy to be back at all. To show it he didn’t speak to me at all, unless he was scolding and yelling, which was more than not. He got more physical then too. If I washed the dishes wrong I got hit up side my head, or a beating. He didn’t give whooping, whooping were on the butt with a regular size belt. He hit back, thighs, legs, shoulders, nothing was off limits. He used one of his biggest real leather belts, which were big because he was real big almost 400lbs. so if the teacher keeps saying I’m talking in class, instead of finding out why, he would just beat my ass for it. Now as an adult I find that I have a learning disability, and adhd. So I was getting my ass beat for how many years for something out of my control. I also became the Cinderella of the house. Whether it was I were eating, doing homework, doing dishes, if he wanted something to drink I had to stop and get it. If he wants a refill 2 minutes later, I better get to it fast and get back with it expeditiously. Always had to fix his plate, and if I am eating and he wants seconds, I will do it and once again be expedited about it. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV, which meant I had time to be cleaning. Go clean the bathroom from top to bottom was the usual order. That also included cleaning the grout in between tiles in shower with a toothbrush; and make sure he can also see his reflection in tiles as well. At this time I am really at zero self esteem. I’m being molested by this old ass man, or I’m being beat for just being. One time I remember getting a whooping for something basic like talking in church, this time I ran. He grabbed me by my hair pulled me back and slung my neck around and knocked my head into the chest of drawer. Now he is beating me like MR on the color purple while my eyebrow cut open bleeding. I had to lie about that too. This man just did not like me. He didn’t agree with the way I talk, the way I walk, I dressed like a slut; I was a selfish bitch, who no one would ever love or like. Sometimes I even thought he hated me for his life being messed up.
Thomas
Thomas came into town again. He was selling t-shirts this time. One day I was at the house alone, which was very rare. Thomas came over, I let him in. I went back to washing dishes. He was making small talk at first, then he came up behind me grabbed me when I turned around he kissed me as Raymond had a year ago. He took me into my bedroom laid on top me, pulled my dress up and pulled my panties to the side with one hand, while he undid his pants with his other hand. He stuck his fingers in me first, fingered me. Then he tried to put his dick inside me but he was having a hard because he was rather small. So he flipped me over, and I felt a burning sensation in my butthole. He was in my butt! I started crying and I remember thinking God why does this keep happening to me. Afterwards I ran to the bathroom cleaned myself, my butt was bleeding. I felt like trash, I felt like a whore. I felt dirty, betrayed, hurt, and broken. I came out of the bathroom, went back to washing dishes. He said did I hurt you, if I did I’m sorry. Then he began to tell me how he loved me and was in love with me, he wish he could runaway with me. I was like in shock. He said please don’t tell anybody, because if I did they would send me away like they had planned to do when Raymond raped me. So now he has my attention. He said the only reason they didn’t send me to foster care is because he paid them. I was speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. But yet I could because that’s what drives those two, that Tim and Reba were driven by money. He had none and she spent her money on everything just to say she have something. So yes I did believe what I was just told. He said he loved me and was looking out for me. I believed him, so now I felt indebted to him.
Reba
Reba loved other people doing. When Thomas was in town she made him buy take out and lotto tickets and beer. When Mr. Mitchell was around she used him for money, playing broke. Then she always was down for me taking a ride with him for some alcohol, tangaray, bull Schlitz malt liquor, and wine. She would damn near slap me down if I said I didn’t want to ride. He done better than Thomas he never left without giving her a couple of dollars, sometimes less, sometimes more. I think she knew. I think she looked the other way for the benefits she got out of it. One Sunday we go to church and looks like they have hired a new drummer, a very cute one. Clarence Ramsey, 36yrs old Light skinned, freckled; tight haircut and he dressed like one of the temptations. I used to love when end of church came, because I would go over to his drum set and flirt with him. Then one day he gave me his beeper number, anytime I was alone I would page him and he would call back and we would talk until someone came home or he had to go to work. Well Ms Reba finds him attractive as well. She found out he played for a gospel group, and became his #1 fan, besides me. But it worked out good because she was chasing him, but I already had him. One day he tells her he about to lose his apartment, if he could borrow some money. Well she said she didn’t have the money but she could rent him a room. What she did she go and do that for?! Before this arrangement he would wait for me to get off the Sunday school bus, I would hide out in the bathroom, then hop in his waiting car right outside the gate. He told me he loved me, told me I was sexy, he gave me money. I thought I loved him! So I gave to him what everybody else had been taking from me. Couldn’t anybody tell me that wasn’t my man. Now she is making sure we were at every one of his gigs. While all these other women were gawking at him, I was who he went home with thanks to Reba 56yr old menopausal hormones. Every night either he was creeping in my room or I was creeping in his. I thought I was in love. One day we all were chilling me, her and him. We sat on the couch watching TV. She started rubbing his chest, he said what you doing? She said what I want to do. The next time she did it he said stop it. She said make me, and then told me to grab his other arm while she was grabbing the other. She rubbed all on his chest and said now what you going to do? He said I guess I can’t do anything, and she continued rubbing his chest. A couple days later we were home alone again. She said Octavia lock the door. So I did as I was told. She said you hold him down over there, while i hold him over here. So I did. She proceeds to lift up his shirt and play with his nipples! Now where they do that at? He said what you doing she said what I want to; I’m giving her a quick course of sex Ed. She then licked his nipple. Hey said are you serious? She said do I look like, I looked, and she looked pretty serious. She then told me to lick the nipple closest to me, while she licked the other. Next I look over and she unzipping his pants! This lady is crazy! She pulled his dick out, like it was nothing. She started jacking him off while we still licked on his nipples. So obviously he came. She let him up to clean himself, told him next time don’t make her have to take it. I’m just dumbfounded at this point. Then she tells me, I bet nobody else can say they taught them that. I concur. The next time she said to him she didn’t think he could handle me and her; she wanted him to prove her wrong. She escorted him to her bedroom told me to come on. She told us to take off our clothes. She had it dark but I could see her taking off her clothes. She got in bed told him to get in the middle. I got in next. She started rubbing him, stroking his dick. He then got up and ate her out. When he finished he came and ate me out. Then he put on a condom and got on top of her and gave her himself until she came. Then he put on another condom and came over got on top of me, stroked me a few times then put it in. I made a few sounds to make her think it was my first time, cause I know if I didn’t she probably would have act a fool. He got started got his groove that we were used to, he came and got up went to clean himself off. I got up put my clothes on went to go wash up. Afterwards he went to his room she came and found me and said “I only did that because I knew you wanted to, don’t tell anybody.” I said nothing. Because in my head I was thinking, no you did this because you wanted him and knew that was the only way you were going to get him. Things weren’t the same, he moved out like the next day. We still fooled around, I would see him at church, and he would give me money for school. We hooked up until I think he moved to another church. He would still come get me sometimes. He got more and more distant. But that didn’t matter id found other things to get into.

Survivor Poem: Untitled **Graphic- Trigger Warning

Graphic** Trigger warning

By: Shreya Sen

They splashed it in the papers
like a tight slap
across my face-
the kind that leaves behind
a funny tickle.
They called it “a brutal rape”-
as if
there are degrees to it.
As if violation can ever be
non “brutal”.
They were trying be nice,
I’m sure.
They wanted to save the little girl.
The damsel in distress.
The hapless victim of circumstance.
They wanted to be the knights in garish armour.
But how can they know?
How can they speak?
They weren’t there when it happened.
The pushing, the pulling, the biting, the scarring,
The tearing, the screaming, the silencing.
They weren’t there when he said
“Shut up before I punch your cunt”
They weren’t there to hear it.
Vagina tearing. Vagina screaming.
They saw an outrage of my modesty.
I saw an outrage of my personhood.
They saw my life in ruins.
I didn’t.
I just felt the ache
Of the roughness of his cheeks on the softness of my face
Of his hands on my breasts
Of his dirty, cum filled dick as it jabbed into me
Here and there.
Again and again.
I just felt the ache
Of my struggle
Of his violation
Of their condemnation
But, they were trying be nice,
I’m sure.
They wanted to save the little girl
They wanted to be the knights in garish armour.
But how can they know?
They weren’t there when it happened.

Survivor Story: Untitled

**This piece could be triggering

Untitled

By: Disconcerted Scribbler

I came home on day from school, and Bob* was there, drinking on the couch. Children’s Aid had come by only a few days before, asking if he had ever touched me. Someone in my family had come out about him touching them, and Children’s Aid was doing a followup. I had said “No, he loves me. Never touched me” and he hadn’t. He never laid a hand on me. A few times in the old apartment I had gotten the belt, but that was quite normal in those days. I was never really worried because he was always drunk, and when he drank he was fun. He never got angry with me when he was drunk. The most risque thing he did was drink and drive with me in the car, which is pretty bad, but not as bad a molesting an 8 year old. I felt safe with him. He wasn’t my dad or anything, but I knew I was safe. The man upstairs on the other hand; he didn’t make me feel safe.

His name was George* and he babysat me a lot when mom and Bob* were at work. He had a niece and two nephews living with him. I remember going to the beach with them one time and him touching me under the water. I still can’t figure out why nobody noticed. When we got back to his house him and I sat on one couch and his nephews and niece sat on the other. He slipped his hand under my bathing suit. We were watching television and she rubbed his fingers into what I called my “cookie”. That was the first time he’d done that. It didn’t feel good, like it does now. It felt strange, foreign, and unpleasant. When I asked his niece later why he did that and she said “It’s okay, it’s normal, he does it to me too”.

From then on, every time he baby sat me he would pull me into the bedroom, or couch, or even in the bathroom and tell me how hot I looked, how dirty I was, how sexy I was and touch me all over. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t act like I enjoyed it. I felt broken. I would just stand there, or lay there, with a blank face. I let him touch me. He never told me not to tell my mother, so I’m not sure why I didn’t.

Looking back I wonder if he wanted me to tell her, to make him stop, I wonder if he enjoyed being attracted to children. I guess in a way I didn’t see the seriousness of the situation. I thought it was normal for adult men to touch me. Except Bob*, he never touched me, and that made me trust him. It made me believe that his love for me was pure. This was the first time my trust was broken. This was the first time I was being shown that people can’t be trusted. Of course, back then, this day meant I was a bad kid. This was the dawning of a new era, the era where I lived up to what he told me while he was thrusting into me.

I walked in the house and asked him why he was home. He grumbled something that sounded like “Fucking kids… stupid fuckers” yadda yadda. I threw my shoe at him and laughed, expecting him to laugh too, we were silly like that. That day, though, I got no reaction. No smile. No death glare of sarcasm. Nothing. So I called him a loser and started walking to my room. We lived in a basement apartment and there were no windows in my room, so even in broad daylight, it was pitch black in my room. I had mirror sliding doors on my closet, which covered an entire wall in my room. I turned on the light and turned on my cassette player. Music of choice? Spice girls. The song playing? 2 Becomes 1. I started singing it, bopping my head back and forth, making my long ponytail swing side to side. I heard thumping coming from behind me and turn around to see Bob* thumping down the hallway. His face was red and filled with thick veins on his forehead and reminded me of Popeye when he got really mad. I backed up and said “Bob* whats wrong?”

He stormed into my room and shut the door. He grabbed me with one hand and turned off the light with the other. He threw me against the glass sliding doors and all I could think was “I can’t see. I can’t see. I have to get to the light. I need to see.” And all that came out was “What did I do?” My neck was hurting from him holding me up by my shoulders, and the seems on the sleeves were cutting into my armpits. I thought I was in for a spanking when he kept grabbing at my pants.

Then he stopped. “Wait.”

He let go of me and I crawled into the fetal position, crying. “What did I do? I’m sorry” I cried. He didn’t say anything as he turned on the light. He looked at me for a few moments and picked me up again. He threw me face forward onto my bed. My bottoms got ripped off and I knew I was in for a good whipping.
But I didn’t get a whipping. He twisted me around and grabbed a hold of my legs. He pulled my legs closer to him and I felt something jab near my “cookie”. I cried out for my mother.
So I asked. Over and over again. “Why? What did I do? Bob* it hurts! Please! Stop!”
“You. You’re just like her. Just a slut. You deserve this”

I felt it enter me. I’m not sure how to describe to you how it felt. I was almost 9, so I was small. It felt as though all of his hate an anger just entered me. It wasn’t like how rape is shown in movies. I didn’t lay there with a blank face, I wasn’t crying, I was screaming. I was trying to hit him. I was flailing around. He was a big man, I felt like a feather trying to fight a tornado. It was sweaty and violent. Sometimes I wished he would have left the lights off. Why did he was to see that? I’ve never been in so much pain in my life… not at that point anyway. I screamed for what seemed to be forever, but was really only 5 minutes. He just kept thrusting. My blankets were thrown everywhere from me trying to flail away from him. Then he grunted, stopped and leaned in close.

“Carla*, listen to me. You deserve this. Stop your whining.”

I continued screaming. Calling out for mom, or the people upstairs, anyone. When he eventually stopped and pulled out, I felt like my inner self was collapsing, physically and mentally. I felt like when he pulled out of me, he was also pulling out my innocence, my purity, and my soul. I started having a panic attack, though back then I didn’t know what that was. I couldn’t breathe. I was dry heaving and shaking uncontrollably.

He left my room in a hurry. I coiled into a little ball, with my feet locked up to my bum, because in my mind, I could stop him from doing it again. He came in and although I tried to keep him away from between my legs, he won and ripped my legs apart. He began to wipe away the blood that had formed in my area, and the blood that had smeared on my legs.

“Now, you shut up about this. Or I’ll do it again. Next time it will hurt more. Stop being a slut. Nothing happened here. Don’t fucking make up stories. Nothing happened here that you didn’t deserve”

He went out to the living room and continued to drink. I realized at that time that my music was still playing. I hadn’t heard any of the songs. I shut my door. Rewound the cassette and started playing it. Turned off the lights. And went to bed.

*Names have been changed.

Survivor Poem: Excerpts

**This piece could be triggering

Excerpts

By: Shreya Sen

The man who said I’d be on T.V
The man who raped my son
The man who dressed me like a school girl
And sometimes like a nun

The man who beat me when I said no
Left me a bloody muck
The man who gently locked the door
And gave me a brutal fuck

The man who killed my childhood
When I was three or four
The man who made me bleed inside
But smiled and whispered “more!”

The man who sold me to the brothel
The man who gave me to his boys
The man who stole my money and my faith
And ravaged me with toys.

The man who went scot free
Abandoned the children and the crime
The man who showed me it’s a man’s world
And left me cleaning the man grime.

Survivor Story: Untitled

**This piece could be triggering

Untitled

By: Anonymous

close your eyes..take a deep breath…clear your mind..feel these word…a little 5yr old girl…long blond hair w/ eyes that change color in the sun..happy..laughing..waiting to celebrate her 6th bday w/ her favorite cousin…it was so cool that they were born on exactly the same day!..finally it was here! cake. presents. incest. What was supposed to be a beautiful beginning to a great yr as being 6 turned into the ugly beginning of the next 7 1/2 yrs..that night that cute little 5yr old girl turned 6..she lost the sparkle in her eye when he touched her breast..she lost the innocence in her smile as he felt her up…the wonder in her heart faded in2 confusion as he went down lower..and lower.. She didn’t know to stop him..she trusted him and she had no idea what was going on..after about 30min he stopped and they fell asleep. a few days passed and when Friday came it was time for the little girl to go to her dad’s..her dad wanted nothing but for his daughter to be happy so he invited her cousin over..so he didnt have to deal w/ her.. everything was ok until it came time to go to bed..she put on her pjs and her cousin did the same..they crawled in2 bed and her dad tucked them in and wished her sweet dreams..ha. sweet dreams. if only she would sleep. her cousin grabbed the remote and turned on the tv in the room for bakground noise. he rolled over and pinned her to the bed. he put his hands on her breasts..and moved them lower..and lower..and lower..he then put his lips on hers and as she clamped down her teeth his snake tongue slithered in. his spit tasted lyk venom..the words he whispered scared her. she wondered how long two people could kiss..it seemed to take hrs b4 he rolled off her. he fell asleep..she stared at the ceiling..confused and hurt.. when morning came she just told herself nothing hapened. but after those days things slowly started to change with her. the same thing happened at least every friday usually more than that for abut 2yrs..if u havent figured out this is my story. if you’ve been ok so far read on..if not i would stop. if you can’t handle this..it just gets worse. when i was 8 and he was 9 he decided that was getting boring so he came up with “better” ways 2 entertain his sick mind. when we would play in the sandbox outside by ourselves in the hot summer heat he would move my bathing suit out of the way and put sand in and on me..and even in the hot summer heat his hands there sent rigid chills right through me. when it was time for lunch we would go inside to ‘eat’. I usually just picked at my food. at our grma’s house it would be resting time then so she would end the 2 of us dwnstrs to watch cartoons for and hr or 2. i would’ve done anything 2 watch tv. i didnt know it then but i gave my 1st handjob when i was 8. he made me squeeze and play w/ him till he cummed. disgusting. it went on lyk thi for another yr and then it got just a lil worse. he used to do anything to hurt me. he’d push my legs so far apart and watch how far i would get. he would put soap, sand, bubblebath..just about anything on me down thr. it hurt. a lot. when i was 9 he fingered me. hard. not a good hard. a painful, scary, rough, tearing, hard. he would hit me when i asked hi, to stop. slap me if i said it hurt. and if i threatened to tell he would just shove his fingers harder and harder. but lyk so many other things..that could only satisfy him for maybe 8months a yr. when i was 10 he would kiss, lick, bite me. my chest no longer interested him. he was concerned with 1 part of me. and that was it. that was all i was good for with him when we wr alone. on a snowday that winter i went to his house, as i did everyday, and he said he wanted to play dr. i hated that game so much. but i’d take anything over the blowjobs i had to start giving him when i was 11. and especially for all the times he raped me from when i was 10 1/2 – 13 1/2. i remeber one night lyk it was yesterday. i was 12, he was 13. we wr at my dad’s house. i had on shorts and a tshirt..it was the middle of summer, july 3rd. it was late when i heard the zippers coming apart. the father the zippers came unglued the more concentration i put on keeping my legs closed. he slid in next to me and asked me if i knew the 3 ways to have sex. i said no. and he proceeded to tell me. he then took off his clothes and took off mine. leaving nothing but my bra. he got on top of me. i used every muscle in my body t keep my thighs pressed together. i knew what was coming. this had happened many times b4. he knocked me around a litttle bit…then in he went. he was inside me and i was wishing i cold be anywhrbut thr. i yearned for the days when he would be all over me but not in me. it hurt so bad. he pushed in farther and farther. i layed thr. waiting for it to be over. i focused my eyes on the clock. just 5hrs until my dad would be getting up. just push through it. it has to end soon. it was about and hr til he pulled out..kissed me..relaxed for about 30min..rolled on2 me again and let himself back in. this pattern went on for hours…and since he didnt get bored with this as easily this pattern happend everytime i would see him.. he raped me about 200 more times(add that to the 2yrs prior 2 that and youd get sumwhr round 900-1200 times) when i finally stopped it. i managed to tear apart a whole family in about an hr but it was over. or at least it wasnt rly happening anymore. the nightmares and flashbacks still haunt me. but i guess its only been about 1 full yr. im 14yrs old and i understand more about fear hopelessness and pain than some adults. i am deeply sry for ne1 who has gone thru anything lyk this. i am sure thr are worse stories than mine. mine is 1 of physical,mental, and sexual abuse, rape, incest. but also of pain, wishing and hopelessness. an i do regret my decision about telling sometimes but thr are many many many times i do not.

Survivor Story: Untitled

**This piece is extremely graphic and could be triggering

Untitled

By: Anonymous

I am at the mall. I am browsing. I am a little nervous because I haven’t been to the mall by myself since the whole “trying to get a restraining order against my ex” incident, but for the most part I have put that out of my mind.

I do not spend long at the mall – I have nothing to buy, and no money to buy it with. I am walking out of Macy’s to my car. It is not dark outside, not yet, but it is overcast and looks like rain. I reach my car and start to open the door.

There is something over my face, over my nose and mouth. Someone behind me someone behind me someone behind me can’t breathe

I am aware of Pain. I am on my back but I can’t feel my arms. I am lying on top of them; they are behind my back and when I try to move them something digs into my wrists and holds them together. My stomach aches. I open my eyes.

HIS bedroom. I recognize it all too well. I am lying on his bed. My clothes are gone – where are my clothes? – and there is… blood. Blood everywhere. On my stomach, on my thighs. Between my legs is an agonizing sort of pain that I can’t think about right now.

The door opens. It is Him. He is naked except for boxer shorts, and is sipping from a bottle of water. He looks at me. I am afraid.

Him: “You’re awake.”
Me:
Him: “You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? You thought you could spread the word… try to intimidate me. Guess what? I’m not intimidated.”
Me:
Him: “But you should be.”

He walks over to the bedside table and puts the water down. I am watching him. He rifles through the drawer, pulls out a condom. I suppose I should appreciate that he’s practicing safe sex. He waves it in front of my face.

Him: “Know what I’m going to do with this?”
Me:

He slips out of his boxers. My mouth goes dry. I cannot stop staring at his fully erect penis. He smiles.

Him: “Remember this?”

He opens the condom and puts it on. It is purple and looks incredibly disturbing to me. It’s so hot in here. Why is it so hot? I am sweating. My arms are tingling. He climbs on top of me and sticks his fingers in me. Painpainpain. When he pulls his fingers out they are covered in blood. He smiles at me, and then he is inside me. I cry out because it hurts so bad. He covers my mouth with his hand and rides me. I am weeping with pain and horror, but I can’t make a sound. He fucks me for what feels like forever. When he finishes, he does not collapse on top of me like my other ex used to; instead, he merely removes his hand from my mouth and pulls out. His purple condom is coated in blood as well. The sudden change in pain level – from agonizing to merely severe – leaves me gasping in relief.

He is still smiling. He gets off of the bed and goes back to the bedside table. He pulls off the condom and throws it on the floor, and then opens the drawer again. He pulls something out, balances it in his hand. I can’t concentrate. What is it what is it. He gets back on the bed and shows it to me. A gun.

Him: “See this?”

I draw breath to scream, but it gets caught in my throat. He takes the gun and inserts it into my vagina. I am panting now, little short bursts of breath that are almost like sobs or shrieking. He pulls the trigger.

It clicks. Nothing happens. It is unloaded. I burst into tears, noisy tears, and he laughs.

Him: “No, we can’t have that.” He does not explain what he means. He grabs my upper arm and forces me into a sitting position. He drags me off the bed. I can barely stand. He takes me out of the bedroom and through the living room, into the bathroom. He shuts the door. I can sort of feel my arms now. They hurt so badly. He turns on the shower and turns to look at me.

Him: “Get in.”

I am terrified, so terrified, but nothing can be worse than the gun. I get in. The water is cold, but quickly turns to scalding hot. I am crying still; I can’t seem to stop. He lets the water run for a while, until the blood is mostly washed off of me, and then he turns off the water. He lets me out and, to my surprise, grabs keys off the counter and undoes my hands. Handcuffs. Hands free now, I massage my aching wrists. My shoulders scream in relief. He hands me a towel and tells me to dry off. I rub myself off, in so much pain whenever I bend over. He leaves the room and I contemplate running, but I don’t have my clothes or my purse and my car, what happened to my car? He returns with my stuff. He is no longer naked, but dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Completely normal-looking.

Him: “Get dressed.”

Me:

I try my hardest to get back into my clothes quickly, but I am shaking and crying so it takes longer than it should. He waits impatiently by the door, and when I am done, grabs my arm again. He leads me out of the apartment and out to the parking lot. He unlocks a white car and shoves me in the back seat. My purse is there. My keys are not. It is just now that I realize my cell phone is gone. He gets in the front seat and turns the car on. He drives.

I am watching out the window carefully, hoping maybe if he drops me somewhere random, I’ll be able to find a phone and call for help. Instead he takes me back to the mall parking lot. My car is still there. He pulls into the spot next to it and gets out. He opens up the back door and hands me my keys and my cell phone.

Him: “Get out.” I do. I practically leap over to my car and get in, but before I can shut the door he sticks his head inside.

Him: “I hope now you’ve learned your lesson. Tell anyone else, and this will happen again. Shut up, and, well, maybe… Maybe I’ll leave you alone.” Then he is in his car and he is gone, and I am left in my car, crying so hard I am screaming.

I am at the hospital because I am bleeding, bleeding like I have my period except I don’t. I scribble my information down on the preliminary paperwork and after the people at the front desk see it, they call me back almost immediately. I am taken to an exam room and asked tons of questions.

The nurse wants to know what happened. I ask for emergency contraception, and she leaves. The next person inside is someone who calls herself a rape crisis advocate. Her name is Jenny and she has a sad, sympathetic smile.

She starts asking me questions. I am refusing to answer them. She wants to know if I was raped. I say no. She asks who hurt me. I say no one. The doctor comes in and kicks her out. Jenny asks me if I want her to stay and I say no. I want no one and nothing.

The doctor is as gentle with his examination as possible, but it still hurts like hell. He tells me there is significant tearing and bruising, and asks me if I want a rape kit done. I don’t. I just want the bleeding to stop. The doctor does not pressure me. He finishes examining me and puts something inside of me to help with the bleeding. He gives me a list of instructions: No sex, no masturbation, no tampons, no douching, for at least a month. I need to wash regularly with clean, warm water, but don’t stick my fingers or anything else inside. He quickly draws blood for testing – pregnancy and HIV, he says – and says he will call me with the results in a few days. He asks me before he leaves if I want the advocate to come back in, and I say no, I’m fine. He says, let me get your paperwork, and leaves the room.

I am alone and I have stopped crying. I am Numb now. The nurse comes back in with my paperwork and I sign. She gives me a little plastic cup with a pill in it and a paper cup of water. She explains that this is the morning after pill. I am a pro at swallowing pills. She asks if there is anyone she can call, and I say no, I’ll be fine. I get dressed again and I go home. I call my dad on the way home to tell him I’m on my way.