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it still hurts. sometimes i feel like i am too harsh on myself. i only spoke up about waht happened when many years have passed. i knew i wasnt comfortable with what happened but i could expressed it, i kept it deep down and try to supress it from my mind. when i finally spoke up a long time have happened, i am hard on me because i knew it could have get better sooner, i am hard on myself because sometimes i feel like i am making a big deal out of something small. i try to remind myself that i am strong, that i am caring and this shall pass too.

The first time I saw a penis I was 11 years old. A man flashed open his coat when he passed me by in the street and there I saw it, that odd fleshy bit hanging out of his open zip. I remember feeling panic, disgust and shame, as if it was my fault somehow. When I was 12 and on a holiday camp, one of the older guys working there invited me to his cabin to play some music and made me wait while he took a shower, coming out from the bathroom with his robe semi open. Again, panic and shame. In my first job, age 20, the boss became obsessed with me and I had to literally run around the conference table in order to avoid his hands on my body. Every time I was called into his office I asked my colleagues to interrupt the meeting after 5 minutes, so I could safely escape his harassment. I told my mother and she laughed it off, saying it was just classic men behaviour. I eventually had to leave the job cause he was becoming more and more persistent. I'm 56 years old and I personally don't know ANY woman of my generation who hasn't been through similar situations.

I was raped by my uncle when I was 11 years old. Most of my family didn't believe me. That was really painful and prevented me from getting the support and help I needed at the time. I developed an eating disorder and started self-harming as a trauma response. I had no other way of coping. I wish I had known more about SA when I was younger. Not to prevent it because I believe that it's the perpetrator that makes the choice to harm. But to understand that it wasn't my fault, that I was a victim and to report it when I still had time.

I was young and naive. I didn't even know what rape was. I sought help from my friends only to be met with all of the "why didn't you...this?" or "why didn't you...that?" From that point on I blamed myself and never spoke about the rape. In my early adulthood, I had a coworker that recognized something in me and she asked me if I had been raped. She offered me support and resources. I still hadn't ever heard of any advocacy programs. At age 25, I applied for a new job working with child abuse victims. Little did I know, but they also worked with victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. I found my healing there and I continue to work there 31 years later. I found my healing and strength through educating the public and advocating for others. As I get older, I get bolder. I no longer fear sharing my story.

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Like many survivors, I did not fully understand or process what had been done to me until adulthood. Trauma does not operate on a clean or predictable timeline. It delays recognition, fragments memory, and often prevents disclosure until years—sometimes decades—later. When I finally came forward and spoke publicly about the abuse I experienced as a child, I believed I was exercising a basic right: to tell the truth about what happened to me. Instead, I was met with coercion. After I disclosed the abuse, my abuser and his attorney issued legal threats and demands aimed at forcing me to retract my statements and remain silent. I was pressured to take down my survivor narrative and was threatened with financial and legal consequences simply for speaking about what was done to me as a child. At the same time, I have been unable to find legal representation of my own. Despite confirming documentation, despite the seriousness of the harm, and despite acting in good faith, I have been told repeatedly that my case is “too old,” “too difficult,” or financially unviable under existing laws. The result is a brutal imbalance of power: the person who abused me had legal counsel ready to threaten me, while I—his victim—could not find a lawyer willing or able to help me pursue justice. This is what survivors face when the law closes its doors. I did not choose to be abused. I did not choose how my mind protected me as a child. And I should not be punished, intimidated, or silenced for seeking accountability as an adult. No survivor should be subjected to legal threats from their abuser for telling the truth. No survivor should be forced to face an abuser’s attorney alone, without representation, simply because trauma delayed their ability to come forward. And no one should be denied access to the courts while those who harmed them are able to use the legal system as a weapon. That is why Trey’s Law matters. Trey’s Law is not about revenge. It is about access—access to justice, access to accountability, and access to the courts for survivors whose abuse could not realistically be confronted within rigid, outdated timelines. If abuse happens again to someone else—and we know it will—they should not have to endure what I have endured just to be heard. They should not be threatened for speaking. They should not be shut out of the legal system before they ever have a chance to stand in it. Trey’s Law recognizes the reality of trauma and corrects a system that currently protects abusers better than it protects the people they harmed. I am sharing my story not only for myself, but for every survivor who was told it was “too late,” who was pressured into silence, or who discovered that the hardest part was not surviving the abuse—but surviving the system afterward. I will not stop until the law honors who it should: the victims.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

I am a child sexual abuse survivor living in Canada with an NDA for childhood sexual abuse for the past 28 years. When I sought to lift my NDA in 2018 after my abuser had died, the British Columbia court denied me and refused to lift the NDA. So, for the past seven years, I have been advocating both provincial and federal politicians in Canada to ban the misuse of NDAs for childhood sexual abuse survivors. With the passage of Trey's Law in both Texas and Missouri (and more states soon, I hope!), this will place pressure on the Canadian government and the provinces to pass similar legislation. I'm very heartened (and healed too!) by all of the survivors sharing their stories in the Missouri and Texas legislatures. All of this testimony is very important as evidence to prove the long-term extensive damage of an NDA on a childhood abuse victim for ensuing court cases. (This kind of evidence of long-term damage was missing in my BC court case; as a result, my application to lift the NDA was denied). We all need to keep speaking out to change the future for children. We might not be able to change the past, but we can certainly change the present and make the world safer for others. After a great deal of suffering for many years, I can see now that the suffering has had a meaning. As a result, I have become a stronger person. I am not thankful for the abuse, but it seems to me that a greater force in the universe is helping all victims to completely change the world right now. It is an unprecedented moment in human history and we all need to keep moving this incredible change forward. Thank you to Trey's Law and to all the survivors who have spoken in support of Trey's Law.

My first memory ever is the pain, pressure, fear, and disgust of being raped. I remember the heat of the room, the pressure and debilitating pain of it every crevice and hole possible he created pain. There’s not many good memories I remember at all honestly till I reached 3rd grade. From 3 to 8 every summer it was endless rape and pain in hopes to protect my brother and his siblings and the absolute fear he put in me. He was my moms friends son older then me but not much. He made me feel disgusting, dirty, petrified like I deserved this I was scared of him in every way. He was a horrible man no remorse but it makes me think something happened to him as well. It makes no sense that it could fit in my tiny mouth my private areas everywhere I still remember it like yesterday it felt like I was being ripped apart the pressure was unbearable. But I knew if I just went through with it and stayed quiet I would be free the rest of the day. I quickly learned to stay quiet when he brought out the BB gun though not a real gun I can tell you it hurt the one time I screamed for help he shot and shot and shot I hate the number 3. I get confused on how my parents and doctors didn’t know. I had constant utis, stomach issues, pain and burning my doctor said I was dramatic and nobody seemed to notice. I always cried for help in the bathroom for wiping but it was really because I was scared to even touch there it was so sore. But I denied every thing that I’m fine he convinced me this had to happen that I was worthless and this is what I was made for to help him and save the other kids from it. So he knew it was wrong yet he picked me. He took my childhood from me I lived in constant fear and anxiety I was petrified of everyone even class mates. I had horrific dreams every single night putting me in a state of paralyzing fear. In third grade I escaped so I thought. I made it until I started taking the route to our house it was the summer before 7th grade i was walking home from Work at the salon I don’t know how or why but there he was on Main Street both of us alone he pulled me into the bathroom on the brick building of the circle I didn’t make a noise why the fuck didn’t I make a noise how was he even there and again took everything away from me nobody stopped or cared. How did my family not know I was gone longer how did they not see the pain in my face and body I was on my period then he was so happy to promise he would be the farther of my baby one day. I was picked up most days I would tell my parents I really didn’t want to walk home most the time I’d be picked up but every single time I had to walk Wich was only 4 times he was there to destroy me again like he was watching my every move how did he know those days how I still don’t understand it. The salon would send me for lunches and of course I couldn’t drive so I had to walk everywhere I was petrified and swore he was watching then. After this I planned to kill myself but he soon died and I finally was free well my body was free but not my mind, I was still trapped in this hell of fear and hate for myself that he would find me again I still suffer every single day not a single day goes by without me thinking of that hell. There were times I could start to feel myself getting better and then it would come crashing down in disaster. Constant nightmares paralyzed fear anger. I wish to god I would have told people then I would have had so much more help and would have already been so much farther in recovery but I finally told someone! It started with my therapist who helped me find the courage to tell my family and every fear of not being believed and scared to be in trouble was proven wrong my family has done nothing but help me face this and though it’s proven to be harder before it’s better I am so happy I’ve started my recovery and hope to find peace soon! A support system is so important I couldn’t be more grateful for mine. I hope this can help others in some way if i could say anything to another survivor is that it will never be perfect but you will get better this does not define you.

Stare the Stalker Down The beach is nothing like the soft sands at location, my hometown. It's pebbly with gentle waves lapping it's shore. I sit by the edge. Tears roll down my cheeks. They wet the pebbles and the sand. The Freedom is overwhelming. So many emotions. I had woven a blanket over my pain. It's today's date but my story began on a date in the past. I got married that day. The day ex husband told me he owned me. The day he put a curfew on me. From that day I was his. I will never forget date. My 9pm curfew had passed. I was working late. Panic stricken I fled the office. My boss tore after me offering a life, thus avoiding the 20 minute walk. He insisted on stopping at the chipper. I couldn't say anything. You see, I had never told anyone what my life was like. How could I? What would they think? All I could think was "Oh dear God just get me home". Ex husband was there, absolutely livid. Burger, chips, onions, red sauce hit me like a brick. Smash straight into my face. Humiliated and wretched I felt burger, chips, onions, red sauce stream down my crying face. It was one of two turning points. Next morning, I told my boss everything: how if I stayed I would surely die. The relief. Between us we hatched a plan. I told nobody. Two days later I caught the train to City and signed up with some Agencies. When I got back ex husband was at the station. He was so angry. I didn't know it then but each morning he had followed me to make sure I had gone to work. He manhandled me into the car. People stared but nobody interfered. I thought the end has come and I would lie on that cold wet ground. Back home he straddled my chest for the entire evening. I could scarcely breathe. 5am he fell off me having fallen into a deep sleep. I crawled on my hands and knees, heart pounding in my chest, locked the door from the house and ran. Courage comes in all guises. Gloria Gaynor's song : "I Will Survive". I played it, I sang it, in my mind, out loud and I promised myself I would survive. The prayer "The Memorare". How can I thank that Prayer enough? the words helped me at my lowest point. I believed that I would get help from somewhere and today it holds a special place in my heart. I started my new job in City. I moved into a flat with my sister and her friend. Then it started - the Stalking - ex husband new my every move. When I went home at the weekends, he would linger outside my mam's house waiting for me. He constantly followed me. His shadowy figure never more than a few feet away. Beside me, behind me, in front of me. Never speaking a word but just staring. My peace was destroyed. Threats made in the past had not been forgotten. That night he told me that he would get me "not now but sometime in the future and forever you will look over your shoulder you f........ b......." My mam died in year and I visited her grave almost every Saturday as I still went back down to location. My siblings lived there. Always ex husband was there. Skulking behind or beside a headstone close by. I changed my times and my route but it never made a difference. He appeared and just stared. He never spoke a word. I never knew if "today would be the day". I knew his threat was real. Ex husband would crawl drive down the Main Street if he saw me, staring out of the driver's window and follow me until I got to my destination. Cars would beep at him to speed up but he ignored them. The only gesture he would make would be with his fingers "keeping an eye on you". Five years passed. Everyday without exception he appeared at my workplace in location He would follow me back to the flat. He kept pace behind me but never passed. I puked in litter bins and gutters. He made me sick in every sense of the word. I was a wreck. We moved but he always found me. I later found out that he changed his work schedule to flexi-time so that he could make the round trip Monday to Friday and then at the weekends he stalked me when at home. One day ran into the next. He stalked me. I puked. Who could I tell? Who would help? There was nobody. The Police wouldn't believe you at that time and anyway they could do nothing. I mean he hadn't harmed me!! Mentally I was dead inside. I left my wonderful job and moved to the location. I met a wonderful man, husband. We got married in year and in year our son, son's name was born. You would think the stalking would stop! We would go to location at the weekends. So beautiful. I loved the sea. Husband knew I had been married to ex husband but my life with him was too painful to discuss with anyone so I didn't tell husband about the stalking or anything else and thus it continued, but now ex husband had a new hatred in his eyes. My walks on the beach vanished. Ex husband was like radar. Always there. It was so scary. Little by little my life was vanishing. Ex husband never followed with husband came with us. Ex husband would always try and find a way to interact with son's name. Once at a Vintage Car Rally, I let go of son's hand for an instant and within seconds ex husband had taken it and was trying to give him a Dinky car that he had purchased mar dhea for him. I grabbed son's name and left. Trips to Tesco were a nightmare. Son's name would be in the trolly. We would be at the checkout and then always at the next checkout stood ex husband. No groceries and that stare. Staring me down and staring my son down. Back then stalking wasn't recognised as anything let alone a crime and I would have been deemed an "eejit". Then turning point two came: date. Husband's younger brother, brother in law's name came on his holidays to location. He hadn't seen the sea before. The excitement. I felt nervous all morning getting the picnic basket ready and our stuff but it would be okay as husband would be with us. At the last minute, husband got an urgent call out from work. He was on 24 hour call in his job. God I couldn't disappoint the kids. Son's name was now 6, and then I had daughter's name and daughter's name and of course brother in law's name coming for the first time. Our house was at the bottom of a lane. There was ex husband behind the lamp post. I tried to ignore him. The beach would be busy. Once he saw no husband that was it. He started to follow us. Up the quayside ex husband walked behind us. He didn't pass, didn't speak. Over the bridge, still behind us a few feet. I could see brother in law's name looking wondering why that man was not passing us out! Passed the duck pond and over to the beach. He still followed. I remember the day so well. A beautiful Summer's day. Hearts bright and excitement in the air but my heart was pounding, scared shitless. I put down the blanket, the kids leapt about with excitement. And then there was ex husband! Practically on top of us. Not more than a few feet away. Lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, facing us, staring and staring. I felt sick. My head pounded and my heart was beating in my breastbone. If I get into the sea with the kids what will he do? I couldn't leave our things. I didn't know what he would do. I was afraid to go, afraid to stay, afraid to let the kids go to the edge, afraid for all of us. I packed up the picnic and headed home. Ex husband followed. Matters were taken out of my hands when I got home. brother in law's name told husband about the man following us and that he was scared of him and he described him in detail. Husband figured it out very quickly and then I told him what had been going on all of these years, since year to be exact! I thought he would be angry at me for not telling him but he just held me close and told me that it was going to be alright. A person doesn't have to be imprisoned for their freedom to be taken from them. I learned to "stare". Husband taught me. I had staring matches with my siblings growing up but now this was different. This I knew was life changing. I need to stare ex husband down and that took practice, a lot of practice. I know it sounds absurd but learning to hold a stare for a considerable length of time is no easy task. Everyday after dinner, we held our staring matches, Husband and I. Our gazes fixed on one another and I knew that I would have to hold that stare for a long time to get the better of ex husband. I felt like giving up so many times. Several weeks later in location I was attending my parents' grave and sure enough just as the sun rises there he was. I knew husband wouldn't let anything happen to me and that I now knew ex husband was a coward and a bully. Once stood up to, they cower and slink away into the hole from which they came. Ex husband stared, I stared. I could see the hatred in his eyes. The date came flooding back to me. I kept staring. He got so angry but his stare never wavered and neither did mine. I prayed to every Saint in Christendom. I prayed that my mam and dad would somehow get up out of their grave and get him. I prayed the Memorare like my life depended on it and I sang in my mind "I Will Survive". I was determined to take ownership of my life. My eyes burned, blurred, watered. Oh God let this over soon, I prayed. But he just stared and stared for what seemed like an eternity. Then as quietly as he had entered the graveyard because I didn't hear or see him come in, he left it. I fell to my knees on my parents' grave and wept. Sixteen years had passed since I left ex husband and the stalking ended but it took until 2022 - a full number of years later - for me to walk on a beach on my own. I know so much more now. In 2020 I contacted a support service. The gave me the skills to cope with ex husband and I continue to work with those skills. I know I should have told husband, and should have told my family, but I never did. I was so ashamed, but I can speak about it now. My friends in location came back out of the woodwork. I thought they had deserted me, but ex husband had warned them off in no uncertain terms and they were scared. date is my special day. It's the day I sat by the calming waters and felt proud of my achievement. I might not ever stop looking over my shoulder but I am working on it. I wanted to tell this story in the hope that it might be of benefit of somebody else.

I feel like nobody talks about COCSA. And I feel like no one talks about female perpetrators. I’m not necessarily here to talk about the abuse that happened to me, but for context, I was nine and the other child was a nine year old girl. What really haunts me is what I did after. I inflicted this pain onto someone else, I figure I was probably about 10 and she was 9. She was my mom’s friends daughter. My mom’s best friend, actually. And I’ve been thinking a lot about how much that must’ve ruined their friendship when they found out what happened. How much anger my mother must have deep down felt towards me. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. And I tell myself “I didn’t touch her I didn’t actually lay my hands on her I didn’t do it” but I did. I hurt someone like that and maybe I have an excuse and maybe I don’t but all I can think is how horrible I feel to have done something like that to another person. It was never about getting caught or getting in trouble, im just disgusted with myself. Just recently I remembered that I was raped twice that night, not once. And now I’m terrified that maybe I’m forgetting something and maybe I did this more than once, but how could I have forgotten doing something like that? I would never harm a child today. Never. There is not a single doubt in my mind that I would ever hurt anybody like that again. All I think about now is if I’m this awful person because nobody ever talks about this side of childhood SA and the people that do are treated like monsters. But maybe that’s what I deserve.

I feel anger toward my father. To me, my father is a monster. He's bound by patriarchy. He's been a very problematic person since I was a child. He was verbally and physically abusive toward my mother. He had a big attitude at home. He put on a good face. My father moved around a lot due to his job, but I ended up skipping school. I was sexually assaulted in high school and went to a mental health clinic, which led to him calling me weird. I loved creating, but he said that was weird too. My older sister was also a victim of my father, but she was always smiling, no matter what my father did to her. He was emotionally attached to her. He was like a lover or a mother to me. I was rebellious, so he ignored me. My father used me and sexually harassed me (he did the same to me), and even when I told others, I was only victimized. He sometimes spoke as if he were some kind of great person. He was abusive toward my mother. Weird women give birth to weird children. Women become weird when they get their period. I myself wondered why I created art, and at times considered getting tested for Asperger's syndrome. I quit, but... My older sister was exploited by another man, married him, and committed suicide on their wedding anniversary. As my father gets older, I feel nothing but anger toward him, and in Japan, there's a culture that makes it seem like we have to take care of our fathers. My father deserved it, and I want him to take his sins to the afterlife, but unfortunately, he has surprisingly not changed his behavioral principles. Perpetrators never change. My mother's cognitive function is declining slightly. I may be the one who survives in the end, even though I'm the only one who's completely devastated. I'm wondering whether I should be present at his end or go to his funeral, but at this stage, I don't have any plans to be present or go to the funeral. I also have some memory loss about where my father's hometown is. On exhausted nights, I sometimes wish I could die. My doctor recommended that I publish my creative work. I'm considering my interests (Western music, etc.), the fact that I've earned a certain number of credits from a correspondence university, and the fact that I took the Eiken exam a long time ago. Taking these factors into account, I'm pondering how I want to live the rest of my life. Part of me is social anxiety, so I'm a recluse. Is my life worth living? There is still no answer.

i cant really remember when it all "started" i was 6 or 7 i believe it lasted until i was 8 but he was still doing creepy shit until i was 9 or 10 one night he asked me what sex was im not sure what i said but i think i kinda knew what it was but didnt really know he asked to have sex i didnt know what to do i think i "contented" this time i was anxious the entire time i wanted him to stop i would tell him to quit and that i hear someone and he wouldnt stop after that it continued i dont remember the order or anything it happened i dont remember it really but he would use code words such as "wanna watch funny mine craft videos" i would try to convince him to watch ACTUAL funny minecraft videos but he wanted to watch porn or "have sex" i never would say yes when he would as for sex right away it usually was him begging me or manipulating or sometimes forcing himself on to me. he would say "you never wanna do what i wanna do", mock me, ask over and over again, or if i was sitting infront of him he would stick his private into the back of my pants. i remember oncs i kept saying stop and no when i was playing minecraft on his xbox and he kept sticking his yknow down my pants. he raped me one time. he usually just sexually assualted me (rubbed my private, grabbed boobs, did the whole sticking his private down my pants thing) but this time he begged and said since he touched my private (i didnt want him too) that i had to do stuff to him i told him no but he said i had to and its not fair shit like that yknow. he made me give him head basically. after that i put an "end" to it by threatening to tell if he asks me again. he acted all depressed. i felt guilty like i was doing something wrong. that wasnt the only reason why i felt so guilty. my dad passed away around that time and i thought he was watchkng over and hated me for what my cousin was doing for me because i thought i was "having sex" when i was pretty much sa the entire time. he still managed to do creepy things to me after. like holding me down and pressing his private aganist mine saying its "a game", writing this is making me grossed out i dont wanna think about this anymore i just need someone to actually listen to my story even though i dont havr all the details or good memory of what happened to me.

Wow, first of all. How empowering. I can't even fully talk to therapists or my family support workers because I'm afraid I'll have to make statements. I've been sexually assaulted and raped more times than I can remember. One particularly tough event, my ex, my child's fathers. Well I was passed out. I woke up to him carefully pulling out of my body. I ran to the toilet. Sick with shock. I had a protection order but I had let my guard down and gotten drunk with neighbours the night before. I called my sister. She came to bring me to an emergency chemist. I took the morning after pill. Month came, the Date and I still hadn't got my period. The test was positive. I had to illegally obtain tablets and have an abortion in my sisters house. Very sad and awful time of my life. This platform is a god send.

This is my life story, well, at least the major events that come to mind. There are aspects of my life that I have either blocked out or chosen not to remember. When I was about 5 years old, my grandfather on my mother’s side started molesting me. It went on for a while, and I vividly remember crying to my mom, begging her not to make me go back there one weekend. In response, she looked at me and asked if my grandfather was touching me. I mustered the courage to say yes, hoping for support. To my dismay, she told me that my grandfather was sick and that I needed to support him. She continued to send me to his house every weekend until I turned 8, when he passed away. At the age of twelve, a traumatizing incident occurred. I was raped at a school basketball game by a high school student. My mother’s solution to this was to move us to another state. Unfortunately, that didn’t shield me from more pain. At 14 years old, I was gang-raped at a party and ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Thankfully, the police came, and the men responsible were arrested and charged. However, on the day of the court hearing, before I took the stand, something happened. I can’t recall the specifics, but my mom said something so terrifying that it coerced me out of testifying. Because of that, the adult perpetrator walked away free. I distinctly remember the furious look my dad gave my mom. He was so angry, while she callously said, “what would the people say.” It was a devastating blow. Tragedy struck again when I was 15 years old. I lost my father to suicide. Shockingly, my mom and sister blamed me for his death and gave me up to the state, making me an orphan. From that point, I bounced from foster home to foster home, eventually ending up in a group home until I turned 18. Desperate and lost, I fell into a dangerous cycle. I became addicted to drugs and involved in drug trafficking. My relationships were plagued by violence and abuse. In a desperate attempt to find a sense of belonging, I got involved with a Cartel Name. I immersed myself in their world, learning fluent Spanish. Tragically, I ended up being kidnapped and remained missing until the FBI located me eight months later. They discovered me chained up to a bed, on the brink of death. After spending five months rehabilitating in an State hospital, I was finally returned home. Throughout all these experiences, I encountered domestic violence, battled drug abuse, and confronted countless challenges along the way. Yet here I am today – resilient and determined to create positive change. My life has been a series of unimaginable hardships and painful experiences. From the abuse I suffered as a child to the trauma of rape and the loss of my father, I have faced more than anyone should have to endure. The path I walked led me down dark and dangerous roads, filled with addiction, crime, and violence. But amidst the darkness, I found a glimmer of hope. I made the decision to break free from the cycle of abuse and rebuild my life. With sheer determination, I ventured into the unknown, finding solace in new places and pursuing education to empower myself. Now, as I share my story, I am studying for my Master’s degree in human services, driven by a deep desire to help others who have faced similar struggles. I refuse to let the past define me, and I am committed to making a positive impact in the lives of others. My journey has been long and tumultuous, but it has also shown me the strength and resilience that resides within me.

The first sexual assault I went through was when I was 12 years old and my first ever boyfriend I had at the time Raped me he was 14 years old at the time I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him he ended up pushing me on his bed and he ended up raping me I couldn’t even get him off cause he was very heavy & hurting me. I got sexually assaulted when I was 16 years old old and the guy who did it was 22 years old and it was a painful experience when he grabbed my boobs. The third and fourth times I was sexually assaulted from my then boyfriend he was also physically abusive towards me as well he used to always punch me in my stomach and he would hit me on my neck & shoulder I was eventually able to get out of the relationship I am a survivor of rape I am a survivor of sexual assaults I am a survivor of domestic violence as well

Fuck every single one of you motherfuckers. Fuck what you did to me. Fuck what you said to me. Liars. Manipulators. Gaslighters. Heart breakers. Rapist .Takers. Evil. All these voices in my head get loud, I wish I could shut them out or kill them. Get out. Die. Go to hell. An empty void of nothingness. Everything that was and is, is gone. It never existed. I blend in with the darkness. I can't tell the difference between his hands and everyone else's. Trapped in that moment forever. Tainted. Fucking sickening. Maybe if I died, everyone would be happy. Burden free. A dead person can't feel pain. Another body in the graveyard. That's all I'll be. I need to get out. I need a way out.

This girl who did this to me, everyone thought we were sisters we were so close but here’s my story… Throughout being 9-13 I was molested by my cousin who is a year younger than me I know it sounds weird but we knew from a young age that she had things wrong with her. Her mum is a drug addict who’s been in and out her life for as long as I can remember I grew up with her and we were always so close. I never saw anything wrong with what she was doing because she made it into games so I didn’t see that there was anything wrong with it. I also have mental issues but when I started to realise what she was doing was more than “games” I didn’t stay at my grandads for a while because we used to spend every weekend there together. But then the last 6 months of lockdown she had to come live with me and I had never told anyone what she had been doing to me but nothing happens threw out the 6 months because we didn’t have to share a bed thankfully I had a cabin bed which is like a bunk bed and she was in a mattress on the floor and one night I heard making weird noises and I looked over to see her masterbating but never said a word. Then afterwords she went to live with her sister which she still does now and my grandad told us he bought two beds so we didn’t have to share whenever we came over anymore and he got me a cabin bed so I was fine so I stayed there a couple times and nothing happened so I started trusting her again and then one night she made us make a den like we used to when she was. Younger I didn’t want to but she said “well I’m already having a bad day your just making it worse” so I just did make it then I woke up and she was raping me but I couldn’t move all I could do was cry but she didn’t notice then we she stopped all I could hear was her finishing herself off and then she kissed me on the top of my back which to this day makes me feel so dirty but then I could move I grabbed my shorts put them on grabbed my phone ran out side and called my dad and he came and got me and he asked her what she was doing and she just sat there saying she didn’t do anything to this day j haven’t spoke to her and she’s tried to get in touch with me multiple times. Also she told her sister that she doesn’t get why she doesnt talk to me anymore I hate her I hate her I could never tel my family the details and how long she actually did it for all they know about is that one night.

When I was 7(I am a girl) my older cousin who would’ve been 9(also a girl) came to live with me and my family and she had to share a room with me because my parents didn’t have enough space for her to have her own room, and we had to share one room. I think very early on she found out about p0rn and she saw sexual acts in the videos and one day she told me that we were gonna play a game and she told me that i was going to be a girl and she was going to be a boy. By the way this was late at night, my brother was asleep, her parents were asleep and my parents were asleep so i guess i was vulnerable in that way. I remember that we didn’t really have like a conversation about consent because i didn’t know what was going on truly but i remember what she did to me and told me to do to her. At first she told me to just like kiss her and she told me to use my tongue. And then she told me to lift up my shirt and groped my newly developed chests. And told me to do the same to her. Then she told me to finger her and fingered me. I didn’t know what fingering was so of course she had to explain it to me. And at first this was all it was, there was no oral involved. But by the time i had turn 8(i was born later in the year so it was only a couple months later) It had continued and gotten worse. She started to give me hickeys on my breast, and she ate my pussy, she would also try and show me p0rn, and when i said that it was weird she told me to just watch it. I remember one time i was trying on bras with my mom because i had developed more and needed new ones, she saw a hickey on my breast and got so scared for me, and emotional, she bugged me with what happened, I didn’t know what to say. I told my cousin and she told me that if i told her what happened she’d tell everyone about our secret. I thought I had done something wrong and honestly still do but anyways I got scared and told her mom and my mom that we were fighting, i hit her in her face, so she punched me in my chest, even though that was a lie, i did it to save her. I remember she was very manipulative and still is so it’s hard to say no and not follow her rules. (She also gave me rules to follow like done everything i say, don’t disobey me, etc.) This continued until she left and i remember feeling peace afterwards. I got really close with my cousin who is only a couple months younger than me and I told her about my experience. Turns out she was also touched(she never experienced oral but that’s still horrible) and she got kissed with tongue. I still don’t know if this is truly COCSA but i still have trauma i think and i feel like i sexualize myself and im just over sexual. Anyways, I am still in contact and sort of close with my abuser, and for some reason now she likes ruining my relationships, and my other two cousins who were also abused relationships. For example, she tried to tell her mom, my mom, and my aunt who favors her that my boyfriend was using me for sex even though me and my boyfriend have a loving relationship. I can’t cut her off yet because we’re both still minors but when i get older i honestly want to, but i come from a family with generational trauma with a lot of aunts and uncles who believe that no matter what we’re family and we should always love each other and talk to each other However my cousin(the one who i’m very close with) wants to tell her mom, step mom, and my mom. I’m scared and I don’t feel ready, just because i feel like it would cause a lot of family issues. And the family bond we share would be collateral damage.

Hello, this is my first post and I wanted to share what happened as a female on female SA victim (I think, not sure tho)... When I was 15 at the time my then firend took advantage of me. She offered to give me a massage at a public pool, but her touches became inappropriate and manipulative. At the time, I didn’t realize what was happening, and I even defended her when my parents noticed red flags and tried to protect me. And since then my parents developed prejudices against LGBTQ+ people, which I don’t agree with. However, that trauma made me reinforce my heterosexuality and influenced my vews. Even now, I still struggle to set boundaries, even after what happened.

In my survival story, "Just Words, Dirty Words", I shared so much and I brushed over an experience with a male gynecologist. It was a much bigger deal that I let on because it had triggered my previous abuse as an adolescent on my first job. I wonted other girls and women to understand what is not okay for a gynecologist to do. It was not until after it happened that I realized the full impact. I realized I had let myself be victimized again without trying to stop it. I felt self-loathing and anxiety. I write this letter to that opportunistic predator. You broke your oath. You betrayed the trust. You are terrible! I have done research on what a breast and pelvic exam is supposed be like and understand you used the framework to sexually assault me. I was late for the appointment to get birth control at the university clinic when I had just moved for college. You let me in even though you had no nurse chaperon, it seemed that you might have sent them home after putting me in the room. You are a man and that is against policy. We shared our first eye contact and I ignored your lust and first glance flirtation. You saw I was vulnerable and needed something from you. You told me as a new patient you have to do a full first visit exam. Now I believe you may have lied. I nodded and put down my guard. When you returned I was undressed wearing a paper smock for a false sense of security. I was self conscious even though I had impeccable hygiene and grooming but worried I was not fresh enough so late in the day because you were a man and you made it sexual. You examined my breasts with no gloves. I said nothing. I knew you were massaging them for you pleasure. You went on for five minutes like that. I think five whole minutes while you kept talking. When my boss used to molest me just seconds was plenty to make me feel sick and used. He would sit on my torso, compressing my ribs to the point I could not take a deep breath and have sex with my breasts and he usually took less time than you. do remember you used the words “wonderful” and “amazing” when commenting on by breast health. We could both smell the musk from down below from stimulating me like that. I was embarrassed. You should have been the one ashamed! You mentioned the textures and gave some instructional anatomy to pretend it might be official. You asked random questions and you shared personal stories like it was a date. All the while you were groping my tits like a pervert. Both hands at the same time! I tried to cover for you by pretending like this was not insane and not a sexual assault. You were twice my age and your mustache was ridiculous. You finally moved on to the pelvic exam. You said the words, “Very nice” when you lifted up the paper drape to help my feet into the stirrups. That is not appropriate when viewing a patient’s vagina for the first time. You explained every step from “I’m going to touch your thighs now” to “take a deep breath as I insert the speculum”. That part was quick but then you explained the manual exam that you did for too long. You inserted two fingers to check for cervical motion tenderness but rubbed my clitoris with your lubricated thumb as you did so. That was wrong! You explained that you were going to move your other hand to check for tenderness of my ovaries to check for infection but kept working your other hand on my clit and inside me. You put what felt like three fingers in me! You were sexually assaulting me again. Breaching my trust. Ignoring you oath. As a last indignity you felt for masses in the space between my vagina and rectum. You left your thumb in my vagina while you put a finger in my anus and moved them both back and in and out explaining you thought you felt something for a second but it resolved on massage, meaning it was nothing to worry about. You raped me! That was rape! I looked it up and what you were doing is a real part of an exam but no gynecologist had done that before then or ever since! Instead of leaving the room while I dressed you stayed and helped by holding out my clothes! Totally inappropriate! You should not have a medical license! Sure I let you, and I cooperated, and even tried to endure it and put on a pleasant face. I was a different person then and you just continued my cycle of being abused by men. But the anus part was where I felt true terror and wanted to get out. You gave me a business card with your name on it and told me to call and ask when you were working to schedule next visit. Then you only wrote me for 1 refill on 30 day birth control! Like I would even come back to be assaulted again. You smug abuser of power and trust! I left with you thinking I enjoyed that and would see you again!!! You make me want to scream and pound on things! It was delayed, but my abuse anxiety was triggered that night, and days after. I will never see a male gynecologist again. Your lust and greed is not better than that of a rapist. You broke my trust in the medical system and I still get anxiety at any doctor visit. Just because a girl’s reaction to abuse is not instant, because of some survival mechanism, does not make it any less painful. Sometimes even more, because we feel guilty for not being strong and assertive. You were in a position of authority and abused it so badly. You should be ashamed, doctor! You should be in prison!