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I don't know in which moment started. It was my father. I was a child. I was the favorite one between all of our brother and sisters. It was always subtle. The contact when I lay down on his bed, the slaps on the butt, or the comments that "you are so pretty that if I were your age and you weren't my daughter I would be with you.", added to the touch when I climbed onto his legs. It took me many years to understand that this, added to the fact that he did not see me as a normal father sees a daughter, hurt me tremendously. I felt like a trophy, like an extension of his body. I discovered that all this was abuse more than a year and a half ago. When I realized it in therapy I cried a lot. I felt very guilty about what happened, and even to this day I question whether I am not inventing everything, since everything is plausible and existed in reality, I just didn't want to see it as abuse. My older brother also abused my sisters and me, however, I have never been able to tell my family about my father. Seeing the pain they have felt with the news about my brother (relieved by one of my sisters), I see that it would only generate inconvenience and pain in my family. And being pragmatic, I couldn't achieve anything by revealing the news to my family other than complications. I know that if my sisters knew, they would want to talk to my father, and my father knowing would be able to stop paying my and my younger sister's alimony. And considering we're in college, it's something I can't afford. But I'm not going to lie, I feel disgusted every time I talk to him, I wish i would never have to talk to him.

I was SA when I was 10 years old approximately, and my cousin 13 approximately (he is 3 years older than me). My depression start at that age approximately too, so know that im thinking about it that was maybe the reason. This week i told my mom about it, im 18, so my trauma happen 8 years later, i feel guilty because she want to talk with my family, not all, but yes some people of my family about what happen, i dont want ruin his life, even if he ruin mine, if he get some consequences i will feel guilty because this happen 8 years ago. My mom dont understand why i worry so much about it, i dont understand eather. I know that maybe he was conscious about that what he do was SA, because he was 13 approximately, not 7, not 8, not 9, not even 10. He meet his girlfriend when she was 17 and he was 19, and sometimes is a asshole, but i cant stop feeling guilty about it, even when i dont understand, because no one give me sexual education at 10, and im autistic, and when i was a kid it was more dificult undertand things. Sorry for my broken english, English is not my first language, i just want know why is not my fault, because its feel like it is.

I was a 7 year old girl with a lot of confidence, maybe that's why or just luck happened but the truth doesn't matter in this story, I grew up with only cousins and vafones brothers in a very close family, everyone knew everything it's quite surprising that they didn't know until I spoke what happened, during a vacation I don't remember the year or the place but I do remember that I was playing a hulk play 2 game, it was very late like 4 or 5 in the morning and my cousin was taking care of me he was older than 10 years old and he told me to sit on his lap, I remember how he took the game controller from me and then everything is confusing I don't remember anything until the following year, I matured quickly everyone said it was because I was an intelligent and agile girl, I was the next time that cousin tried to put a hand on me when I was 8 almost 9 I broke his nose.

1983, that year sticks out so loudly. That year, my younger brother started sexually abusing me. It was always when our only parent was away at work. It would happen either in my closet or my bathroom (it was carpeted). I can’t remember how many times this happened but I’m going to say 4 more years worth. I have had a family acquaintance ask my parent if he could date me, I was 12 years old at that time. That still bothers me to this day. I had a weapon held to me asking me to comply with something sexual. My mind went completely blank. Needless to say, he is serving the rest of his natural life behind bars for violating his daughters. I lost a fantastic job for reporting sexual harassment. My life has been on a downward spiral now. I have no family or support system and this is a dark and lonely road to be on. I think I’m ready to seek some help. I haven’t had any contact with this sibling of mine in almost 20 years.

My mom wants a divorce but my father refuses to let go. Here's the context, judge as you wish. He was 25 when they informally married, my mom was 18. Despite her being a minor when they met, he showed up at her dorm from where he was working and asked her to elope. The first time he hit my mom was on her first birthday married to him. Because they eloped, my mom didn't want to tell her parents this and risk saddening them further, so she told herself to bear with it. They officially married 3 years later. Since then, he's continued physically abusing her. He also instigates her to the point of yelling, records only her being livid, then shows it to our relatives. Still, my mom even stuck with him when his first business failed and we were all homeless - having to stay at my mom's parents' house and my father's younger brother's house. He's the breadwinner and she's been a homemaker for the past 22 years (the length of their official marriage). More recently he's been financially abusing my mom: taking away all funding (cards) and forcing her to rely on her parents' cash... all b/c she couldn't show him a $25 Walmart receipt for underwear (atp, he had a $300k/yr job). He also controls everything from security access, to refusing to let my mom buy groceries by herself, to access to our car, etc. He keeps claiming that he earned it, not her, so he can "take it all away since nothing is [hers]". My younger sister and I are witnesses of him initiating aggression 99 times out of a 100, but he always brings up the one time my mom also lost her cool for the first and last time LAST NOVEMBER. The thing is, his arm wraps around her neck and squeezes; she tries to get him off of her by scratching, but only her self-defense is visible (which he takes pics of). I've tried to defend my mom, and have been pushing him away from when I was 12 to 17 (he stopped last year when my sister and I admitted that I would've called the cops on him already had it not been for my mom stopping me) but now he denies it. For the last year, he keeps reminding my mom that his bare minimum will also cease "one day" and my mom's tired of his BS. The first Thursday after I came home from my dorm for summer break, me and my mom brought divorce up seriously with a 70% completed packet (with me only acting as just her typist because she doesn't own a laptop and I'm 18+). Since then, we've had numerous arguments because he suddenly doesn't want a divorce and claims this came out of nowhere? Finally, he said he's willing to cooperate as long as this doesn't get out. He preached about being proud for not telling anyone, and pleaded my mom to not tell his family before he could do so personally. That was all a setup. For the next week, he plans exactly who to contact, what to say, and what angle to push. It all came to light last night when he not only contacted his own family, but also my mom's side of the family and took no accountability. Then he made a group chat (including my father's younger brother, my father's older brother, my mom's younger sister, and my mom's younger sister's husband) and got mad at my mother for telling us about it? Hypocrisy much? When confronted, he also said that if my sister and I continue supporting my mom's choice, then he wants nothing to do with us anymore and will never again support my (minor) sister. He also said this word for word in our native language to my younger sister and I - "Her father hit her mother, my father hit my mother - you don't see their kids supporting a divorce, do you?" It was also pretty obvious that he was recording parts of our arguments when he tried to frame me by yelling "Don't come onto me" as if I was charging at him when me, my sister, and my mom were talking to him from the second floor catwalk and he was downstairs in the living room 💀. That made it pretty clear he doesn't actually care about anyone in this family unit and only his image getting tarnished with a divorce (pretty taboo in our native country, where everyone in our family but us lives). At first, his angle was that my mom's only leaving him because his currently (second) business venture is causing financial instability... but my mom quickly pointed out if money was the issue, she would've left LONG ago. His angle now is that my mom is bored at home and that's the sole reason for this divorce, so what can he do - "hire 2-3 men to entertain her while [he] works?" He also keeps yapping about how my mom has manipulated us into turning against our own dad... that we keep bringing up things that "happened before [our] birth"... that he's "fighting a different battle" and doesn't need this drama and emotional coupe. ((MINI VENT, OPTIONAL!! first of all, bruh, we're not blind or deaf nor do we have short term memory loss... mom doesn't have to say shit for us to know you're an abusive father cuz ive quite literally gotten hurt from when you pounced on her like an animal. second of all, you've been physically abusing her for 21 years, verbally abusing her for a decade, exerting coercive control for 7 years, financially abusing her for 2 years... and you claim that me and my sister are only talking about things we dont know about from before our birth? lmfao, give me a break. thirdly, none of us wanted drama either; my mom refused to let you get apprehended and get what you deserve, she refused to let me tell our relatives anything, she tried to make sure we still saw you as a good parent no matter what... and that's somehow an emotional coupe? since when??)) When my mom's younger sister's husband pushed back, asking about the time our neighbors literally called the cops on him (he got off luckily then because my mom didn't want to get him into trouble), he lied and said it was only a "visa check-in". Then, he texted family with a major threat - that anyone who supports my mom will face legal harassment from an attorney they already have (backed by the same younger brother mentioned before, who is now pretty powerful in the foreign state where our entire family lives, and has connections in high-up government positions; my father's older brother is no better, and has made his wife have a female sex-selective abortion twice even though it's illegal to check the baby's gender in our native country). Apparently, he's also been talking shit about my mom's side of the family (who literally sold their jewelry when my father was in a tough spot, then housed and fed our family when we had nothing) to my mom's younger sister's husband, calling them cheap of all things 💀. I just can't bring myself to treat him as a father, especially since he's also been threatening to completely cut me off multiple times over the past year before this whole divorce thing was even brought up, and even told me he doesn't consider me his daughter so many times. He knows we all have to rely on him... especially since my mom's degree isn't valid here so she can't work full-time in what she's trained to do, and also because my visa doesn't allow me to work without official federal permission. He keeps complaining about how my mom doesn't work, but every attempt of hers to get a decent job that would sponsor her visa independently has been shut down by him. Most recently, while he invested tens of thousands of dollars in his latest venture that still hasn't turned profit, he refused to pay for the last step of my mom getting her career back - just simple exam fees for a state board exam - after she passed the much harder national exam for internationally trained professionals. Even if I landed something and my mom took on multiple part-time jobs, it won't be enough to pay for my tuition (which is higher than what most students would pay since I'm considered an international student) along with my mom and sister's needs. Before anyone asks why she hasn't left his sorry ass before, she'd have to go back to our country of origin in order to support herself and my sister. They're just so done with my father now, though, that they're willing to move across borders to get away. However, my father also refuses to sign anything, so to officially serve the divorce papers, my mom will need to contact the Sheriff's office to do it officially. Now, that's the only way she can get the divorce process started if he refuses to confirm he was served the papers, but our family would only villainize her for it to hell and back if someone from the Sheriff's office showed up at the place where he rented a cubicle for his startup. If she doesn't decide to initiate a divorce and just decide to leave, the moment they go back to our native country, all of his relatives will show up at their doorstep and try to talk her out of this, harassing her nonstop. Now, I fear them going back. My aunt is now also warning my mother that my father is planning something big and that he can go to any lengths possible. Recently, he also kept yelling "be prepared" and that it's going to get ugly because he's not holding back on telling anyone anything. I'm genuinely scared of this man, and as strong as I'm trying to be, there's only so much I can do. I wanted to finally rat him out, but my mom warned me that if I do that and he ends up behind bars here while we leave for our country of origin, there's no saying what his brothers will pull on them where they can quite literally bribe people to look away (like they've done before). My sister and mom feel like prisoners in their own home and I have no idea how to help them. For now, I'm trying to help all of us go back for at least a month-and-a-half without escalating anything so that my mom can have the support of her family without anyone blaming her for taking action. My sister used to get upset when I matched my father's decibel level, but now with the new lengths he's taking things to, she gets it and no longer blames me. My mom also used to get frustrated with me for being too harsh with my father when he was still pretending to cooperate; but she's so kind with my frustration now that he's pushed us all past the point of empathy. I'm genuinely so, so grateful for both of them for giving me so much grace, and even though I'm still terrified and we still haven't figured out how things will go, I'm more secure knowing who truly cares about me and who's only in it for the image. I just needed to vent all this out to an audience that won't judge me as harshly as the rest of my family back home would :]

My sexual assaults story is uncommon for most and hard to most people to grasp. Who would believe that children are capable of knowing and doing such gruesome things to person? Most children are not like this and their experiences are different. It first happened when I was 8 years old while, my abuser was 7 years old at the time. I remember the abuse happening gradually as we build our friendship. It first started with us doing typical kid stuff like us playing together and joking around. And one day, he asked me to play this new game with him. I said sure. I thought it would be one of those silly jokes stunts of his. Instead he pulled my pants down and rubbed his private part against my bottom. It was really uncomfortable moment for me since, I grew-up in a strict Christian-based family. I have never witness anyone on television or heard of the things he was doing to me. Afterwards, I remember me being shy to tell anyone and feeling like I would get into trouble. So I remained quiet. How would any parent react if you see children engaging in sexual behavior? Wouldn't you automatically assume it was the oldest child to teach someone this behavior? This went on for almost 2 years. His behavior became more advance and his request got more weirder. One time, he begged me to drink his pee directly from his part. I told him no. And he stomped across the room mad. He kept persisting and demanding that I try it. Eventually, I gave in but, I told him only from a cup. It was the most dehumanizing experiences of my life. It was not long afterwards, that my father caught us. I remember me trying shove the boy off of me. And telling him that my dad was coming and he kept going harder and harder. I guess he thought I was lying to convince him to get off of me. He wouldn't stop until my father walked into the room.

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 don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

i made a vow to myself that i would prove my mother wrong—that i am none of the things she said, and that one day i would become a successful person and let her know that i made it despite her. i refused to give any of the people who did me harm any power over me. being defeated, miserable, or staying in a state of depression would be allowing them to win. i could not give them a reason to think they had an effect on me. i wanted to be the best version of myself and to empower other people when the time presented itself. i now have my power back. i am no longer ashamed of what happened to me. i am now comfortable in my own body. this body has been through a lot, but now i look at it as armor. i may have been wounded. i may have some scars, but they are only reminders of what i survived. i still have my soul, and my mind is intact. when i look at myself in the mirror all i can do is smile and admire who i am, and how far i've come. i won. i won because i did not allow those people to rob my soul. i did not let them steal my chance at love, or of being the best person i can. instead i became a healer, a warrior, a lover, a leader, and a proud mother. i am who i am because god loved me, and i learned how to love myself. and when everyone thought i was defeated… i rose up. survivor

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

I somehow got myself on Tinder at 16 years old. I know, not very smart of me but all my friends were on it at the time and I didn't think about it. I met someone who told me he was also underage, he claimed he was 17. He seemed perfect. We went on a date to a pumpkin patch, we got sushi at a restaurant, and after he came to my home to carve pumpkins. Everything was going so well. We were watching a movie and he asked us to move to my room. Honestly, I didn't really want to but I agreed and we went to my room. His demeanor changed immediately, suddenly he was cocky and dominant. We had sex which I had agreed to even if I felt pressured. Suddenly he put his penis in my anus, pulled it out after a few times, and put it back into my vagina. I was shocked, I was confused. Did that just happen? Is that normal? I am so grateful for the human survival instincts because I mostly checked out. But I remember him saying "You could at least act like you're enjoying it". Still, I didn't react. When he was done he got up and went to get a towel, I asked him to turn on the light and he said "Are you sure? You might not want to see the bed it's going to be graphic." I didn't understand and wanted the light on anyway. My white comforter was covered in blood and had feces stains on it. "wow" I felt embarrassed. He said it was normal. We went back into the living room and a few minutes later he left. Next, I threw out my comforter and went to my best friend's house. She had her older friend over. I told them what happened and they were shocked. Both of these girls were sexually experienced, and they told me that is not normal. You don't have anal sex by accident. You don't have anal sex without a discussion first. You don't "slip" into someone's anus which is the excuse I had thought up for him, "maybe he slipped?". They assured me it was not an accident that happens. I told the older girl his name, Name, it turns out she knows him and he is not 17. He told her he was 20. When he came over to her house before he was really pushy to have sex and her dog hated him so she kicked him out. My dog also hated him. Moving forward I reached out to him, he wasn't responding to my messages, then he said he was sorry but he's not looking for anything relationship-wise, he didn't want to see me again. At this point it started to become clearer "I might have been raped". I spent about 2 years going back and forth between did that really happen, was it rape, was it my fault, did I ask for it? A few days after the rape my vagina became swollen. I know, I'm sorry for the detail but it is crucial to the story. I went to the student based health center my school worked with because I did not want my parents to know I had sex. They did a test on me and I had bacterial vaginosis. The nurse said I had "bacteria that looked like a blooming flower inside of me.", this is because he went from my anus to my vagina a few times and I was bloody. Luckily it was an easy fix with some antibiotics. Another thing that confirmed something seriously wrong had happened. I spent 2 years of my life Junior and Senior years of high school in bed and I do not remember my high school time fully. I slept, I rotted, I removed my bed frame from my room in a mental breakdown, I rearranged my bed to different positions in my room, and I changed mattresses. Nothing was helping me. Eventually, I changed rooms. I began to resent my own home. I did not feel like I had a safe space. I started to be rude to my parents, I was mean when they would not let me go out, and I was snappy anytime. I skipped dinner, and avoided family time. In addition, I stopped going to school. I missed so many days of school, that they sent a letter that they might have a police officer come to our house to do a welfare check. My mom would drop me off at school, I would wait for her to drive away, and I would walk back home to go lay in bed. Until she started to wait until I got inside and then I would maybe go to one class and then walk home. My two best friends started to come to my window on school days and they would knock on my window to try and get me to come to class. One of them, my bestest friend in the world, would continuously knock on my window until I let her into my house. I also have barky dogs so they would be going crazy barking and I had to let her in, she also literally would not leave or stop knocking until I let her in. No matter how disgusting, and horribly messy my room was (I am talking can not see the floor, obstacles to the bed, garbage, huge piles of clothes, deep clothes on the floor) she would sit with me on my mattress on the floor. She would lay with me, she would cuddle me, she would make me watch videos with her on her phone. She would skip school for me. She would eventually coax me into leaving the house, going with her to get coffee, get food, go drive around, go to her house, go adventure outside in the woods together. I can't imagine what would have happened without her. She never made me feel like a victim, always let me talk about the gross details, and let me be my gross rotting self at this time, she made me laugh, she made me feel happy when I was so depressed, and didn't even really know why. As in I was still confused, still unsure if I was actually raped. Eventually, my school told me I would have to repeat my senior year. They never asked me what was wrong, they just told me I was failing bad. I had met a new guy at this time who became my boyfriend, he ended up cheating on me so I can't make him too nice in this story but at this time, he was really helpful, and beneficial, he taught me what real safe sex is and what it is supposed to be and feel like. It is communication, consent, mutual good feelings, and love. I want to add that when I did have sex with him for the first time after the rape my hands locked up. A physical result of trauma, I couldn't open up my hands, I was scared and not of him, but my body responded to this intimate act happening again. It was his first time having sex and I like to consider it my real first time too. He did not "slip" into my anus. Becuase that does not happen. After this, it clicked to me that I was anally raped. I had always searched on Google, Instagram, and anywhere I could for information on anal rape, and I could never find it. I wanted to be confirmed and validated. I wanted to find someone who had experienced the same thing I had and I still have not found it (4 years later). I only saw things about male prison rape. I am making a face right now that is not what I was looking for. Moving forward, one of my friends' sisters started dating the man who raped me a few days later. She messaged me and asked about him. I didn't tell her he raped me but I wish I did. Later on, I saw her at a party, a few drinks in, I went up to her and said I have a really personal question I need to ask. She said absolutely. I asked her if Name (the rapist) had tried to do anal with her. She whipped her head around and said "Yeah! He tried to during sex and I stopped him, I freaked out on him I was so upset.". Everything clicked for me in that moment and I am forever grateful for her and her honesty. She was a turning point in my healing. She confirmed what I had been questioning for years. My at the time boyfriend had gone to a high school that was inclusive, they had personalized education, and they really cared about their students. It was called School Name. He told me I should apply, they work with credit recovery and he thought it would be perfect to help me graduate. He was right. I applied to School Name, they asked me why I was failing high school. I told them I was raped at 16 and I stopped going to school. I told them I didn't want to repeat my senior year. I told them no one at my other high school asked about what was going on in my personal life. The woman on the phone said they could get me to graduate on time and that they could support me. My best friend who helped me through this time also transferred to this school. The two of us were in a new high school in our senior year. School Name changed my life. I enjoyed going to school again, I felt supported, and I was treated like I was smart and not like I was a delinquent who couldn't care less about their future. Every teacher in that building wanted me to succeed and I could feel it. I was in credit recovery programs, taking tests to prove I had the knowledge needed to graduate. My best friend and I finished high school early. It was a great feeling even though I graduated with a 2.3 GPA. Now I am sitting here writing this in a community college with my 21st birthday a few weeks away, and I have finally reached the point where I can think about the rape and not hit myself in the head until I stop thinking about it. I think about the rape and my rapist every day of my life since. I have always wanted to share my story and now I am looking for platforms to share it. I want someone else who was anally raped to be able to read my story, I want someone to be able to feel seen and heard like I wanted and needed. But for any rape survivor, I want you to know that eventually, you will be able to live with this new normal. I won't say "it gets better" because I am not sure that it does, frankly I do not think it does get better, it just becomes something you adapt to. I have gone to therapy and I am in therapy again now. I continue to try and put the work in to heal. I still think about it every day but I am finally less reactive. I still shudder and get angry every time I see his name somewhere. I will never be with someone named Name again. I shudder when I see someone who resembles him in any way. I am afraid of men. I don't like to go on dates, I don't like to be too close to a man, I don't want to be in a room alone with a man, I get angry or uncomfortable when a strange man on the street looks at me for too long, if they compliment me, if they try to have a conversation, or if they flirt. I have attachment and abandonment issues. I don't know if this will ever get better but it is a part of my new normal. Who I was before my rape is no longer me. I have accepted the fact that I am a new person and that I have to get to know myself again. I lost a lot of friends during my time of isolation, I have a hard time keeping a job, and I struggle to do well in school even though I really want to succeed. My depression is overwhelming most days. I want Name to be in a jail cell. I want him to be labeled as the rapist he is, I want him to suffer honestly. I want him to never be able to get a job. I hate him and I hate that he gets to live free and possibly enjoy his life. I hate that he probably still finds new victims. I did report him to the police, but nothing came of it. I also reported him to the Department of Human Services for abuse in my state, and nothing came of it. But I did my part, I can only hope that someone else reports him like I did and they see a flag in their system that he has done this before. I still see him on dating apps, he goes by his middle name now, and he is bisexual. I feel he used me as a test subject. When I was younger I would harass him online from fake accounts on Instagram. I told him that he was gay and that he should be a real man and find a guy to hook up with instead of torturing innocent girls. I told him I know everyone he has raped, even though I don't. I told him karma would catch up to him, and that someone will get you eventually. I told him he is a terrible person, but he never admitted what he did or owned up to it. I would like to think I can move on with my life but this is my story. It is a part of me now, it is why I act the way I do, and it is an explanation for most things in my life. I recently moved out on my own and got my own apartment. I thought I just didn't like having people over at my childhood home because it was the home I was raped in. My family moved out of that house and moved states. And now in my new house, my own personal space, I still can not invite anyone over. It is hard for me to have even just girlfriends, my friendly neighbor, or my best friend over. I do not allow guests to come over, and I never invite a date over. It is a huge step for me to have someone in my home and that is his fault. I only made this connection this year. I am afraid of having my space claimed by anyone else again. Wow, it felt good to get all of that out. It is hard to speak about and share my story when I do not have the justice I would like. It is hard to learn about the justice system when it is supposed to protect you and it does not. It is hard to think that so many people are raped so often. I am angry and I want change. I don't really know what kind of change but something. I wish I didn't have to live in so much anger and fear but that is also a part of my new normal. I am antsy, I can't help but look over my shoulder frequently when I am in public, and I can't help but worry about unlikely things. But I am adapting and you will too. Sending love to you.

DECADES When I was 22 years old, I was on a college campus with my finance and decided to go out to the car at 11 pm to get the left over cake we had brought from dinner. I man walked near me and I said hi, and proceeded to get the cake. The man came up behind me and flipped me to the ground trying to rape me. I screamed, time slowed down and I remember hearing my Mom say that my car keys are a weapon so I started jabbing him with them. I struggled free, ran to a building, falling on my way. A driver arrived who heard my screams from blocks away and the police were called. The police even thought they got him and showed me several photos of similar looking men, but I couldn’t make a positive id, so he was set free. After this sexual assault, I bought a gun, moved in with my fiancé, took self-defense classes, read books, saw a psychologist who diagnosed me with PTSD due to overwhelming anxiety that paralyzed me. The world was no longer safe. It resulted in triggers, and brought back my first sexual assault as a teenager in a crowded bus in another country of an older man pressing his erection against me as I keep moving away from him toward the front of the bus, until I finally found another teenage who I could sit on her lap to get this stranger to stop. It has been 64 years since I was attacked in that parking lot. I have been happily married for 64 years and have a positive self image. BUT, I still can’t wear skirts. I still can’t go in parking lots alone at night and am uneasy going anywhere at night. I can’t watch a movie or play that has sexual assault or the anxiety becomes overwhelming. I still own the same gun.

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!

It was Halloween and I spent it with my mom and my god mom's family. I was good friends with my god mom's 3 nephews, one was my age, and the other two were 2-3 years older. After we were done trick or treating, we all went back to their house and played for a bit. One of them, we'll call him R made it a game to scare me the whole night- creeping up on me, yelling in my face, just overall being weird to me. I was really tired and it was late, so R had convinced me to sleepover at their house and we all sleep in one room on pillows and blankets on the floor. I initially refused because I thought it was weird since my mom told me not to share sleeping areas with people of the opposite gender, but he once again scared me into doing it anyway. The door to the hallway stayed cracked just wide enough to see inside the room. It was probably about 3 hours into the night where he told me to take my jeans off so I could get more comfortable, since I'd been moving around since we laid down. I didnt want to, so he did it for me. He was stronger and I didn't want to make a scene so I let him, and after he pulled my shirt up as well. After R did the same to himself he then told the cousin the same age as me to take his off too and put himself on me, which he refused to do and fell asleep instead. R was touching me by then and he wouldn't let me fall asleep. Every time I did, he would pinch or squeeze me and scratch at my body. I remember he got mad at me because since I didnt have my first period, I was kind of missing the part he was looking for, but that didnt stop him. I remember waking up with my clothes still off and dried fluids on my thighs amd waist. I never told anyone, and forgot probably around a day later. Whenever I would talk to him after that happened, he would either spoil me with toys and snacks or be rude and shun me. I was so confused on why until I randomly remembered what happened. He treated me like I was different from everyone else, was always touchy and making fun of me when I started puberty. Now knowing what happened, I feel sick. I ended up becoming hypersexual after everything happened and I would often put myself in risky situations with older guys and anyone else who would give me the time of day. It disrupted my whole life and I didnt know it until now. Its been years since then and I feel like I should be over it, but im not. Im scared to get help because that means I'll have to tell my parents, I dont want them to be mad at me because I hadn't said anything sooner or for them to think im lying because it was so long ago. How do I get over it without any help? Its starting to mess with my daily life and im tired of the flashbacks and nightmares.

I wrote this letter to my uncle who has always played the victim. Dear Uncle X, It has been 28 years of this haunting everyone involved and after all this time I have never spoken up directly about this because I did not want to stir the pot, but now I feel it must be said because I cannot have this haunting my family anymore and you keeping attacking us. Up until the first incident you were my favourite uncle, the one I would gravitate to, I bet you never knew that. Yet you were also my first sexual encounter, the first time I ever felt an erection, the first person I was terrified of. I remember walking up the stairs slowly trying to get to the bathroom and you would call me into your bedroom and pull me under the covers, I remember feeling your erection against my backside, while you patted me, this happened on many occasions. I remember sleeping on the couch and feeling your breath on my face as you stuck your tongue in my ear, I remember the shock and fear of this. I remember the feel of your hands on my buttocks and my breasts, I remember you putting my own small hands in your lap. I remember hiding in the bathroom with the chain lock in place and you pushing yourself against the other side of the door asking what I was doing in there, while I watched your eyes try to see past the lock. I remember pushing the dresser against the door in the front bedroom and hoping you didn’t come in, hiding with my cousins and little sister. I also remember how it felt to be told by my own grandmother not to say anything if I wanted our family to stay together. I remember the call my parents got in the middle of the night and being told over the phone that this was happening to us, months after telling our grandmother, aunt and uncle about the incidences. I remember hearing my mom scream and my dad yell, I remember my brothers’ eyes as he stood at the bottom of the stairs wanting to leave to find you, but stopping because my dad, your older brother was crying at the top of the stairs. I remember the fear, excitement and relief that they finally knew, but I also remember listening to my own mother crying and trying to hid it from us, while she blamed herself for not protecting us from you. I remember that many who new choose to blame us for your actions. I remember sitting in front of a stranger in a closed room while I told them what you did to us. I remember hugging my little sister, who tried to stay strong and protect me while I felt guilty that I could not protect her. Does this sound like a girl who seduced their uncle (as grandma would say), who had the devil in their eye? who is being vindictive and ruining your life? You were supposed to protect us yet you didn’t and worse yet you blamed us for it. You played the victim, you played the one who is hurt by all this and claims it had destroyed your life. You who got married and had kids and owns a house, you who has gotten to have most of your siblings stand by your side back then. You have managed to convince your wife that we seduced you. I was the oldest and only 12, a very young naive 12-year-old, my sister was the youngest at 10, four children, four people who got their lives forever altered because of your sexual urges. Imagine for a moment that this was your child or your step children who were being molested and people who new blamed them for it, saying they seduced a full-grown man, then try to imagine that person coming back over and over again saying that your child is lying, that it is their fault and that they ruined that grown man’s life, that is what it has been like for us over and over again. Your actions have taken its toll on us. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your own grandmother say you had the devil in you? Do you know what’s it’s like to have letters written saying they believed we acted inappropriate and that we won’t be coming around their husbands because we would seduce them? We were just children. One week after my own wedding my mother had to kick my grandmother off the front lawn while she screamed at my parents that “if we had of been raised right this would have never happened” in front of our neighbours. My own honeymoon was darkened because you both thought we should help relieve your lives. Everything in my life changed in an instant, it changed the first time you choose to act out your sexual urges on children. I cannot speak on the other victims behaves, but I will say this, look at the other victims, look at their current lives and where they have ended up and know that their lives could have been different if you had of keep it your pants. Each one of us has been fighting their own demons over this part of our lives, you let others attack us verbally because you were a coward and choose to let children take the blame for your urges, you let the family be destroyed because you would not do the right thing. I spent many hours trying to come to terms with it all and the damage it caused me. I struggled with it every day, it is not just the inappropriate touching but the way it was handled. It’s the way you and grandma and the ones who knew made me feel about myself. Not once have you stood up and said you did wrong, you choose to blame children instead of admitting it was you. I am 40 years old now, I have two wonderful children and I have a great career as a Registered Nurse in an acute care setting. I managed to get my degree in Bachelor of Science in Nursing, a diploma in Pre-Health Science as well as a diploma in Medical Office Administration, all with honours, and I did all of this as a divorced, single, full-time mom. I have had many ups and downs but I am strong, I am a fighter, I am smart, compassionate, and most of all one heck of a mother to my children. Your actions will no longer have weight on my life, it will no longer define me, it will no longer be something I survived, I choose to triumph and rise above it, I choose to forgive my extended family for their parts because I choose to love me. It is funny though, the one line that sticks out throughout the entire CAS file, which is 32 pages in length is the you stated, “I’m touching you because I need a girlfriend,” this one reason is why our lives were forever changed. signing me.

I have suffered psychological abuse from my mother since I was little. Because of this, I have a habit of always thinking about what my mother thinks, and I feel like I have lost myself in trying to please her. I work at restaurants , but I am exhausted from trying not to make the atmosphere at work bad or being disliked, and even working is painful. I registered on Dating app because I wanted to escape from my mother, but I am only used and rejected, and I can't see any hope for the future.

i never thought it would happen again. naive, i went about life hurt but relieved in some ways. i tried to grow in trust. i should have trusted myself. i should have trusted my inclination not to trust. you hurt me. you said it was lust. you said it overcame you. i never thought i would write about it. never thought i would address it. if only i could just erase it. erase the memories. erase the hurt.

The way we learn about sexual abuse needs to be changed in schools because that’s where it started and I didn’t even realise. Small things that seemed like not a huge deal led to the shaping of my own attitude towards what is acceptable behaviour. When I was 14 during pe, a boy smacked my arse so hard with a table tennis racket it left a mark, I was so embarrassed and so self conscious that I said nothing. The next situation was when I was 16 and I had a younger first year student pinching my bum whenever the hallway was crowded, I could never catch who it was but I knew it was a smaller person in a younger year, it was like a game for them but I was uncomfortable, again it didn’t seem so bad and what would I even say if I were to tell someone? The next incident happened a few months later during a group project where we the students were in a room alone, I was standing talking to a boy the same age as me, I was in the middle of giving my opinion on the project which he clearly wasn’t listening to because he suddenly grabbed me and “jokingly” shook his head between my boobs. I was shocked, and so was everyone else but it had happened and that was that, I left the room upset but also worried I was being too dramatic, our group dynamic had been so good up until that point and I didn’t want to ruin it over this “small” thing so I said nothing, the boy apologised but it was already done, he later asked me to not tell people what happened because it was upsetting for him. These incidents all occurred in an environment where the incidents themselves never stood out, there were girls in my year who’s nudes had spread like wildfire, girls who were more developed than others with boobs and a bum who were labelled sluts purely because of their appearance, I myself got attention from boys and attention could only be positive surely? I was almost thankful that I was being accepted even if it meant I was being objectified and at times mistreated, I couldn’t see clearly at the time, I thought attention that made me uncomfortable was better than nothing. With school in the past I entered my first year of college, I’d had a healthy relationship before that had ended at this point and I’d had sex with only this boy so I felt ok with the thought of it with a new person. I was 19 and there was a boy in my class who I was head over heels for, my heart stopped whenever I saw him. I bumped into him on a night and the feeling was mutual, he gave me a kiss and I couldn’t believe it I was so excited I texted my friends and made plans to see the guy the following week. I saw him again on another night out and we kissed and he asked if I wanted to go back to his house so I said yes. I said yes Ready to have sex with this person. We went back to his house and we started, he was a bit rougher than my previous partner and didn’t take things as slow as I was used to but I didn’t want to cause an issue so I didn’t say anything. Penetration happened faster than I anticipated and it was uncomfortable and then painful but he kept going and I felt tears on my face I was in agony, he stopped eventually. I could tell he was annoyed he didn’t finish so I let him essentially have sex with my mouth, I wasn’t actively giving him oral sex. He got what he wanted out of the situation and I was lying there wondering what I had done so wrong, for him it was just a bad shag and for me it was feeling like I had been torn open, I wish I had said no sooner during the act. I got dressed in the dark and went home, I went to use the toilet and pulled my trousers down and my legs were covered in blood, my heart stopped. I got cleaned up and threw my underwear in the bin and went to bed my body still sore. The next morning instead of going to class I went to my gp. I told her a small lie and said I had a new boyfriend and we had rough sex and I was a bit sore, so she checked me and said I had a cut on my area, she told me to take a painkiller and to take it easy and off I went. Later that day the boy texted me, what a relief maybe this will fix the shitty feeling I have. He texted me to say I got blood on his bedsheets…and I apologised. He quickly moved on with his life flirting with other girls and having better sex than he did with me and I dwelled on it for a long time. I couldn’t have sex properly for a long time, whenever I tried my body shut down, my legs would shake uncontrollably and I would tighten up, I would have panic attacks and the whole time I felt bad for the men I was trying to sleep with, it was always my problem. When I met my current partner I told him what happened, I still didn’t know what to call it, just a bad experience. We took it slow, he was very understanding and let me get back to penetrative sex in my own time, allowing me to get to a point where I could actually enjoy it. My sex life is positive now, my partner and I have a healthy relationship. The incident years ago with the boy in college meant a long period of panic inducing sexual experiences but I think the cause began long before him. The attitude and entitlement of the boys in my formative teenage years had a lasting impact on me. It made me believe I had little to say in what happened to my body, whether I was allowed to enjoy sexual experiences and took away my voice where I could say NO. I think a different experience in school would’ve meant things would’ve gone differently with the boy in college because I still don’t know what to call it, for me it wasn’t rape because I never said no, my body says otherwise, my body felt what happened and shut down from it, it took years to recover. I’m glad I’m where i am now, my hope is that teenage girls get more support in school than I did.

A girl with normal ups and downs. I think every human being in this world face too many things in their life especially at the age of 12 to a phase of life when he/she feel fed up from this world. We can share only our stories and think that only our life is difficult. But in this world, everyone has similar stories. So there is a story of a girl who phases too many ups and downs in her life, maybe it was normal or other but these phases are worst for her. A situation is not for same to all of us, some situation is very easy for somebody, and that same situation is very harsh for somebody. But in this world of judgemental bodies, we fear to take any step or share our things with friends and family. But in reality, nobody care they talk about you for only a few days, even your family. But you are the only one who can handle your problem. A girl born at City in the 20th century. This generation really feels all the changes in society. The girl named Survivor. When she born everyone feels “Ohio Ek or ldki ho gai”. But there is a man in his life who says she is my daughter and I am lucky to have one more daughter. On another hand, the mother of that girl starts crying that she has one more daughter. Somewhere in this world, there is a place, who signs that parents who have two daughters are not a good sign. Because nobody can care for them in their old age. People say “ab tere budhape ka kya hoga”. After few years, everyone pressurizes her parents that plan one more baby, they give some treatment to born a baby boy. I think people need a lecture on biology. Her mother is ready to do everything for a boy, but still, she failed to get a baby boy. The upbringing of this girl is not that loving and caring which normally all kids get from everyone. In the morning her mother handover to that girl to her aunt and her aunt lay her on the bed with the dog. She is all alone the whole day with no toys. When she starts entering her teenage now she saw a fight all time again she is alone, she doesn’t know what’s actually happened. Her mother fights all day with her father, sister, and others. It's like her daily tonic. Her mother has some mental disorder so everyone convenience that girl It's ok beta "Teri maa to hai hi aasi". It's really easy for others to say this, but after listing all these things from childhood, she lost all her connection with her mother. She never sits with her mother even to ask that how are you?... It never happened, not only once. Nobody can imagine the loneliness of her heart from childhood. Yes her elder sister was there but she also faces this problem. She is 5 years elder than her. Her sister is also busy with her own problems with her own friends. The father of these girls also avoids staying home, to spend some time with his daughter. Now his both daughter need love & care. (Every human being in this world needs love to survive in this world). They start finding love outside the family. The elder sister got her love in the school when she was in 9th standard. And Survivor is in 4th standard, actually, at that point in time, she doesn’t know what love is. Her sister is also not there to understand her. She is still alone mentally in this world. Now she makes some friends but her family changes her school she lost all her friends. Now she is alone again. The new school was big than the older one. Some kids bully her for her background of the last school, the way she talks, etc., etc. Now the social media trends come into this world, Facebook is at its peak of trend. Everyone in school talking about Facebook. Now the Survivor is also excited about Facebook. She asks her sister about Facebook. Her sister helps her to make an id of her. Now she starts using Facebook, but her sister does not guide her like don’t talk to strangers about anything. When we start something new everyone is so much excited about that new thing, she is also excited. After all, after too many years she got someone to talk and she gets. One day she gets around 50 friend requests from different boys and girls. At that point in time, there is a craze that to become cool and that have more friends, he/she is cooler. And that girl is all alone from childhood she needs somebody to talk to, So she starts accepting the friend request. In this trend of social media, she met with a boy in the same city. The boy's name is Friend. Friend was elder than her. She was very immature and she needs love and care. So she starts sharing her all thoughts with her. The boy was mature and elder as well, he knows that how to handle the situation maybe he can understand her. Friend is always online, he is a smart, cool & lovable guy for Survivor. She always feels a unique attachment with him. One day she confesses her feeling to him and he rejected her because she immature and they never met. But still, both of them are in touch. They continue their chatting, talking, sharing thoughts. She was just waiting for that 1-2 hr time when she talks to Friend. This going for a year. After one year maybe the guy feel the same thing for her, now he purposed to her, she was very happy to saw his message, “hey I wanna say something, can you please become my wife”. This line change her all-time lonely world into a princess world where a prince waiting for her, Every relationship is very good in starting phase, then ups and downs are coming in Friend’s life and the relationship is going in the wrong direction. She always ready to do everything which makes her bf happy, everything. She feels very connected with him. She never feels that much connection even with her family. After 5 years, Friend suddenly calls at 5 AM, and finishes all the things due to a small misunderstanding. She didn’t get a chance to clarify something. He blocks her from his life and all social media platform. She is alone again. The most beautiful part of her life was gone in a second. She broke into uncountable pieces. Her investment of 5 years was zero even negative returns she gets. But all human beings need love and care to survive in this world. To be countinued......