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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 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.

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 got drugged on a festival and ultimately it ended up with me performing sex with a stranger without me even being conscious. I went to the festival with three of my friends. One was already asleep when a drunk guy came to our tents. He was searching for his friend, he said but then he asked if he could stay with us a bit. He was kinda funny and pretty drunk so we thought as a group that it would be okay to give him some water and let him be with us a bit. After some time my remaining awake friends said they wanted to shower and left me alone. That's the last thing I can remember clearly. The rest is in snippets. I can remember him giving me something to drink and I drank. Then I remember him kissing me. And ultimately I woke up the next morning, naked in his tent. My friends searched for me the whole night and were really pissed, that I went with him, without telling anybody and I felt horrible for making them feel that way, so I kinda forgot that I had no memories of this incident and thought for a year or so that I was just a really bad friend, who walked off with a random drunk guy and made my friends worry. Just after that first year I started dating my SO and told him the story. He looked at me, hugged me tightly and said that this is awful. That's the first time I thought about the incident a bit more and tried to understand what happened. It was a shock for me, that he got angry at my friends because in my book they were the ones that did nothing wrong. The more I thought about though, the more I understood: he gave me some kind of drug, that basically knocked me out and had sex with me. I got raped. And this was even more of a shock. I'm still in my healing process. The memories sometimes still haunt me but way less then they did before. I still feel ashamed sometimes but I'm at a point where I can turn the train of thought around and tell myself that I don't have to be. I really hope that sharing my story will help others in one way or another and I can certainly say that it will help me be more open with my story.

I don't know how to start, it's just I am having pms rn and I can't help but feel disgusted. It was my cousin brother. We have been close since childhood. We used to do all kinds of things that you would usually do with your brother. I used to live far, I with my fam used to visit their fam. I still remember the last conversation we had when I last visited him before covid, we were talking about him getting a gf and Me getting a bf just normal conversation. After covid, in 2022 I moved. It was near where he lived. He came to stay naturally, just like we would hang out daily and eat out and had fun. One day, I was laying down with him. All the days, he stayed with us. I used to sleep with him in the same bed. But that it was a nightmare. Out of nowhere he started putting his hand on my stomach. He started touching me over my underwear and in between my thighs. I froze on place. I couldn't think anything I was begging God please don't let him go further. He was trying to open my underwear and touching around it. I pulled away his hand. He still brought it again in between my thighs. Then after sometime he stopped. I continued sleeping there..ik it was the dumbest thing but yk how it is, you freeze in a place, you can't think right. I didn't shout or anything. I was just stunned and didn't know anything that I could do then. Next day, I woke up I literally felt it was a dream but I had a clear memory. Very clear memory Long time, it felt like I was at fault.. for sleeping in bed with him, for not shouting, for not reacting enough, for never speaking up about it to me. I was just disgusted and decided to talk to my friends. They made me understand it's not me, it was him. It was not something he could do without any intention. Its been 3 years, only my closest friends know, my parents don't know. I don't know whether he remembers it or not. It doesn't matter. It was something so disgusting and it stays with till today. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I stay away from him and made sure to never have a good connection with him ever after that. He once blackmailed me with something I didn't know. He just randomly started telling me he knows what I did. And called one of his friend saying that I will give 500 rupees and you give me that thing. I don't even know what it was about. But he is the most disgusting person to ever exist. His idea about woman disgusts me and how he keeps his gf too. I wish the old me would have done something then But I am so glad I understand myself more than anything and bring that up will only cause harm in my slowly healing life

I survived. I got out. You can too. Insidious and devious are the words I think of when I've wondered how I got trapped. My ex-spouse was so charming, everybody thought he was a great person and I did too. So much so that I decided to ignore the fact he raped me and chalked it up to us drinking. Then gradually as we dated and then married he tried to spin a web of control around me by being angry and violent when I would spend time with friends or go to the gym or go to the library to study. Telling me I was not allowed to go to the gym because there were men there. Being told I couldn't go to work events. Calling my work when I was working late and accusing me of having affairs, then being verbally and physically abusive. He was so successful at manipulating others even my dad, initially, didn't believe me when I told him about the monster and the horrible things I had endured. I finally told my dad what had been going on when he threatened to kill me and chased me with a baseball bat. I was able to get in my car and get away and called my dad crying and screaming. He thought I had lost my mind. Some of my friends also thought I had lost it, and told me oh he is so nice and scoffed when I said I was filing for divorce and a protective order. After the first two calls to the sheriff they believed me and were so kind, frequently driving by my house and making sure I was safe. There is power in being believed. There is strength in knowing that others have made it out both alive and eventually became whole. I still experience occasional flashbacks and certain situations will trigger my anxiety, but I am able to trust people again and no longer fear "being in trouble" if I spend time with friends. Even more, I have allowed myself to become emotionally vulnerable with other people again after all these years. That was a huge leap for me. And I genuinely feel like a good person again.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

I was 17 years old and I started working at Location 1. I was estranged from my family and I was living house the house and getting a job to try to finish high school and to get my own place.So I was going to school all day and working from 3 to 11 every night. Back then the minimum wage was under two dollars an hour so you can only imagine how hard I had to work to save. The manager of the company had a disability with his hand so he wasn’t able to do much physical stuff with that particular hand. So we come to work and he would pick on just a few girls but mainly me. Yell and scream at me he called me names he called me horrible sexual names he tell me that I was no good and then I had to go clean toilets for four hours or I’ll be fired. And he would follow me into the women’s restroom and try to put his hands on me and he wouldn’t stop talking about things sexually. I felt so uncomfortable I felt scared I was 17 I didn’t know what to do. This went on repeatedly being trapped in the room in the ladies room or being trapped in the corner of the kitchen always having his hands all over me I did everything I could to pull myself away from him but he kept touching me and if I was pulling myself away he would start swearing and calling me horrendous names while he continued to threatening my job. He threaten to call the police because I was 17 he threaten to call the state if I didn’t let him touch me and kiss me. I was so scared I was so worried and I just kept pulling myself away from him as he was literally throwing himself on me and it was just horrifying he was touching me everywhere he was trying to kiss me he was pushing me down and I just despised going to work the next day because I knew it would happen all over again. I was so scared that he was going to fire me and report me to the state for being a minor. But after Seven days and my first paycheck I just couldn’t go back anymore. So I just didn’t go back I didn’t call I just didn’t show up. I am 55 years old and still affects me to this day. Then it continued my next job was a team working for Person 1 in Location 2. The Person 2 used to corner me in the copy room with your hands on me and one went as far as following me home again terrified. He sexually assaulted me and I never said anything I just never went back to work again. Then I took a job in wises supermarket and Location 3 in the meat and bakery department thinking I could be away from people. And the meat butcher used to corner me in the freezer he’s trying to kiss me constantly is putting his hands on me he’s constantly sexual comments it just never ended I managed to push through for a year of putting up with that but then eventually I quit. I went to school for nursing and then I got a job working with doctors and they did the same thing one particular doctor or dentist would body shame me make me feel like I was less of a woman but then he would make comments about my Feminine body parts continually. It just got to the point where I felt like there was just no way around this if I wanted to work I had to put up with it. I wish things were different back then like they are today. The PTSD that I suffer is tremendous. But I would love to be able to help others

He would break up with me and then win me back. This went on for over a year. We were staying at a local hotel for the weekend to celebrate his birthday. We got into an argument in public so I went back to the hotel room by myself. I didn’t let him back in the hotel room when he first got back and instead, packed up all of his belongings. Once I let him in, he threw some of his things. I asked him to leave. He got on his phone. I asked him to leave again and he pushed me down onto my back. He proceeded to punch me over and over again in my eye and head. After the first punch, I said “I’m sorry, please stop”. His response was, “so NOW you’re sorry”. When he finally stopped, I immediately ran to the wall and got crouched down, as blood gushed out of my nose. I again pleaded for him to leave as he cussed at me. He did leave after that. He broke my orbital floor in my eye and my finger. I filed a protective order and was granted it for a year.

I experienced COCSA, but no one really takes it seriously. This isn't my only experience of sexual violence. I was forcibly sexually assaulted at 19 by a friend, someone tried to kidnap me as a kid for presumably sexual reasons, I experienced sexual harassment from peers in secondary school for years because my bullies figured out sexual topics made me uncomfortable, I faced creeps following me home, old men commenting on my body when I was around 11 and one asking me to "dance" for him, faced people online trying to groom me into sending nudes when I was still a minor (fortunately I never took any). Plenty of non sexual trauma and abuse on top of that. But, for me, the COCSA was the worst trauma. I don't know why that one impacts me so much. We were just kids and he couldn't have fully understood the damage he was causing, so why was it the hardest one to cope with? I always hesitate to use the words "sexual abuse" when I talk about this, but in terms of what it did to my brain, that's what it was. When I was 6, a boy my age would take me into a part of the playground hidden from anyone else and would make me suck his penis. I'd say no, that it was gross, I didn't want to. But he was one of my only friends at the time, and I was terrified of losing friends because I was experiencing a lot of difficult things at home. It didn't start off like this, we had become friends for a bit before this and he leaned me into it. First by doing normal kid things like showing me his genitals, progressing to asking me to touch it, then lick it, suck it, and once even bite it. I still remember how it felt, and it still fills me with panic. It wasn't painful or anything, it just felt absolutely horrible and wrong. He would threaten to embarrass me and not be my friend, and would also say he loved me and I had to suck his penis to prove I loved him back. He would keep asking until I gave in, and because we were in a isolated part of the playground I didn't feel I could just walk away, especially since he was known for being violent (though had never physically hurt me). Its what people who love each other do, he said once. He was a bully, and when I did it he would laugh and tell me that he didn't really like me but maybe he would if I did it again. He'd do this with his friend who would watch. I don't think that other boy really understood why he was doing that to me, I didn't. But the one doing it at least understood that it upset me and didn't care, because he would laugh at me when he made me upset. It often feels so stupid that I am even experiencing any trauma from this. We were both kids, and it feels like it was my fault for not resisting more or not just walking away. But I didn't know what was happening, and I was really vulnerable and lonely at that time. I just wanted a friend. This continued until I was 7. I don't entirely blame him. To me, he's more akin to a bully rather than an abuser. But I do blame his parents for allowing him porn access since the age of 5, I blame his father for teaching his son misogynistic views which he continued to perpetuate onto other girls our age as we grew up. I blame whoever taught him how to do those things, because the way he spoke to me sometimes sounded too adult to be from a kid who stumbled onto some pornsite. I blame my school for knowing what was happening, and not lifting a finger to help EITHER of us. We both needed some sort of intervention, but they did nothing. I now deal with various diagnosed mental disorders and sexual dysfunction as a result of what he did to me. Worst part is, I still see him around town on rare occasions. He doesn't recognise me, and while I'm grateful for that it also angers me that he doesn't even recognise me while I freak out if I see someone who even looks like him.

it actually began in the summer of 1975 when I was 8 years old. my brother came to home on thackeray court in the sheridan parkside projects. My brother brother 2 had just got his license and was so happy that he brought my brother along. while mom, brother 2, and my sister were outside, i was upstairs playing with my star trek playset, when brother came from the bathroom and asked me if I wanted to play doctor. I thought he meant the child's version of it, but he meant the grown-up version. so he asked me to take off my clothes then started feeling my naked body, touching my genitals and feeling my penis, and then said to me this is how people have sex. He then said some very filthy sex talk like you would read in hustler magazine, then said don’t tell mom or I’ll say that it was your idea. so mom and dad never knew about it. there was no police report or rape kit taken. fast forward to september of 1989 when I was 22 years old, my brother brother, his girlfriend, and their 6-month-old baby daughter came up from florida and stayed with mom and me for 3 months. And when mom was at work, they would rape me every night for 3 months, sometimes by her, sometimes by him, or sometimes by the two of them together. It was 90 days of hell every night. When I would go to bed, all I would think about is wanting to commit suicide just to make it all end. but I did not because mom finally found out about all of this in march 2012 when I turned 45 years old just for the simple reason he said that he would kill her if i said anything. So in june 2012, I started going to counseling because i was diagnosed with p.t.s.d because of it. i still go to this very day, 12 years later because sometimes my p.t.s.d flares up from flashbacks or because of the 4th of july fireworks and I talk to her about it, hold nothing back.

It’s difficult to come to terms with being a “victim”., especially if you’re a strong person in your work environment, extended family environment, and community. Who would believe that an outspoken, bold, intelligent, leader in their family (to the outside) who would never stand for anyone around them being demeaned let alone abused in their presence, wouldn’t be able to stand up for themselves to their partner? Seems like an unlikely scenario to most. There are so many various answers to that but my personal answer is common with a lot of victims…my children. Is it fair that, if I (we) leave that they’ll never know their father like they would if I stayed? As a Mother I would do anything for my children, including dealing with things I never would if I didn’t have children. If I leave am I not “strong enough” to just deal with what he says/does? I can’t be weak in front of my children. Fast forward 16 years from the time I left the house with my children. At first, things were amicable because he couldn’t let anyone in on his true self. He couldn’t show what he said and did to me and eventually to one of our sons, for fear of being “found out”. Him finally losing the control he once had over us abruptly ended that facade. One night during his visitation time, my one son sent me a frantic message on a texting app; my son had to make a fake account to text because their father didn’t allow them to speak with me on his time. He told me that “Daddy just beat up ___”, my other son. Thinking maybe he just spanked him I asked a few more general questions, not truly believing what he was saying. It was apparent by his answers that he was not being dramatic or embellishing. I asked if he wanted me to call the police and he said yes, at which time my heart sunk and my mind went to places I shouldn’t admit to in writing. The police and CPS showed up to his house. That was the last private visitation the boys ever had with their father, per a court ruling. For the entire 16 years since I left him, we have been in Family and Supreme Court at least twice each year and have had 13 separate restraining orders against him, his family members, and his new girlfriend. A victim’s advocate went to the court hearings with me for support that I didn’t realize I needed (but I didn’t know how to tell my lawyer no thank you to the offer of help at the time). He continued the mental abuse by attempting to destroy my reputation to friends/family/people I’ve never even met, on social media and in our community. He claimed “parent alienation” and that I was mentally unstable and a danger to the children. The court had previously awarded me 100% physical and decision-making custody/rights but I wasn’t about to put my children’s business on social media to defend myself to people who were too naive to see through his smear campaign. When he no longer had the means to physically or mentally abuse the boys and I, he turned to financial abuse. Refusing to pay child support, canceling the boys’ health insurance (that he was court ordered to provide), and bringing me to court for frivolous and repetitive claims just so I had to take off of work and pay for a lawyer. He told the Judge that if he didn’t get private visitation with his kids he wasn’t paying for them. Needless to say,, the court never awarded him visitation after the assault on our son. For 11 years the boys have had control of speaking with him/seeing him if they chose to and felt safe enough to. They haven’t seen him once and they are now in their 20’s. In realizing that we would never be able to count on him providing for the boys as he ethically should, I returned to college to earn a more sought after degree that had more stability and flexibility than my career at the time. He had told my son at one point that I’d “never be able to take care of them without him”, which ended up being my motivation at the hardest points of earning two new degrees. To illustrate the financial situation, he still owes me over $60,000 in back child support, medical, and college fees but with my new career (and some good old-fashioned hard work and stubbornness) I increased my salary by over $120,000/year; that was 8 years ago. It has never been about money, it will always be about principle and his previous statement basically telling my children I was useless as a parent (merely because of money) without him. I had to prove him wrong. I gained back the control. Control over myself, my boys’ future, and my personal financial situation. It’s hard to leave. It’s scary to run a million negative scenarios through your head of what will happen if you do leave. Will you be able to feed your kids, have a roof over their head, or be able to deal with all the stress without turning to negative coping skills? You can. I did. Millions of single parents have. Is it easy? Absolutely not, not one day of those 16 years has been easy but everyday has been worth it. My boys unfortunately saw a lot of the bad things that went on even when I thought they were shielded from it. They also saw me never give up FOR THEM! I never wanted to be a “single parent” even as a divorced parent. I wanted to co-parent and be cordial at events, no matter the situation. It didn’t end up like that and in the immensely sad words of my then 12-year old son, “he hurt us and doesn’t love us but he did teach me the most important thing in life, what kind of parent not to be”. I felt like a failure in life for picking him to be their father. You may be a victim in part of your story but you’re not a victim in your whole story. Thankfully I’ve learned that “victim” isn’t actually a bad word, it’s a temporary situation. Make a plan to leave, run it through your head 10 times or 100 times, perfect that plan, lean on who you can trust, and safely leave. You’re in control of the rest of your story!

at first he distanced me from my friends, who for him were not people who really cared about me. then he started to be jealous of my past and of all the people with whom I could have interpersonal relationships: at work, acquaintances.. hen each argument started to become more and more aggressive. he went from throwing things that belonged to me on the floor to turning his anger on me. hair pulling, pushing, head against the window of the car.. when I threatened him to leave the house he stopped hitting me for a while. but he started insulting and denigrating me and insulting my family. all these scenes happened in front of his mother who never did anything to protect me. only after two years and a half I had the courage to leave even though I knew I wouldn't find any support. My family doesn't understand how difficult it can be to get out of these situations. they simply consider who stay "a stupid person” I started a psychological interviews in order to get through this experience. Sometimes it seems to be better, but some days are difficult. Because I think about all what happened.. and I’m angry with me because I allow him to do this to me.

Trigger warning for discussion of COCSA. I am a victim on child-on-child sexual assault. I think it's important that I share my story because so many people still tell me that what I went through is not valid just because we were both children. She was even a slight bit younger than me. I know other people have heard the same thing. You aren't alone, and your experiences are valid. I was eleven when it happened. We had been friends since we were six, but she never really liked me, and she controlled everything I did. I practically devoted my life to her. When we were ten she started to abuse me physically and mentally. I hear often that she was just "playing around". That a child would "never do that!" She would. And she learned how from true crime stories online. She used it to get her way. And after a year of so much escalation, she started abusing me sexually. Despite being months younger than me and smaller than me, she was smart and cunning and manipulative, and she took advantage of my love for her and my lack of social awareness due to my autism. And it went on for months. Going to her house for sleepovers was something I dreaded because it brought me the worst discomfort and the worst nights of my life. After years of enduring this abuse, I was mentally and physically drained. I finally realized that if I didn't find a way to escape from her I would die. And it took a while, but I made it out of her grasps eventually. I won't lie, the experience has had lasting effects on my mental wellbeing, but I think I've healed tremendously. There are still steps I need to take, but I'm heading in the right direction, surrounding myself with people who truly care about me. People who have gone through things themselves, that understand me. If you have taken the time to read my story, I thank you. Listening ears are one step closer to recovery. To anyone reading this, you are valued. You aren't alone in what you have gone through, and your feelings and experiences are valid. To anyone who has gone through anything similar to me, I am wishing the best for you 🫶 Thank you all for taking the time to read this.

Hello, this is my first time talking about this online. In real life, I have only told my boyfriend what happened to me. It's hard to tell this story but I just want to get it off my chest, maybe I can finally let go after writing it down. It is a really long story though. Last summer I was raped by my ex boyfriend, but I don't want the story to start there, I'll start when we met for the first time. We went on a double date with my friend and her boyfriend. I didn't know him at all. The date was alright, we even made out and I agreed to a second date even though I didn't feel like there was a spark but unfortunately I'm a people pleaser and my anxiety is very bad so I just went with it instead of rejecting him like I should have. The second date was weird. We went to a bar, he kept buying me drinks. I don't think I was drunk but definitely tipsy. When we left the bar, it was already like 1am and we sat down on a bench somewhere. There was no one around and so we started to kiss which eventually led to him putting his fingers in my pants. I was a virgin back then, barely even kissed someone so even though I was uncomfortable I kept going because I thought that by now (I was 18) I HAD to experience something like that. I wanted it to stop there but he layed me down and started to perform oral on me. I told him I didn't want to do this because we were in public but he said ut would be fine, to just relax and that it would feel good. When it was over, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I found some courage and said no, that I would go to uni in two months anyways. But he insisted saying that we could just break up then. So I stupidly agreed. We met another time, same bar. Again he kept buying me drinks. After that I went home with him where we had sex. It was consensual this time but I felt weird after because he kept asking me how much I enjoyed it and how many times I orgasmed (I didn't, but I felt pressured to lie). We then went to sleep. I left the next morning not knowing how to feel. On one hand, I was happy I finally lost my virginity like everyone else but I knew that I didn't love him. Texting him gave me the worst anxiety, I hated it. The next day I went on a weeklong trip with around 12 other people for our graduation. On that trip, I abused a lot of drugs, manly sleeping pills, tabacco and alcohol and one night, I drunkenly kissed my best friend. I am not proud of that, cheating sucks and I know that this was not right but I admit that ut wasn't just the alcohol, I had feelings for him, I just didn't realize it, unlike my ex, he made me feel so loved and appreciated, I wish I admitted my feelings for him sooner. When I came back from the trip, I told my boyfriend what happened. I wanted to tell him in person but he insisted I text him immediately. He seemed calm over text, saying that he "knew" it would happen and that he "forgives" me but he wanted to talk to me. Ge told me to meet him at 12am at night at the train station in his city, about 45min by train from where I live. I got there and he started grilling me with questions. About what happened and about personal questions about my best friend. He wanted to set some "rules" for me, like that I couldn't drink without him or be around my best friend. He then started to talk about how much he hated my best friend (he didn't even know who he is) and that he wanted to beat him up and stab him with a knife. At that point I told him to stop, that I would not let him talk about my best friend like that and finally I said that I wanted to break up. He didn't, he said that he was sorry, I didn't care, he said we could have an open relationship, I didn't care, I just wanted to break up. So we did but he said I couldn't tell anyone that I was the one who ended it, whatever. We just sat there for a bit talking and I laid my head on his shoulder, I know that was stupid thinking back I hate myself for doing it but I did and we kissed again. He said I should come home with him to have "breakup sex because every couple does that" but I didn't. I got up to take my train home but just when I wanted to walk up the stairs, the train left. So I went back, my ex was still there, I thought maybe he'd stay for a little so I wouldn't have to wait an hour alone at night for my next train. He didn't want to and I was fine with that, told him I'd be fine waiting alone but he insisted I go home with him because it would be too dangerous. I said no and then he said, verbatim, that we didn't have to have sex, I said that I would come home with him only under that condition amd he agreed. Again, I was a fool, I hate myself for going back with him, I'm crying writing this. When we got back (it was like 4am) he went outside to smoke. I went to bed and tried to sleep. He came back, layed next to me and that's when it started. He touched me, kissed me and I said I just wanted to sleep. He didn't stop so I shoved his hands away. He tried again and again with me pushing him back everytime and telling him to just let me sleep. At one point he said "ok if you puah me back one more time, I'll stop" and I DID but he STILL kept going. I was tired, exhausted and realized he wouldn't stop. I didn't know what to do because everyone was asleep and I didn't even know his family, honestly I didn't even know him, we met a total of four times. So I let it happen, thought maybe he was satisfied with just touching me but no. When I knew that he was going to "have sex" with me I just said "can you at least put on a condom?" He did and then he raped me. I kept hoping it would end soon. It was terrible, I hated how he took advantage of me and I hated myself once again for not standing up for myself more. The next morning I left as soon as possible but I was weirdly happy, as in I couldn't wait to leave and never see him again. I didn't even know that it was rape because I felt like me "letting it happen" didn't count as rape. It was only months after I learned what "coercion" means and I realized that what happened to me was infact rape. I only told my boyfriend who is amazingly supportive, he's the love of my life (also my former best friend, yes the one I cheated on my ex with). I know the police wouldn't believe me and I'm scared to tell anyone else in fear that they would not see it as rape, tell me I'm just overdramatic or that I just regret it but "consented". Even I feel like that sometimes. There were so many occasions where I should have stood up for myself but I didn't. I feel like it's my fault partially because of that even though I know that it's not. I don't know what to do. I want to talk about it with a therapist but I'm so scared that they wouldn't believe me or belittle my experience. Thank you all for reading my story, this helps me so much. I know that sexual assault can never be undone but we can still be strong. We can recover, I believe in you and me.

Okay... so here we go. I'm now seventeen years old and a so-called weird teenager. My family including my parents think that I don't try to mix with people, I don't trust them, and I tend to isolate myself from everyone and everything. Even at family parties, I keep myself busy on the phone away from the crowd. I don't have any friends, not a lover. It's not like that I don't go to school or I'm always bullied, I go to school and I always stand up for myself, but somedays it's so hard. You don't know what to do when the memory, the past comes back to you, to haunt you. My parents tell me to talk to them if I need something or anything like that, but don't they get it? Don't they know? I was six years old when it happened. No, I was not raped, but I was groped by a worker of my mom's aunt's store of bags. My parents had a pretty good relationship with my mom's aunt's family. We used to go to their place and they used to come to ours often. One day, my parents went to her store along with me. The store was pretty big. It had several rooms too. My parents were talking to her sitting in front of her table while I was just wandering around. There was that guy, maybe he was 22 or 23 that time, who told me that it was too hot in there and told me that the other room is better. I trusted him as I saw him a lot of times before and went with him in the room which was kind of away from the first room where my parents were. The room was not really used as there were some broken and unused things were kept. There was a broken bed too. He closed the door and turned the fan on and sat on the bed. He made me sit on his lap and he took his phone out. He started showing me a sex tape. A SEX TAPE TO A SIX YEARS OLD! What a pervert! The little innocent me didn't know anything about what was going on in his mind. And then I felt a hand... inside my pants. I jerked away from him and looked at him as he asked, "What's wrong?" WHAT'S WRONG???? Everything was wrong. I sensed that whatever he was doing was not right, so instead of replying to him, I told him to open the door. He did so. Maybe he feared that I would scream. As soon as he opened the door, I went to my parents and stood beside them the whole time and did not move an inch. After we came home, I told my parents about everything. My mom called her aunt and told her about it and my mom's aunt said that she would look into the matter. I got older and after some years I realized that I was sexually assaulted. But you know what happened to the man? Nothing. He still works there. Everyone just let go of the matter. Even my parents. Shame on them. Shame on all of them. What did they think? I was lying. A SIX YEARS OLD GIRL WAS LYING ABOUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT. Shame on my parents who believed the pervert instead of their own daughter. Can't they see? Can't they see what that incident made me? Maybe they do now and they always will. That it made me stronger. It made me the tough and strong female I am today. Now when I look back, sometimes I wonder how did I do it and sometimes I feel proud of myself that I didn't give up. I came a long way and I'll keep going. Maybe someday we'll be able to do something against this kind of incident and help the others who have been through something like this. I don't want anyone else to be strong by going through something like this. I want others to have someone who they can trust and love and who will always have their back no matter what. I might be strong today, but some days it's just so hard.

I am safe. I am healing. I wish I did not have to be so strong, so resilient. But I am glad it molded me into who I am today. When I was 16, I began working as a lifeguard. My first real job, my first place I felt like a had my own independence. I woke up one morning and went to work and my life changed forever. Name took that from me. An older lifeguard in his 40s sexually assaulted me every day after that when we worked together. He told me it was okay, that I was cool. He told me if I did not listen, he would do it to my other friends and coworkers. I hated myself. I hated him. I hated everyone that saw me crying out for help and did nothing. An adolescent with an attitude problem was what I became. Almost 15 years later I am finally healing. I'm in therapy and working on loving the person I see in the mirror and getting to know her. I want the anxiety to go away. I want the ED to go away. I want the negative self-talk to go away. I want to be proud of the woman I have become. I don't want Name and what he did to me haunt me anymore. I want to pave a path for others to know that there is a light at the end of the dark tunnel. To not let anyone, take away your wings. A bumble bee gets up every day and chooses to fly even though it's not physically supposed to be able too. Someday I want to be that bumble be. Or maybe I already am, and I just haven't noticed yet.

My highschool boyfriend. When I walk by the parking spot I still see it, I feel his hands and it makes me want to rip off my own skin. I remember crying and him not caring, I remember how forceful and adamant he was when he took my head and forced it on his lap. I remember him undoing his belt and taking off his jeans in the front seat of his car and telling me that I “owed” him. I remember crying. I remember gagging, sobbing, and just wanting to leave. He looked me in the eye, called me a bitch and kicked me out of his car. I didn’t tell anyone because he loved me and that’s what our love was like. He told me I didn’t know what love was because it was my first time being in love. He told me it was normal and that he was older and more experienced so he knew best, he was doing me favours. I remember realizing that real love isn’t being screamed at in the front seat of a car after having your head pushed down into someone’s genitals. Of course I wasn't done. I allowed this cycle to control me. I was too afraid to leave because I thought that nobody would ever want me if they knew what I did. In retrospect, it is what I had gone through. It is what I have survived. I still walk by that parking spot.

No matter what your abuser says, it isn't your fault. You are braver than you think and stronger than you know. Your truth is THE truth, and your voice matters. My abuser would gaslight me constantly to where I was no longer certain of what had actually happened in a given situation. He emotionally, verbally and psychologically abused me yet claimed it was all my fault. After I ended our engagement and finally left him for good, he put an AirTag on my car and used it to track my location and stalk me. According to him, this was also my fault. He was convinced I was cheating on him - something I never did and would never do. I got an Order of Protection against him, and we went to court multiple times. It was the worst time in my entire life, but I survived. Two years later, I've moved across the country, started my own business and rebuilt my life. You aren't alone. Even if you feel like it, you have the strength of the survivors who've gone before you that will carry you through your darkest days. We stand by you and with you. It ends with us.