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It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

I never associated my assaults as sexual assaults. I always just saw it as a thing that happened me that was upsetting until recently. I was groped, forced into having sex and preforming oral sex on him. I remember one time he offered to drive me home. I lived over 40 mins from town so I thought i could save myself €60 in a taxi. Until I realised we were going in the opposite direction to my house. He drove me to secluded area. I knew it wasn't right I said no said I was due my period I tried everything I could to deter him. It didn't work. I can't drive that road without a feeling of dread. I do feel part to blame and I know that's wrong. I hate how it makes me feel. When I hear stories in the news I can't help but think my story isn't as bad as theirs or that maybe mine wasn't rape or a sexual assault. I hate myself for thinking it.

My name is Survivor and when I was around age 3, my father started raping me. My mother helped hold me down. He was raping her, and she offered me up in her place. This continued until age 23, maybe 24, shortly before my wedding. By the time I was 6, he was raping other members of my family too. He’d come into my room at night and would throw my nightgown up into the headboard and then I’d have to wait my turn in fear and naked shame while others were raped. We had a large waterbed and I still remember the bed rolling up and down, up, and down, up, and down like on a boat. Once done, he wiped me down roughly with a red shop rag he used in cleaning the garage. It allowed him to keep the rag around to smell it and hold it close with no one questioning why it was so dirty with red stains. Most of the time, my dad was friendly and polite. But once he turned into the monster no one did anything to stop him. He never did these things when he was nice. Only when he was the monster. But he used the nice times to make it easier to attack. He would lull you into a false sense of safety and peace which really made you question your intuition and gut instincts that this was a bad man. This made it easier for him to sexually assault other children and adults. As I got older, my parents controlled the narrative of our lives, every aspect was carefully controlled. Like my mom knowing how to force miscarriages. The first abortion forced on me was when I was 15. I don’t know how I managed to make it to adulthood. I continue to remember more and more of the abuse by other family and church members. And other things my dad did within the church where he was pastor and then later deacon. But I still can’t talk about those memories. I think my dad felt like anything he did was inevitable, therefore, never his fault because he couldn’t control himself and when it happened God would forgive him, so it was all right. I know this because I overheard him grooming another family member to do the same things when he was 11 years old. Males in our family were groomed to be abusers too. I was groomed too. To always be the abused. Forced to keep silent, I learned quickly what happens to people who stand up to my dad. They die or get assaulted. As you can imagine, I had terrible anxiety growing up about being sexually assaulted and worked hard to fade into the background. I thought that might help. I thought it mattered what I wore, color of my hair, how much I weighed. It’s taken years and it will probably continue to take years to unlearn the lies I was taught. The worry made me constantly ill with one thing after another-- I got cancer when I was 32 and before that incapacitating vertigo and motion sickness. My parents met while working down in Texas for an independent fundamental Baptist preacher. Lester Roloff—an Independent Fundamental Baptist preacher who opened homes across the country for “troubled” children, teens, and adults. He liked to say he was saving dope fiends, whores, and hippies. I believe many of the children in the homes had already experienced abuse growing up and Lester Roloff homes should have been a safe place to heal. Instead, the kids met caretakers like my parents. My mom was in a charge of the 16 and older home and my dad flew around the country raising money and preaching the party line: men were akin to gods and women were lower than dirt—their only worth was in being a virgin and then baby factories once married. Very masochistic and minimizing of abuse of any kind, my parents ate up the evil rhetoric being preached from the pulpit My parents eventually took their brand of abuse from Lester Roloff’s out into the churches and communities where we lived-from Texas to Washington and eventually into Alaska. He disappeared in a plane over the waters near Anchorage in 2006. The events surrounding his disappearance were always very suspect but intense pressure from my family kept me quiet. Every day for almost three years straight, a family member called and reminded me talking about “our family issues” was causing generational sin to 4 generations. The pressure to keep quiet and do what my family told me to do was so significant I would have rather died than disappoint them. It wasn’t until I set out to heal from all the trauma, that I found out my dad faked his death. I had always been told since he was gone, there was nothing to be done for what I experienced growing up. But let me tell you, knowing he’s still out there perpetrating on other children and men and women really compelled me to come forward. I finally felt free to start talking. Getting past the pressure to stay silent was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder, even, than fighting cancer. I have spent many years in intensive CBT, EMDR and Polyvagal therapy learning how to process my wounds in a healthy way. I had pushed for criminal and civil suits against my perpetrators but the Texas statute of limitations don’t allow for justice to be done. So now, I spend my time now speaking on panels, podcasts, and community platforms about the intersections of trauma, faith, and advocacy. One of the biggest honors of my life has been sharing my story and advocating for Trey’s Law on the Texas Senate floor in Spring 2025. Forcing a sexual assault victim to keep quiet is what allowed people like my parents to continue their mistreatment for so many years. I will do what I can to make sure justice isn’t minimized by NDAs and Statute of Limitations. My efforts connect me with survivors, true crime audiences, mental health communities, and faith groups seeking to understand and confront abuse. I invest my time in mentoring survivors, creating resources for healing, and building digital tools to expand access to supportive materials. Because living a life whole and healthy is what I really want for me, all the victims and their families. We make our own opportunities to heal.

I was about 8 years old when I was getting molested by my older brother. He's about 4-5 years older than me. I'm an adult now and finished college. My brain had repressed the memories of it for years and I didn't really remember it well until I was in therapy while at university for stress and depression. I think talking about my upbringing in therapy and my relationship with my parents finally made the memories surface. I always knew something bad was going on, I just didn't understand it. I remember multiple instances. He'd have me lay face down on my bed and pull my pants down to "massage" me. I think he only ever groped on my ass cheeks, but I can't remember. He did that multiple times. He came into my room once and made me get naked and he got behind me and laid on the floor behind my bed, out of view if the door opened, and he told me to not look and just sit back. I felt his penis and began to freak out, so he stopped. I think he was trying to penetrate me. I don't think he ever actually did. The last major time I can remember, I went into his room because I liked watching him play video games. He made me get naked again and lay in bed next to him naked. I felt him rubbing his penis on me. My mom opened the door and saw we were naked and began yelling. I was so scared anytime my mom yelled at me. I got out of bed quickly and got dressed. I was shaking so bad it was difficult. I ran out of his room to my room down the hall as she continued to yell at him. I thought I was in trouble too, even though I never understood what was going on. I just felt weird and gross after. She never came to check on me. Not that I remember at least. We didn't talk about it, she didn't take me to get help, there was nothing. All these years later, my mom called one night and I confronted her about it. I have no contact with my brother now and she'd always ask if I talked to him or talked to dad (they're divorced). I finally told her what I remembered. She said everything I expected her to say. She said she was sorry, that she thought it was only once and didn't want to imagine it happened multiple times. She said she failed as a mother and she thought at the time that she had handled it after threatening my brother to never do it again. No report, no doctor visit, no therapy, no help for me. I don't think she ever even told my dad. Just that she's sorry and should have done more. She said everything I already assumed she would and had played out in my head a hundred times before I ever asked her about it. None of it made me feel better to hear. I know the type of person she is already. Emotionally stunted, self-centered, victim complex. She hadn't changed much at all since then. She got upset and cried and eventually we both hung up. For my brother, I just finally stopped talking to him. I blocked him and I don't go to my dad's in case he's there again. I think the last time I saw him was almost a year ago. We didn't talk anymore anyway. I'd try before I remembered what happened. I think he remembers too and can't face it either, so we were never close after we grew up. I'm still processing how it all affected me. I honestly hate my mother more than him sometimes since she was the adult and did nothing. I'm not sure what else to say.

my brother SA'd me multiple times. he never raped me, though. he once forced me to kiss him on the mouth as a "game" of some sorts. he would also smack my ass, call me a slut, and shame me for everything. before he got on medication, he would beat me up. he's on medication now, but he's still terrible. he got mad at me and said he would gangrape me. he never did, but it was still scary. i hate him, and he says i'm a bad person for hating him. he also denied ever SAing me. sometimes i feel like i'm delusional or something. i don't know, i'm just tired of living with him. i can't wait for him to move out.

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

Over 2 years on and I’m only realising the impact of what I’ve been through. I was 19, just had my heart broken by a cheater after being together for number long years. So of course when this guy said he’d buy me a drink I took it, danced with my friends at a local festival with my home only being a 5 minute walk away. He found me in the nightclub later on and asked me to go for a walk, and I agreed. I left the nightclub and first thing made it clear, all I want is to talk and most I’ll do is kiss you and he said that was perfectly okay, he offered me some of his drink and I had a few sips. We talked and talked, we sat down on a flat rock and had some laughs and shared some kisses when things started to change. A lot happened, a lot that I asked him to stop doing, my mind felt fuzzy and I felt numb. At one point I couldn’t move and could barely breathe, there were a few moments where I wasn’t sure what he was doing to me, or if he was recording it. I’m not religious but I prayed that I wouldn’t be found dead the following day, I didn’t want my parents to lose their baby at only 19. I don’t know how I got out of the situation, but I did. And I rang my friends straight away, was hysterical and guards found me. I ended up going to the hospital to the sexual assault treatment unit and the women were lovely but that has traumatised me. It was the only time I was ever in hospital and there I was alone. Every day for over 2 years it comes into my mind at least a few times. It happened in the month and in month I started college, I sought college therapy but I’m not sure how much it helped. I disassociate a lot and my emotions are easier to switch off now, but every few hours that night plays into my head. I felt as if I had the worst beginning to college, but I also felt that it was a new chapter and a new experience. I struggled with alcohol abuse for a while and I wasn’t scared to say no to drugs. Thankfully that only lasted a few months. I hit some really bad lows, but I’ve also turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly in a sense. That Christmas I cried, I cried because I was glad to be alive. That I survived what he did to me, and I also survived my mind. But him in my mind still affects me to this day at 21 and a half. I haven’t gone to RCC as I’ve always felt this shame and guilt, I feel very alone as none of my friends were supportive and the news broke out the day after it happened across my small town, and having that victim blaming comments or remarks “like oh wasn’t he apparently younger” going around made it even harder to talk about or the “it wasn’t that bad and it could’ve been worse”, yes it could’ve been worse but it is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I have reached out to therapists and I am considering visiting the rape crisis centre as I have been struggling these 2 years really, I’m happy and have a brave face but that night intrudes and invades my thoughts an awful lot. I’ve also been struggling with my sexual life, after the incident I slept with a lot of people most of it which I can’t remember. And I regret it and feel so much guilt and shame, especially when people ask “oh what’s your body count” well I never tell and I never will as it’s my business. But even after I calmed down, I either get attached easily or I run away, and then feel the shame and guilt around sex, believing that I rushed in. I’m slightly better, but reading these stories reminds me I’m not alone and that I won’t be judged by others and people willing to help. I hope one day, I can feel “normal” again and live the rest of my life as any young woman should.

I'm still angry. My boyfriend of 4 years raped me in January. We had talked about kids. Marriage. Our future together. I trusted him with my life. He knew that, and I often wonder if he used that. He gave me an edible and encouraged me to drink. I figured he would want nothing but the best for me, so I obliged. Like I said, I trusted him with my life. I blacked out. I remember about 5 minutes of the entire 4 hour ordeal. I remember saying I was dizzy and wanted to sleep, and he told me that the only way to not get sick from drinking (which was a big fear of mine) was to have sex. I was so intoxicated I couldn't hold myself up. I fell flat on my face a few times. It was 4 hours. 4 hours long of him taking advantage of me being unconscious. Due to some health issues, I couldn't have sex with him when conscious, so I guess he invited himself to it when I wasn't conscious. I'm still upset. But that's the thing: I am upset about the situation, but I don't hate him. Too many people keep asking why I continue to keep up with him after what he did. It isn't that black and white. I support people forgiving their abusers. I support people not forgiving their abusers. Right now, he's still in my life because he lives nearby and he's going through a lot and I try to help where I can. But I also am fully aware of my own limitations and what I can handle. I am helping him from an emotional distance. I hate what he did, but I don't hate him. I haven't cut him off yet, and I don't have to. Stop trying to fill in the ending to my story, and let me write it myself.

I was a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 7 years old and my cousin's stepbrother was 9 or 10. He abused me for two years. I told my mother what happened, and his parents punished him. Most of my family didn't believe me. In a conversation with my mother, she told me I had probably made up the whole abuse and that I was a liar, and I cried a lot that day. My grandmother is proud of him because he's a doctor in Germany and has a good life, while I'm trapped. I can't stand being touched and I can't get over it, even though I've been to therapy. Yesterday I saw his Instagram and felt bad because he moved on and I didn't. He told me it was a secret and I trusted him (the three of us were alone because my uncle and his wife -who is the mother of my abuser- are doctors so they were always in the hospital). They would leave the food ready for us and he (A) would put it in the microwave. A pulled my pants down a little or lift my skirt (if i was wearing one). When A was on top of me he was kissing me- it was overwhelming and i couldn't focus on anything else but his breath and voice, he was grabbing his crotch, but I didn't understand what he was doing. We were playing normal with his little sister and then A exclude her from the game to be alone with me so A put her in front of the television so she wouldn't focus on us and was distracted. Then A guided me to the room, he close the door to the room he shared with his sister (my cousin's bed was near the door and his wasn't), so he would make me lie down on the floor next to his bed so no one could see us. At first, I would get on top of him, but then he said I was too heavy to be in that position (I guess it wasn't comfortable for him to abuse me). That led to an eating disorder that I still have; I even developed anemia last year. I remember once I ran to the bathroom because something didn't feel right, but he started banging on the door but then I realized there was nothing I could do, I mean where would I go? My uncles locked us out. I remember once, A didn't close the door properly because his sister came in, and he straightened his clothes and pushed me under his bed, but his sister saw me and asked me what I was doing there, and I stayed there for a long time. And her sister got under the bed to keep me company; she was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her, or maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think I'm broken, because his kisses and his voice in my ear were too much, and I never noticed if he ejaculated or if something else happened that I overlooked or never noticed because I never went to a doctor, my mom never reported him. And we couldn't count on my dad because he abandoned us and went off with the neighbor and treated her daughter as his own while the abuse was happening. That's why I lived in their house during that time; that's why the abuse continued because I was in the provinces and my mother traveled to the capital because of a false accusation my father made against her. A year later, my mother's half-brother baptized me with my abuser's mother, and I never said anything. I just smiled in the photos as if nothing was wrong while I hugged A. Now I´m 22 and I still feel sick and dirty.

I never realised I had to be wary of women, because I never expected one could take advantage of me. I had lots to drink and simply thought I had made a new friend. I was so drunk that I just went along with everything she suggested, even though I kept saying I had no interest in women. I still doubt myself and blame myself. I thought I was safe and never in my life expected a woman would sexually assault me. I feel nobody understands.

I'm a 19-year-old Filipina girl from city in the Philippines. My father raped me when I was 11 years old. It lasted for over three years. When I was 13 years old and had my first period, he stopped. He works as a seafarer, and when he comes home, I always feel scared and intimidated. I didn't want to tell my mother because she would either not believe me or launch a lawsuit against my father, and since he is our family's breadwinner, we would struggle to live. For years, our mother also verbally and physically mistreated us, even taunting to kill us out of rage. That, they claim, is their method of discipline. I am the eldest of four sisters, and for years I remained silent and faced the trauma alone. My 14-year-old sister, who came after me, just revealed that our father attempted to rape her as well. I suppose she was stronger than me because she taunted our father, threatening to tell our mother. My father then came to a halt. Aside from that, our father would regularly make jokes or say things about us that had sexual innuendos in front of my mother or even in front of guests. They think it's a joke and would join in the laughter. For my sister and myself, it irritates us that he appears unconcerned about what he did to us. An occurrence earlier this year prompted us to tell our mother about what our father had done to us on the spur of the moment. We assumed she'd understand, but it turns out she blamed us for what happened. She was enraged with our father, but much more so with us, since she feels betrayed that we didn't inform her after all these years. My mother had heart complications, and the news made her body so weak that we were afraid she would die. Our father, who appeared remorseful, pleaded for forgiveness, and because I was also concerned about my mother, I accepted his apologies right away. My parents appeared to be back to normal a few days afterwards, as if nothing had occurred. It appeared to be brushed off their shoulders until today. They kept up their dictatorial, condescending, and destructive parenting styles. My sisters and I have been through a lot in our family, and we don't seem to have a choice about it. I want to seek for help, but I'm afraid it will destabilize our family, and our parents also wanted us to remain silent. I still can't get it out of my head, and I'm finding it difficult to cope with every day. I had regular suicide ideations, but I couldn't even bring myself to seek professional aid.

I recently broke up with my girlfriend who’s been my best friend for around 11 years and we still have sleepovers frequently and the other day I was half asleep and she kept telling me I was too tired and I needed to go to sleep soon and when I gave in and I was falling asleep she asked me for a kiss and in my sleepy state I said yes forgetting we had broken up and so we kisses not a peck it was quite a long kiss no tounge..? I don’t know how to feel because I didn’t even remember it happened until the next afternoon and I told her it made me uncomfy and she said sorry I just needed something and “I didn’t think u were tired enough to not give consent”?? I don’t know does this count as a form of sa? It felt like it..?

*THIS IS MY FIRST TIME TELLING ANYONE MY STORY** I had just turned 13 and had my first crush, a boy 2 years older than me, we'll call Name cause well that's his name. His Cousin had invited me to a"house party" only when I showed up it was just me, him and his cousin. When I got there they were both waiting for me in the entry way, my first thought was wow they're excited to see me, cool. Then I felt someone grab me by the back of my head by my ponytail. Then my pullover jacket I had just got for Christmas was pulled over my head, and I felt a sharp cold knife against my throat. I was forced into a bedroom With only one of them Wich I couldn't see because my jacket was still over my head, but I could tell by the voice it was Name I remember hearing the clips on my farmer jeans being messed with, but he couldn't be bothered to figure it out so he pulled them down over my shoulders and eventually down to my feet. My coat had moved down a little so I could see his hand flat on the bed with the knife underneath it, mind you this was my first time having any kind of sexual experience at this point I had never even kissed a boy, all I could think of was if I grab this knife I can stab him and run but that would have been impossible considering my farmer jeans were still around my ankles and I was in so much pain and bleeding everywhere. I froze, I left my body, I let him do what he planned on doing from the start, I felt so stupid, so naive and so VIOLATED. I walked from this "house party" rape plan 7 blocks crying hysterically as blood dripped down my legs, Wich I didn't even notice, I was so young I didn't know what happened your"first time". I'm 40 now and I'm finally coming forward because it's been eating me alive for years. And PTSD is real. This scumbag not only took what I was saving for my future husband, he took my pride, my self esteem, my trust and my ability to open up sexually to the love of my life. If I didn't have my husband I'd probably be in a psych ward somewhere, I know I didn't deserve or ask for this, but it still affects me daily, I stay far away from where it happened, I'm always looking over my shoulder, I'm sick of living in fear since he was released from prison for other things..... He actually had the nerve to request me on Facebook! That's when the flash backs started.... I thought I had this tucked away, hidden deep down in the depths of my soul, never to be spoken about EVER. All I want to do is tell my husband, but I feel like I've been lying by omission, I want to tell him so bad, I just can't bring myself to tell him without breaking down completely or hurting him somehow.....I love him so much, he is my safe place.

There was a lot of emotions happening in me that led up to the night it happened. I was struggling in my relationship, I was confused about God, I was angry at my friends who didn't include me in their get-together that day. So I drank a lot. I drank a lot of tequila, specifically, which I never do. I don't know the guy's name I went home with that night. I don't know what he looks like. I don't remember leaving the bar with him. I remember "coming-to" for just a minute, realizing I didn't know where I was, and trying to run out of the apartment before collapsing onto the floor in the hallway of the complex and crying. I woke up mostly naked and I was sore and bruised and still very drunk. I don't believe this guy forced himself upon me. I just didn't know what I was saying yes to in the moment, or even who I was saying yes to. I'm still working through the fact that it's not my fault that this happened; it's not his fault - I don't blame him at all, as he was extremely intoxicated as well. But I want other survivors with a story like mine to hear this: just because your story may not involve abuse, just because you were blackout drunk, does not mean that you don't deserve to be considered a survivor. Because you do. You're not alone. You're not alone. You are worthy, you are not damaged, you deserve love. Healing is not linear and it happens in small ways, but it does happen.

A little over A number of years ago, when I was 19, I ended a numbermonth relationship with a man I had met in college. We had met during orientation, and he pursued me romantically very quickly. I was so delighted to be finally seen; I had never been in a relationship and no one had ever been interested in me before. Things moved very quickly, and in hindsight, it should have been a sign of what was to come. He kissed me suddenly one day when we hugged and I didn't turn him down. He was very pushy to progress things along faster than I felt ready for, but I convinced myself that I should be ready. Naively, I agreed to be in a relationship with him a week after meeting. Within a month, our relationship had become more sexual. He had forced his way to take my virginity when I just wanted some foreplay, but again, I didn't object and soothed myself that at least I didn't have a one-night-stand. Two months later, he wanted me to go on birth control when a condom and emergency contraception failed and I had an early miscarriage. He was particularly interested in me getting an implant. I didn't think it was a bad idea, as I didn't want to get pregnant again. Unfortunately, this enabled him to abuse me even more. The relationship turned violent as well as sexually abusive, and he wore me down psychologically, saying I was a terrible girlfriend and pointing out everything I was insecure about. He was very suspicious of my friendships with my male classmates (I was one of four women in a class of 40, I hadn't much choice) and accused me of emotional cheating and flirting with them when it wasn't true. Eventually, I had struck up a friendship with one of his friends he introduced me to from school, who I confided in that we weren't having a happy relationship. I didn't disclose any real detail during our conversations, but he was horrified by his verbal treatment of me and what my boyfriend said to him about me, and encouraged me to leave him gently over several months. I eventually did break up with him in a public space in order to try to be safe. Strangely, he was fine with it. He took his belongings from my apartment and left without any issue. The following day, he had already moved on to kissing another girl in a neighbouring college and ended up being in a relationship with her for many years - his insecurity about me cheating was a projection of his own behaviour. I ended up dating the friend who helped me to leave that relationship and we are now very happily engaged and cut ties from my ex completely, so I'm thankful we met despite the circumstances. Unfortunately, I never had any real evidence besides anecdotal to bring a case against him for what he did to me without my consent. Dates of those events are non-existent in my memory because I accepted it as being my duty as his girlfriend, and I remember very little now (possibly due to my brain wanting to forget the trauma) unless I get nightmares and flashbacks - there are a few moments that won't leave me. I am currently attending counselling and I'm so lucky to have a fiancé now who has always respected and loved me how anyone deserves to be treated, never been pushy for sex, and supported me so strongly when I disclosed to him fully about what happened in that relationship. I'm sad that my abuser walks free and I don't have any way to have justice, nor protect other women from him without facing defamation legal implications. It is hard to feel safe on my own if I am back in the same city where we went to college. I have seen him a few times in public, but thankfully he never saw me or didn't approach me. I have had some panic attacks out in public when this has occurred. I can only hope that maybe he has changed.

While I was a Collge Student; I met The Most Precious Lady. She is so Beautful, Elegant and Refined. I was unable to buy Her a meal due to demands of expenses. She has been through unspeakble pain in Her Lifetime. Although I bought Her pizza and gave Her transporation; I wish that I could have taken Her to the finest Restaurant. This Lady is a Hero (Heroine). She has known the vile temperatures of Winter and scalding Hot Days of Summer in City, State. She gets dehydrated, hungry, damp, chapped lips, Her Braids have gotten frozen together, She trudges through slush in strong winds. She has been abused by Slumlords. Name is African American. From My travels to East Africa; I believe that She is Tribe. I am 56 years of age. She is over 35 years of age. In certain Cultures: She would be treated as a Queen; protected, kept safe, insults would not be allowed. Of Course She is a Human Being Who makes mistakes, but She has been severely discriminated against because of the color of Her skin. When I held Her hand, I knew that I was with Royalty. To All of Those Who Care about Ladies not being mistreated; Please vote for strong laws against abuse of Females. This Lady has been close to homelessness. Promised many great rewards by people who take advantage of Her; I hope that One good Day She is living so comfortable. She is could probably be considered "anorexic"; as She likes to look Perfect (Which She Is). There is great Sexual Exploitation in U.S.A. and throughout The World. Males make all sorts of obscene gestures to Females and think that there is no consequences. Actions have consequences, words have consequences. Victims of Sexual Harassment such as Name need just recompense. Myself, I took a Male who had abused Her and put Him on The Ground. It is probably wrong to take the Law into One's Own "Hands", but can We believe that a better day is coming? When Female Victims are protected. Bail Reform has allowed many Predators to be in Society. I am not a "vigalante", but it causes Me great sadness that Male Oppressors are not put in Prison for a long time. There has been magnitudes of Victimization. Name is A Victim. I'm sure that She does not want to be viewed as weak or made an example of. But She broke My Heart with Her tender voice, kindess, smile, strength, Spirit, Inner Joy and ablity to Survive. People of Wealth, Stature, Affluenza, etc... think that They can "Buy" a Female's respect. It is heinous, deviant and depraved. So Many Ladies like Precious Name deserve so much Better. Please have Honor in Your Heart, Mind, Soul, Words and Actions.

When I was in 7th grade, I met this guy. He was older than me by at least a year and I had the biggest crush on him -- he totally knew it too. I was the most insecure child which I told him. I thought he was my friend so when he told me to send him a picture, fully clothed, I trusted him and did. He told me I was pretty but that he didn't fully know because he couldn't see all of me. After more convincing, he got me to send him more photos, each time with less clothes on. The next week or so, he 'confessed' that he got horny from the photos and started demanding more. I was hesitant at first but I wanted him to like me so bad. I was 12. Then, once he was done with me, he would only reach out every two or three weeks. He had made me so reliant on his words for my self confidence that when I was reading an online story and they talked about an anonymous website where you could meet strangers and chat, it was all I wanted. I met more and more men, older and older, who took advantage of me and groomed me further to meet their needs. Now, I'm 18. That little 12 year old is so sad and hurting but trying to heal.

Hello, my name is Name, and my entire childhood I was sex trafficked. In the beginning of my childhood, my home life was seemingly perfect. My mother was very motivated in holistic healing and teaching me and my younger brother mindfulness, she was sweet and caring, though she was in the middle of starting her own business and was constantly busy, not noticing when me and my brother needed help, she was also an alcoholic. We were often left unsupervised and were physically punished. My father seemed very lighthearted and innocent most of the time, though I didn't know at the time deep down he was the opposite. My grandparents were also very involved in my upbringing. We would stay with them or they would stay with us every 2-3 months, and then me and my brother would stay with them for a couple weeks to a month and a half. The first time I remember being raped, I was only 4 years old. My grandfather was staying at my house, I don't remember where my parents, brother or Nana was. This memory is very fragmented for me. I remember crying very hard, and I remember bleeding everywhere. I can remember how painful it was. I was so scared. There's a gap in my memory, the time from when it was over, and then the next day. Next thing I knew the memory had repressed itself inside of my mind, there was a sudden split in my consciousness. One part felt the pain, the other was oblivious. My grandparents left afterwards. A couple months later I was registered into a preschool, owned by a puerto rican woman and her family. Because of how young I was, I do not know how to full narrate this part of my life. My memories are scattered. I do know that at this daycare there was a woman, she was the owner's daughter's boyfriend's mother who often helped out there. And a man, the owner's husband. Let's call the woman Name 2 and the man Name 3. One day early on in attending the day care, I was taken into a room with both of them alone, and again I was raped. I remember the fear and the confusion, then I remember the numbness that again took over my body and mind. I remember the split of my consciousness happening again. After this I have scattered memories of it happening again and again. Sometimes I remember other children being involved, but I'm not sure if those memories are accurate. They often took photos and videos of me. Half of the time, my life felt like a horror show, and the other half I was completely oblivious to it. Though, the oblivious part always knew something was wrong. She would often take things out on dolls, destroying the space between their legs with whatever she could find. She would often rehearse exactly what had happened to her onto the dolls, not knowing where these horrible ideas had come from, and what they meant. She also often took these things out on other children, trying to initiate sex with anyone she knew. The rape continued, until Name 3 murdered his wife, the owner of the daycare. He had been physically abusing her for a long time. Her death was sudden and was probably caused by a head injury, but nobody said anything about it. Name 3 was not persecuted. So, my parents registered me to another daycare. I was safe from being violated for a year. Until Elementary school started. My grandfather started molesting me again. My kindergarten year went by fast, and in the fall of my 1st grade year my parents divorced. They had been fighting every day on and off for a long time, my Mother decided to just leave. I don't remember how long I went without seeing her. She was now struggling on and off with homelessness. My father took all the money he could get his hands on. This is when the abuse from my father started. He beat me and my brother until our backs were covered with black and purple bruises. He'd pull me out of bed by my hair before school every morning. He was constantly irritated. He hired babysitters to watch me and my brother after school while he was still at work, some of them were from the daycare where I was raped. Soon after my mom started coming over twice a week to see me and my brother. One night, I believe my Dad had gotten drunk, he told me to get ready for bed. I did and went into my room. He followed. My memory gets spotty here, my father raped me. He was angry, he wanted revenge on my mother for leaving him. I couldn't do anything against him. Afterwards, he buckled his pants back up. And he left me. I had an accident and my mother came in to help me, not aware of anything that had happened. After that I had many more accidents. Nobody suspected anything. I had nightmares of monsters eating me alive, ripping apart my insides, wolves tearing me to pieces, bears chasing me, being forced to touch my family members inappropriately. Still I was mostly oblivious. The abuse went on, there were times when things would be good for a couple weeks and then it would go back. I started going to my moms apartment on weekends. Later that year, my grandfather started raping me again. My Nana was working, and he was a trucker. He was off most of the time we were together. To keep me quiet about it, he often attempted to murder me. He would hold me by my head and tell me he was gonna snap my neck, he'd choke me until all I saw was darkness and I couldn't speak, and when he'd bathe me, he'd hold the back of my neck and push me under the water until I stopped struggling. He'd slap me across the face so hard my ears would ring so loud, when I fell over onto the carpet he'd kick the shit out of me, and sometimes he'd whip my back with an extension cord. He told me no matter what if I told anybody I would be dead. And that I would go to hell. My family was baptist. Soon after men would come over and pay to rape me as well, sometimes in the privacy of my grandparents bedroom and sometimes together right in the middle of the living room. Some were from the church, some were family friends, and others were truckers my Grandfather knew. I remember my grandfather leading me to the bedroom with one of the truckers. He paid my grandfather, looked at me from outside and then he closed the door behind him. The lights were off and the dim light of the sun was shining through the sheer curtains. He forced my mouth open and I choked on him, i ran to the trash can and threw up. As i was leaned over, he raped me. I couldn't stop throwing up, when that was over he moved me and forced himself into my mouth again. His legs were pinning my arms down onto the carpet. I couldnt move or struggle. I could look over and see myself in the closet mirror. After he was done, there was throw up on my face and neck and semen stuck in my hair. He left the room and my grandfather told me to wash myself in the bathroom sink. I was crying and sniffling and trying to brush the fluid out of my hair. I tried to scrub my tongue with my hands. Everything stunk. When I wasnt with my grandparents, I was at home. Name 2 started babysitting me, and one day she told me and my brother we had to go with her to a doctors appointment for her feet. We went with her, as me and my brother sat in the room with her the doctor kept injecting things into her toes. They laughed and smiled at me and my brother as it was happening, we were very uncomfortable and confused. After that she told my brother to go sit in the lobby. We were alone in the doctors office and she brought out a video camera. The doctor laid me down onto the table and raped me while she recorded. I struggled as much as I could but again I was powerless. Afterwards I was numb and repressed again, I remember she told me to go pee afterwards and I did. I was disoriented and confused, not remembering how I got there. A couple weeks later I had told my mother that I got raped by a doctor. I had acted out what he did but I didn't have the words to say rape or assault. My mom told my dad and they sat me down and told me that what happened to me was wrong, and that I needed to tell them about it. At that point I had forgotten even mentioning it, i had completely forgotten that it happened, so I had nothing to say. Life moved on, they asked Name 2 about it, and she lied, saying that I left the room with my brother afterward. I continued being assaulted and trafficked by my grandfather for the following years. Constantly forgetting. When I was 11 it ended. I assume he was no longer interested because I had started puberty. I spent the next years living with my mother. She was neglectful and constantly drunk or high. I was constantly starving and underweight, when I saw my father on the weekends we fought but I didn't remember anything that had happened. Every part of me became depressed and confused. I dropped out of school in 8th grade. My mom told me that I had told her about the doctor that year, My entire life changed. At that point I didn't even remember being raped once. I went into a state of bipolar mania and psychosis. This went on for 7 months, then I went to my grandparents again. They were moving far away and there was a family reunion before they left. I remember being alone with my grandfather on the couch, he caressed my thigh with his hand. I was oblivious to everything that happened. I kept looking at things on my phone and ignored him. He said something odd, which I can no longer remember. I looked at him with confusion, and he sighed and left me alone after a prolonged silence. It didn't sit right with me. That month, after I went back home, memories started coming to me. I didn't know that starting then, I would spend all of my highschool years in a cycle of recovering memories, getting used to them, and then recovering more. I lost every friend I had. Except for my boyfriend I met online when I was 13. He was the only one who cared about anything that happened to me. I told him almost everything. He was a survivor of constant sexual abuse throughout his childhood as well. We understood each other. Now, I have just turned 18. I start college in the fall. I've gone no contact with my father. I've told my mother about everything, she told me my dad had sexually assaulted her and other women as well. And that they found money in my grandfathers mattress, also that he was probably selling drugs as well. Though she has not given me an apology for her neglect, and shows that she doesn't feel sorry for me at all. I'm dedicating every day to nurturing myself, since my parents can't. My journey isn't over, there's so much I don't understand still, but I know now that I will be okay. Most days I feel this awful shame. Like Im not meant to be alive. Like my body is all I was ever good for, like nobody cares about me at all or will ever understand. While most people couldn't understand the pain of what I've gone through, that's not what's important. I'm here for myself and I'm soon getting engaged with my boyfriend that I mentioned earlier. Things get better every day. I will not allow myself to feel this shame anymore. I'll share my story until I physically can't anymore. As soon as I submit this story I will not let it control me any longer. Thank you if you read this far.

i have autism and i had been raped in my old class by a old man that looked like Putin, his face looked familiar but i can't verify it because i had never went to the hospital for rape check expect other things, i was having urinary incontinence for months and after months when the female police came i told her that my weeks old baby fall down the toilet after taking the pill She didn't write her note. only when she write it when my abusive and manipulated father tell her that i had "paranoia" and bah bah bah with evil-looking voice. i had been verbally abused and mocked after telling my parents about the sexual abuse at my home and then after that i decided to silence myself to avoid being abused again. i just wanna share with you i thought i can't because i was afraid i will get killed and getting taken down, i hate being slienced. i hate the way that my government and social media didn't provide accessible help but i finally found this website that i can share it with you.