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In my original shared story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I talked about my abuse from a bird’s eye view. It was my abuse life as I was able to share it at the time. I have been working up to sharing 3 instances of rapes that I only avoided by allowing the men to take what they wanted instead of fighting. The most traumatic of the three incidents I mentioned involved a police officer. This is that account. I was pulled over on my way home from a study group as junior at the university on a week night. We had shared two drinks toward the end. I DO NOT condone driving and drinking but I was not drunk, as the breathalyzer later confirmed. I was pulled over and already had the nerves associated with that, amplified by the fact that I was under the legal drinking age for another three weeks. That is when I first met the cop I will just call SIK. He gave me a creepy vibe when I first saw him and that never stopped. Still, I flirted with him to an extent desperate to not get it huge trouble. He had me get out of the car, take of my hoodie, under which I only had a basic sports bra. It was only sixty degrees or so that night. I was cold and shivering from fear and the temperature. I saw him look at my body with no filter. Another cop car pulled up with two officers while I was doing the field sobriety tests. He had already searched me in an uncomfortable way. One of the officers who arrived was female and also searched me after he had said I had some problems with the sobriety tests. Walking backwards on an imaginary line heel to toe was the only thing I had trouble with. It is hard! The female cop brought out the breath test I had asked for. I blew 0.035. That is less than half the legal limit. At that point SIK said he was just going to follow me home, rather than arrest me, and the other car left. The whole stop took maybe an hour. Cars drove by on the side street I had pulled onto. Headlights and tail lights in the dark. After the other car left SIK talked to me more harshly and threatening than ever. He said a girl like me is probably used to getting away with everything. He asserted that he could still take me to jail anytime he decides as as he takes me home and makes sure I am safe everything I do is still a test. He could bust me for possession of alcohol and I would lose my license. I was scared. I told him my roommate was home. She was a student too and was supposed to be there. After following me inside my apartment I called out for my roommate. Then I checked her room. She was not there! SIK then accused me of lying to a police officer and locked the deadbolt from the inside. He made me stand with my hands on my own dining room wall with my legs spread. I wanted to call her so he could talk to her and confirm she was usually there, but he stopped me and made me just text her to see when she would be home. He gave instruction not to ask or say anything more and checked before I sent it. She was at her sisters and would not be back until late. At that point he took off his utility belt and put it on my kitchen counter. He told me after all he had done for me was no longer free, since I lied to him. His gun was right there next to us. He made sure I saw it and he even twisted it so it was pointed toward me. I was scared and pleading with him. I really was willing to do anything. I am not sure but I think I told him that. He radioed from his shoulder thing that he was taking a “lunch” break. What I definitely remember was when he said he was going to do a proper strip search this time, down to full nudity and asked if I agreed to that. At that point I no longer had a doubt what was happening. I made the mental adjustment but what he did was more than I had prepared for. He gave me vulgar compliments about my body as he blatantly molested me. He kneaded my breasts like dough. He fingered me as asked if you could use a special appendage he had that went farther in. I knew what he meant. I was repulsed but I agreed. After the initial eager sex with me still having my hands on the wall leaning forward he slowed down. I had been hoping it was almost over but he decided to prolong it. He commanded me to my bedroom. He took off all his clothes besides his socks. He complemented his own anatomy and made me agree. His member was well above average in size but I doubt, if he had not had a wedding band on, that he would ever get to use it. He was half bald, had a prominent eyebrow like a neanderthal, and a pale beer belly with lots of moles all over his body. He had a mustache and goatee that did not completely hide his poor complexion that looked like he had scars from severe acne. Almost all men all taller than me but he was short and only towered over me by a few inches. Never had I lied bigger than when I told him what he wanted to hear about being sexy and wanting him. The only truth was about his large penis. SIK spoke a lot, mostly degrading me and confirming that I agree with him. Cliche stuff, like me being a whore, slut, dirty, and liking what he made me do to him, but also asked about my sex life and abuse history. He wanted me to say that my dad and coaches abused me, but I would not lie about that. Instead I told him some of the truth about my brother abusing me. That was probably the worst part. Saying out loud to SIK what I never used to admit to anyone, for his great pleasure, harmed me. That was worse that the physical stuff. Worse than making me kiss him during parts of it. He was also cruel. He tried to gag me and push all the way down my throat while he made him do oral. He pushed my ankles behind my head while he pounded me with his abusing thrusts. I could see the cruel lust in his eyes. I could see his wicked smile. He slapped my face many times, just not very hard. He did spank me hard. He realized he had me captive and vulnerable to his whim and he was finally living his darkest fantasies. I was doing anything he wanted and encouraging it because I wanted it to stop. So many times he stopped himself right before he was going to climax! He did not want it to end. SIK tried to have anal sex with me and I was accommodating him but he was just too big to fit. I was crying during most of this out of pain but trying to act like an eager partner to make it end. I later thought that might have prolonged it. SIK was probably the time that would prefer I suffer more, like I was being raped instead of hiding my pain. It was not much longer than twenty minutes but it was so bad and I relived it so many times in my mind before I got smashed drunk and high the next night after work. So the memory lived much more prominently in my head than a simple 25 minute encounter. I do reach climax easily, but I never had one orgasm from him because of his preference for causing sexual pain. When he suddenly released inside me he got quiet and barely said another word as he dressed, gun belt and all, and left quietly. I have no idea what that meant. It scared me. I was afraid while driving for a while, and avoided sleeping at home as much as I could, which sometimes meant sleeping with men and even male friends just to not go home. It was the main reason I did not renew my lease and moved it to a smaller apartment by myself. This was the same roommate whose father had already slept with me without my initial blessing. I did tell my roommate a short version of it and she reacted like it was cool story. I did kind of tell it that way, as a way of dealing with it. The easy path of least resistance. To not admit it may have been the worse sexual thing to happen to me. The true worst things that happened to me in my college years were broken hearts from losing men I loved. But those are stories for a different forum. I don’t put my heart out there to be trampled anymore. This incident was one of the wake up calls that stood out as an omen for me to change my whole lifestyle and try to salvage myself. It was also one of the things that took me the longest to mention to my therapist even though I thought about it during sessions.

This story, my story, started 25 or 24 years ago, when I was 7 or 8 years of age. I was sexually abused (once only but enough to make an impact) by my dad, the first person that's meant to protect you. I never told a soul about it, no one but myself knew it during those 25 years, and even I did not want to think about it. As the years went I learnt to put it at the back of my mind, it was to painful, disgusting and worst of all, I was ashamed, ashamed for something I didn't do, but something that someone too close to me did instead. I learnt to push back if that memory ever came back to me. I grew (somehow) very closed to my dad, and pretended that never happened; only last year I learnt that very action has a name, and it's called compartimentalising. It was only last year, when I started to have issues with anxiety to another level that I finally, when I was about to have a nervous break down, decided that it was time to say it out loud. Weirdly enough, I never had considered myself a victim of sexual abuse... and the words 'sexual abuse' were really difficult for me to mention when talking about what happened to me, although, over time I grew used them and more comfortable (it still hurts though). I was on therapy for over 10 months, followed by a 3 months of CTB course, I still have catch up calls with my therapist every now and then. The worst part of my therapy was, what my own body needed, and that was to seek my dad's accountability, the one which, after confronting him, still hasn't acknowledge, and let's be honest, he won't ever do it. But I learnt to move on not expecting that to happened and at least, my dad knows the big impact that one action that happened that one time, has badly affected my throughout these past years, and my present. I discovered that most people that has suffered this type of abuse tend to develop any sort of chronic pain condition, which I did at the age of 13, mostly from what it felt like, was eating me alive from the inside of my body. Discovering the condition I have had for more than half of my life, is there because of my dad, was no easy discovery and that's where the panic attacks started. As you can imagine, and like all of you, it's been a long healing process. My 4 most important things that really helped me through my healing process (unfinished healing process) were: - My support network (my friends as family only found out after and they still don't know who did it). - Exercising, the best thing I have done for my mental health. - An incredible manager at work who supported me throughout my journey - And (unfortunately) antidepressants to manage better anxiety, as it got really bad at some points. I know, my healing isn't over, I know I might never get what I really want which is that accountability, but at least I know that what ever I decide to do, I'm now (mostly) in control, not my dad or my fears. We all still have bad days, but at least now I know, I'm not alone.

I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

Hi, I'm Name, and this is my story. If I was to go back to 8 years old me and tell her everything that was waiting for her in the future. She wouldn’t believe you… She wouldn’t be able to understand how something so objectively wrong could happen to someone so sweet and innocent like herself. Growing up I have realised that a lot of shit happens to a lot of people. It’s life, and we are put here to experience life, but that doesn’t mean we should be silent about the bad things that we go through. Change starts with one person at a time… In September 2021, I was spiked , sexually assaulted and robbed in the same night. I had been out with a friend and we had met two guys. I remembered everything up until this very moment but the rest was in blurry snippets. I had no control of what was happening when I was snapping in and out of consciousness. I woke up the next morning in a panic with my clothes stripped from my body. My phone and macbook had been taken from my bedroom and my front door was wide open. Life suddenly became very scary and very confusing. The experience didn’t just stop at the assault. There was so much more to come. DNA testing, interviews after interviews with the police, getting told it was his word against mine, getting told I would just be seen as a drunk uni student… The list was endless. I was forced to move out of my house because I couldn't bear to live there anymore. I couldn't sleep in that bedroom anymore. I would never be able to feel safe in that home again. At that time , I felt absolutely disgusted with myself. I felt ashamed and worthless and even felt strange around my own family for a while, I couldn't look at myself without feeling sick. All I could picture was 8 year old me. That little innocent girl, full of so much purity, love and happiness. Someone did that to her… I suffered with PTSD for a while and this affected every aspect of my life, including my sex life, self worth, education and mental health. I am now experiencing PTG ( Post Traumatic Growth ) . PTG is the positive psychological growth that a person might experience after enduring a traumatic event. Recently I have seen a shift in how I view life. I have become more spiritually aware and can control my emotions better than ever. I do this by observing my thoughts which I practise through meditation. This allows me to see the positive outcomes of any situation. I have stopped asking “Why did this have to happen to me?” and started asking “Why is this happening?”. I’ve begun channelling my emotions through my Design practice which has led me to have a stronger outlook on my situation. However I realise that this is not the case for many other women and I feel lucky to have gotten where I am mentally. I want to tell my story , not just for me but for other women. For all the women that have experienced any form or sexual assault or harassment. I want you to know that it’s not okay. It's not normal and we shouldn't be quiet about it. These are our bodies and our vessels and nobody should ever be able to just do what they want with it and say what they want about it. It's not right. We shouldn't have to feel unsafe walking home at night, we shouldn't have to hold our keys in between our knuckles, we shouldn't have to avoid certain routes home because of the lighting in the area, we shouldn't have to pull down our skirts to stop men from getting aroused, we shouldn’t have to cover our drinks when we go out, we shouldn't have to pretend to be on the phone in order to feel safe, we shouldn't have to avoid getting on public transport because we are scared of getting groped, we shouldn't be verbally and physically abused… We shouldn't have to stay silent. I’m not going to stay silent

I Say No More because there are too many of us living and struggle with our everyday lives because we are ashamed about what another person has done to us. Me for an example; my abuse was on and off throughout my childhood. The longest lasted 4 years. By me staying silent for so long, to I have PTSD, Emotional Disorder and Depression. I had to learn how to gain control of my life that I didn't know for the longest that I could. I'm taking it one step at a time. See those people may have took away my childhood but they couldn't take away my LOVE, JOY and now my PEACE away.

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

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.

Aged 9, my neighbour who wasn't a great deal older than me wanted to play with me all the time. After some time he told me he wanted to show me something which he knew I'd like, it would be good for me but it must not be told to our parents. I said no, sensing it was probably not good territory to go into. But he kept on insisting. He went on so much i eventually said yes. I think I was nervous but also excited and intrigued because it felt a bit like an adventure and fun because no one knew. He had knowledge of something I didn't. I don't remember too many exact details but I know it started out as sexual exploration of our bodies. If often happened on sleep overs. And the aim, I became to gradually understand, was sexual stimulation, mainly of me... and I think this in turn sexually gratified him. This went on for months and turned into, by my calculations, between 18 months - 2 years. (I know I was 11 when it stopped - just before starting secondary school). At some point, he was figuring out and attempting to have sex with me. I've always found this hard to classify as rape because he was a child. Although he wasn't much older than me he was pubescent and I wasn't. So although not fully grown, he was able to penetrate to some degree. I often couldn't breathe under his weight and I also felt sick at the overwhelming nature of it all. But despite this I was still able to orgasm (and this brings alot of shame to me today because I some how feel like I must have wanted it as I didn't say no and my body responded). But in truth, I had no idea that saying no was even an option. It didn't exist. I felt I was doing him a wrong by saying no and so I often just let him do what he wanted. He'd often tell me he loved me, which was simultaneously wanted by me (I was lonely in my own family system), and yet it also felt wrong and I felt objectified and sick. At one point, I became more understanding of how reproduction worked. I became petrified that I would fall pregnant (even though I hadn't started my periods, my belief was I was going to get pregnant), and I started worrying obsessively about it. I couldn't talk to anyone in my family about it because the shame was too strong and I felt at all costs I must keep it hidden. Which I still have to this day. Eventually I told him that I was scared and worried of pregnancy. He seemed surprised like this hadn't crossed his mind. But it wasn't enough to make him stop. So it continued for longer. Eventually I got the courage after what felt like a very long time in agony in this situation I didn't know how to get out of, I decided to tell him I wanted to stop. He begged at first not to. But I held my ground. I said we'd have to stop being friends if he continued asking. And that's when he turned from 'nice' to being emotionally threatening. He told me he was going to tell everyone what I'd done, how disgusting I'd been. And he did infact tell a few people. The damage this period of my life has done to me is indescribable. Mainly the self loathing and shame I've experienced and which formed part of my identity/ my idea of who I am as I developed. It's not a part of my life I can section off and compartmentalise because it's effected how I see the world, myself and other people, resulting in dissociative sypmtoms. I haven't allowed myself to see what I experienced as abuse because he was a child too. I always behoves believed I was bad because I consented. I'm only just realising with therapy that 9 year olds can't consent. That there was a power differential between us in very different and quite subtle ways. But that being trapped in that situation for so long was very real for me. There didn't need to be physical violence to keep me in it. I'm slowly learning to reframe what happened to take the self blame off of me. He was a child too and the reality was we both needed help and were let down by parents who weren't present enough to stop the situation unravelling. He was likely being abused himself. Whilst I have empathy for this side of things, I feel I need to protect my position in what happened because, in cocsa, more often than not, I see the child who does the harmful sexual behaviour as being put before the child who was harmed in terms of their needs. This is because it's necessary to stop that behaviour and because it's assumed they are being abused by another, likely adult, source. But the kid who's been abused has very real consequences to deal with and more often than not cocsa is not treated seriously enough. There's little validation from a societal pov making it hard to speak up and own our experiences openly. I have all the trademark effects of SA and I'm learning to now accept this and try to own it without minimising what happened. In the hope that when I can recognise this myself I can move on.

Im struggling to get my head around what to do and who to speak to. I was comfortably asleep and cuddling my boyfriend and had my head kind of on top of him, i woke up slightly and he was moving my hand to his crotch that was h*rd and at that point i was wide awake with my eyes still closed wondering what he was doing, i opened them a little and pretended i was moving in my sleep but he kept on using force moving my whole arm and hand to touch him and i didnt know what to do so i was still and he took out his phone like he was gonna take a picture. He knows i wouldnt want to do that and I dont know what to do or how to feel, i confronted him about it when i ‘woke up’ and i was in shock shaking, we were arguing and he started crying and long story short i ended up comforting him. he never truly said sorry once and i just feel lost because i have so much love for him but i genuinely never want to be with him again but the thought of never speaking to him again hurts me, and i know he wouldnt live without me. which is what scares me because im the only one there for him, i dont know what he would do without me. i just need help on a decision please im feeling very alone in this.

On Feb.Day, Year my live in boyfriend of 9 years tried to murder me with not 1, but 2 aluminum baseball bats. It started around 10 p.m. on the night of the Date and nobody found me until 8:30 on the morning of the Date Needless to say they thought they had their first murder case for the year of Year. As I sit here today I am blind in one eye. I had facial and cranial reconstruction. I am left with metal plates in my face. I also have metal rods, pins and screws throughout both of my arms. I have some brain damage. For the first 3 days of being in the hospital I was in surgery. I was in a 5-day coma. And as I was in surgery on that first day, they had to hunt him down. They finally tracked him in City, State. And they charged him with attempted murder, kidnapping, terroristic threats and also having a stolen firearm while being a felon. And he is in prison where he will die. And I am here to warn women and men that are in violent relationships to get out as soon as possible!

I was only 15. I convince myself it was my fault for not speaking up or saying no more clearly. For just freezing up and letting it happen. I wish I didn’t feel this pain. The flashbacks and feeling the crawl under my skin. I cant enjoy the beach anymore. I get scared if someone tries to grab or hold my wrist. The certain way water touches my skin makes me sick and relive. I cant wear certain clothes anymore. All I want is to heal. To come to some sort of peace with this. I’ve only just started to speak out about my rape after 2 years and I’m glad I have, but it’s still so overwhelming.

I was 18 and had gone back to a friend of an old friend of mine's house. I was there with him (H), his friend (J - who's house it was) my closest female friend (E) and a few others. We drank a lot and we ended up playing strip poker. I didn't feel totally comfortable with it at the time but wanted to join in. As we were playing, it became my turn to take my top off, so I did. I went to the toilet but wasn't sure where to go in this house I wasn't familiar with. J offered to show me to the toilet and I accepted. He kissed me on the way there and picked me up and took me to his bedroom. I didn't mind, and then it got a bit intense and I stopped feeling okay with it. I was hoping my friend (E) would notice I was missing. He tried to have sex with me and I kept refusing, eventually, I just let it happen. I heard E shouting up to me from downstairs and J got angry, he stopped and told me to go downstairs. It was 4:30am and he threw us out of his house in the thick snow. I remember how cold the walk was. I felt so vulnerable, drunk and scared in that moment. There was only one person we felt we could call and that was a drug dealer we had known, he was a man other men were wary of so we thought he would be the safest option (looking back, I have 0 idea why we thought that was a good idea). The next morning I told my friend E what had happened, J was someone she knew fairly well and she was disgusted when I told her. She phoned him straight away and he denied everything, said I was lying. I'll never forget that instant wave of doubt. Was I lying? Had I led him on? Was it my fault for playing strip poker with everybody? 5 years later and I still doubt my memory, doubt whether I was raped or not. Rape. It's such a strong word isn't it?

When I was 14-18, I was in an abusive relationship, but at the time, I could not see it. This boy was controlling, manipulative and he forced himself on me when I said no. He was physically violent and tried to prevent me from going to university. Whenever I tried to escape the relationship, he would threaten to kill himself, and I was also scared of him. I never had any time to myself as he would be there. I was not allowed to have any male friends on social media, and I could not hang out or talk to any boys. I was not allowed to wear certain clothing, and he told me I was ugly and should wear makeup. I use to self-harm because I cut my emotions out, and I wanted to feel something. One day I told him that I did not want to be with him anymore and that I was going to university. He again told me he would kill himself, but at that point, I told him I did not care, and I managed to get out. He has since been arrested and kicked out of his home. This relationship has scared me since I'm now 28.

I have lived through many battles, some visible and some invisible. Chronic pain has been a constant companion, and alongside it came experiences of assault, grief, bullying, and being overlooked or targeted in the workplace. Each of these left scars that ran deeper than I could admit at the time. For years, I tried to hold it all in — the pressure, the pain, the silence through alcohol and substances. But it built until I couldn’t contain it anymore, and I crashed hard. My mental health episode was frightening, for me and for those around me. What has made it harder is the culture I grew up in. In South Asian communities, mental health is often brushed aside, stigmatized, or seen as weakness. Instead of compassion, I felt shame. Instead of understanding, I carried guilt. I believed I had let down the people I loved most. But I am learning that what happened was not my fault. Trauma is not a choice. Crashes are not punishments. They are the body and mind crying out for care. I am still here. I am learning to see my sensitivity and survival not as flaws, but as proof of resilience. Sharing my story is part of releasing the shame and reclaiming my voice. My hope is that others who have lived through pain and silence — especially in communities where mental health is hidden — can know they are not alone. Our stories matter. Our survival matters.

I was around 14-15 I was assaulted by someone I know I was so scared for such a long time scared to share my story but now I’m ready He used to always make me feel really guilty for the things he did to me He used to touch me inappropriately he was older I thought I was to blame for a while I blamed myself for what happened but I realise now that I need to share my story to help others out there struggling I fell into unhealthy coping mechanisms everyone handles trauma differently but I found help and reached out to friends and family and shared it with them

I am a looked after child. Well, that is what most people know me for. Being looked after is not this lucky life where you have two families, it is a life that no one wishes for. When I was little, I thought it was a good thing, something to be thankful for. I am thankful but not in all aspects. I hate being known as a looked after child and I have my reasons. In primary school I was put in a corner. None of the teachers believed in me. Most of them gave up on me. The truth is, I missed quite a big chunk of my education as a little girl as my birth mother did not take me to school a lot of the time. So, when I finally got the chance to go to school, I was quite a bit behind than the rest. I agree, I was challenging as I did not know the things I should at the age of 6. But my carers (who I now call mum and dad) believed in me, they helped me read and write. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be where I am today. So going back to what I was saying; I was put in a corner and at the time I thought that’s what I was meant to do- dress up all day long with a bit of carpet time here and there. But I’ve grown to know that this was very wrong. In high school I was put with all the looked after children. To me it was just like meeting new people but in my parents eyes it was me being put with the rest. People think that because you are looked after, you won’t excel in life like everyone else. They are wrong. I have proved that this is wrong. I put my head down and worked at my best ability, I am determined to achieve high in life and no one is taking that from me. See being fostered is all good. There is the bad parts too. I feel like I am stuck between two families. One I love and one I don’t know anymore. My birth mums life is like a shadow to me, I don’t know of it. Where I am now is my home and no one can take this from me. This is my story. Sometimes, I just want to be normal. one family and jobs a good one. But no I can't. This is me and if those around me don't like it then they shouldn't stick around. I am still a human. Nothing different. Just a horrible past.

Hello, I'm a young female I'm here to share my story of surviving domestic abuse and emotional abuse including rape, I also had a rough childhood being abroad when I was young and I was physically bullied by young boys, I still remember being physically kicked in the stomach and having my hair grabbed and pulled into lockers, large garbage bins and brick walls, knowing that no one will help me or support me while this is happening, what hurt more is your mother is seeing this happening, I am extremely quiet and reserved person and this was the start to my horrible life, I came back to UK and I was teased and picked on theough out the whole of my life, and back then I just turned 20 years and got my first boyfriend I've never had a boyfriend before so I didn't know the signs of a good relationship and a bad relationship, after a couple month my boyfriend turned into this sweet caring person into this controlling, Manipulative and emotionally abusing me, he refused me seeing any of my friends, at any cost I am a huge gamer fan and if I played games with my friends he would call me Constantly to make sure that all my focus is on him, I was slowly losing contact with my friends, to the point he was the only person I was allowed to talk, and then he forced me and pressured me to getting a implant to stop pregnancy, I was didn't want the implant or to have sex with him I was completely petrified of him but he started shouting and getting physically close if I didn't do it so out of fear I went to get the implant in, I still didn't want to have sex with him, fastward to my 21st birthday it was the big day I was 21, and my boyfriend forced me to come to his house so we can spend sometime with him and he asked me if the implant was in effect amd I told him yes which now after years of looking back I regret saying yes to him, he pushed me down the bed and forcing kissing me and touching me I was pushing him to get off but he grabbed my throat so I couldn't scream or say anything, he used his weight against mine and forcing my clothes to come off he then pinned me down so I can't fight back and particularly raped me on my birthday and the amount of pain I was in after him forcing himself on me and that I pretty much in so much pain and sore from the experience I was Traumatised of someone who I trusted who I would die for would do such a thing, after the experience I was bleeding non stopped of the sexual assault, I couldn't say anything of this with my family because of the Generation difference, the abuse Continued after that, I remember him holding my hand to the point it went from him squeezing my hand so hard and refunsed me talking to anyone not even to my best friend at the time, and he would hit when no-one was around, fastward to Valentine's day me and boyfriend at the time we went out to celebrate I was already scared of him but I must comply to his demands we were going into the restaurant and forbid me to eat and he was the only one to eat food and get me to paid for the food he ate as well, I refused to pay for the food and without any warning he so hard in the face which knocked me to floor with my eyes watering I paid for the food, to my horror that no-one would step in and protect me just sat there staring at me for this experience, we both left and I went home and I had to remind that nothing happened and even hiding my face from the trauma of being hit, Continued to remain normal with my family, the next day we both spend all evening 5 hours on a voice call but in Silence no one would say a thing in the call until one evening when I was wanted to be alone and have a quiet evening so I ended the call but to my surprise my boyfriend called me right back swearing and yelling and even shouting at me for ending the call without his permission, as this maybe me even more petrified of him and was scared of him no matter what mood he was in, and one day me and him were hanging out with his place and I bought him some food and he had a go at me for getting him the wrong food and turned his back to me until I came back with the food he wanted, so I did returned while a special request with the shop owner that is what he wanted and he came back with the item I wanted for him and I paid and walked out and I got back and showed and he grabbed the item from me not even thanking me for going through that trouble and and I was on edge with him the the rest of the time I was there, he turned around and started kissing me and I told him no I was feeling a bit under the weather and feeling sore he back off turning his back to me then all a sudden he turns and grabs me and pinned me down and started sexually assaulting me, as I was crying from the pain, after a whole year of this abuse as I ended it with him, I was so petrified of him because he was so angry when I ended and then he started accusing me that I was cheating on me which I don't believe in cheating I've never believed in it, and he still continues to accusing me of cheating, which I denied this was happening and he would pick fights with me I was so scared of him already but I continued to stay strong because of my family then he would started using pictures of me I was wearing dresses which owned and started saying I was Exploiting or showing guys that I wanted s*x from.them which was not true and the worse of it my mum was already manipulated by him and she told me off because of he was saying when she didn't even let me explain and I've never felt alone, I couldn't tell anyone of my experience of abuse and sexual assault to my family because they would judge me saying this my fault and I let this happen after ward two weeks he started trying to Stalk me on dating websites to try and to control who I was seeing under his control and the next day my friend decided for me to travel on another bus then him and we both sat down and he then suddenly got on the same bus, I was so scared at this point where I was shaking and my friend was distracting me and when we got off my stop my friend came with me to make sure I got home safe, and I saw the bus leave my friend and me were waiting for my mum when to my horror my ex came charging at me with his hands on the air and the rage in his eyes and tongue out and started having a go at me saying I have explaining to do when I have no explanation to him he didn't deserve my explanation as my Friend started talking to him and telling to go to the police about his state then he walked off and my mum arrived and took my friend home and we got home and that I've never been so scared after a couple of weeks the last thing my ex boyfriend said to me after walking past me on my normal bus and he quickly said to me "I must go die" and how this guy has ruined my life, after 9 years going on 10 years I've been pretty much alone not being able to talk to anyone amd this guy is able to kill me with the way he use to hit me and assault me thinking he was in the right, so after 9 years going on 10 years I have reminded in hiding and I live in a different county now but the effects of this still remain after the whole year of his abuse as affected me for the rest of my life, i even ended up in another relationship with a guy but he was the exactly the same as my first ex and now my trust is completely destroyed in my life and now I will still be friends with men but no longer get close or even start a relationship with any men, I am now left with PDSD, my anxiety is through the room, I suffer with flash backs of his abuse, but I still haven't told my family of the abuse I went through amd I still hear the word my last ex told me to go die, but I can tell you now I've done this courage to write out for people to hear my story and if your going through is your not alone and if i managed to get out of two abusive relationship you can as well amd it's been a real eye opener for me and since ive been alone I've never felt so safe because no one can hurt me unfortunately I do suffer with crying outburst or extreme mental breakdowns because of this abuse amd trauma. And this is my story

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

I've suffered sexual, physical and emotional abuse in not one but two relationships in my life.......It began back in Date I'd come out of a long-term relationship of 5yrs and probably on the rebound (although I didn't think that at the time as a tender 23yr old) met a guy in our local pub. He seemed nice enough and we entered into a relationship. Soon though the signs appeared, gaslighting, name calling, eroding my self-esteem. I stupidly ignored the signs and continued in the relationship, even marrying him! The night before we were due to be married I was in floods of tears but his sister said it was probably just pre-wedding nerves (no-one knew how I was suffering at his hands) I should've called it off, kicked him out of MY house and got on my life, but you become so embroiled in everything, and it becomes 'normal' to feel scared, anxious and dependant on this person, totally alienated from friends, family and anyone who wasn't 'him'. I was controlled monetarily, emotionally in every aspect of my life, how I dressed, where I went, how much money I spent and became increasingly isolated and DEPENDANT on him! I was working a full time job earning more than him, but couldn't spend a penny without checking with him first, and I stupidly went along with it. I received phone calls and text pretty much all the time checking where I was, with whom, what I was doing, I was CONTROLLED. The abuse happened regularly emotional, physical, mental and financial but I was so scared and lost......I FEARED him and became like a cornered animal with nowhere to turn. When our daughter turned 2 I finally realised that I had to get out, I didn't want her to think this was what a relationship looked like. That was the hardest decision I've ever made in my life! After 9yrs I was free, but was I? No, the emotional scars ran very deep and I was a shadow of the person I once was, I was petrified of everything, but I had a child who relied on me. I bought my own house, divorced him and tried to adapt to my new life............ Fast forward to the end of another failed marriage nearly a decade ago, I'm in my late 40's by now, own my own home, work, own a car etc, but sadly lacking in friends I'd lost them all years before and the few remaining were all married so I joined a dating website and matched with a man who I'd known years ago as a teenager. We started a relationship. This man stripped away everything I'd rebuilt, he tormented me, followed me, abused me, he'd turn up in supermarkets when I was shopping. I'd entered into another nightmare situation, but occasionally I fought back, literally!! I'd stupidly given him a key to my house, and if I tried to end things he'd let himself in, hound me with phone calls, flowers, the usual tactics abusers turn to. I couldn't even look out of the car windows on journeys as I'd be accused of 'looking' at men! One night though, he thought he'd killed me, he pushed me on a night out and my head hit the pavement hard, I was so dazed I laid there, not sure whether I lost consciousness We spent 10 months together, and then he collapsed and died on my bedroom floor at 50yrs old, and God forgive me, but I was free! He wouldn't ever harass me again, he was gone............And this time I was free, totally free. And that is my story, without the hideous details of the level of abuse I suffered as no-one needs to read all the details, it triggers me even now thinking back, but I survived, I'm still recovering and always will be, but I'm now 55, married to the love of my life, my soulmate, my safe place.

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.