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I was in a abusive marriage for many years. I never told anyone and was incredibly ashamed of myself and what I was allowing to happen. He was a military man. We moved around and I had few friends. We had children. One girl from my previous relationship and 2 children together. He sexually abused me. The last time resulted in my 3rd child. Years later my oldest child told me he was "touching" her. I reported it immediately and ne er doubted my child. A few months later, my 2nd child told me the same. He had raped her. Needless to say, I reported both abuses. And I left him. Moved out of state. He did some prison time, remarried and has built a new life for himself. 20 years later I am still angry, full of hate towards him and sickened by the thought of him. He was a registered sex offender, but after 20 years he petitioned to be removed. Time goes by and I'm okay. Other times I am depressed, full of anger, sadness, bitterness, grief & so much more. Not sure what I want to do? Do I need more therapy? Do I have Ptsd? My kids thank goodness, have turned out well. Me, sometimes I wonder.

I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

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.

Date, around Time I went on a date with him (a correctional officer), thinking it was an opportunity to become acquainted with him as a friend, but it turned out to be a horrific night which I would only remember parts of. He picked me up in his white pickup truck; it smelled of cologne and winterfresh gum. Two smells I will never forget. He took me to a dirty dive bar without asking where to go. I already didn’t feel safe, and I regret that I never said anything to this day. I got my first drink, rum and coke. Keep in mind that my glass was smaller than a coffee mug. We started talking, and he told me he used to be in the army. He seemed to be trying hard to persuade and impress me, but I was not falling for it. The taste of my drink was no different than I had before. I was nearly done with my first drink when he asked if I wanted another, and I agreed. He returned with another and asked if I wanted to play darts, and I again agreed. I took one drink of my second rum and coke he brought to me and started to feel dizzy, tired, and weak. I didn’t say anything yet. I continued with darts. By then, he gave me a third drink, I don’t remember if I even had a drink of it. I do recall saying, ‘I wanted to go home,’ and we left out the side door to his white pickup truck. I don’t remember getting inside the front seat, let alone the backseat. My eyes flickered open and closed, waking me to see him face-to-face. Raping me, I am frozen in shock. Disgusted by what he was saying to me. When he was done, he threw a towel on me and told me to ‘clean up.’ He tossed my shoe onto my nude body and said, ‘Now I will take you home.’ Twenty degrees outside, I was nude in a familiar parking lot. I got dressed. He took me home; no words were exchanged. Once I got in my house, I went straight into the shower and cried. I was a virgin He took my innocence from me that I can never get back. Date 2, around Time 2 Sitting in my office, He came in unannounced and sat down in a chair by the door. I looked up, feeling uneasy. I asked him, ‘what was he doing?’ He replied as he got up from his chair, ‘I know you want this cock.’ He blocked me between my seat, the wall, and my desk, I had nowhere to go. He unzipped his pants and grabbed a handful of my hair, and forcefully give him oral sex. This time I remember the whole brutal rape. Pushing, gagging, and choking only made him put more force and hurt upon me. His strength was unbearable. When it was over, he threw a piece of winterfresh gum at me and left. Crying, feeling dirty, guilty, and shameful, I put myself together and completed my day. Violated, not only once but twice, by the same guy. Once outside of work and the other inside work. After the first attack, I was broken inside, but the second attack really damaged me. If I told anyone, no one would believe me because he was a very well-liked person at work, and I was just a caseworker. My sisters were the first to know about the first assault in Date 3. I held back on the second as I felt they wouldn’t forgive me for allowing it to happen again. Date 4 I told my sisters about the second assault. I went to internal affairs, who sent me to detectives. They supposedly did an investigation, but boys will boys, and where I worked, they all stick together. The DA dropped the case. Date Range I now moved out of that county because of the triggers and the hope that my PTSD will get better with time. I feel stronger I told my story and know I am a survivor. I hope my story will become someone else’s survival guide. This happens when you are a strong, outspoken woman at the Location County Jail in Location, Pennsylvania.

I'm a 63-year-old woman who has endured abuse all of my life. The abuse started with my mother who was a narcissistic sociopath. She would beat me with a 2x4 shaped into a paddle so she could get a good grip on it. I would get beaten every single day. She would say the abuse was due to me wetting my underwear. I would have to take off my underwear every night and she would smell them. If they had even the slightest hint of urine that was enough of a reason to get beaten. It was like a catch 24, if I was out playing I wouldn't go home to go to the bathroom because I was afraid of getting beaten, but if I didn't go home to go to the bathroom I would get beaten. I spent my entire childhood in fear. She would steal my money, throw my things away, tell lies about me. She knew I was my father's favorite, so I wasn't allowed to speak to him. I was brainwashed to believe this was how every family lived. When I got married I married my mother. He also abused me. He would lie, cheat, and steal from me. I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. When I would go to my treatments I would take Fish crackers to help with the nausea. One day I went to the cupboard to get my crackers and they were all gone but one, just enough to make it look like they were still there and the container wouldn't have to be thrown away. I also was diagnosed with brittle bone disease. I was told I needed to drink alot of milk. We had a refrigerator in the garage where I would keep 5 gallons of milk, along with 1 gallon that was in the house refrigerator. One day I went out to the garage to get a gallon of milk and all 5 gallons were gone. He had drank all 5 gallons in just one week. Can you imagine doing that to your wife who has Stage IV breast cancer!!! He threw a hammer at my head as I was walking away from him. He burned our home to the ground and told the detectives I did it. He is also a narcissistic sociopath. While he was doing all this, he got my daughter to go along with him. She, as of today 10/11/25, is a liar, cheater, thief. She is abusive. She's only 25 and already has been married twice, has 2 children from each marriage and she hates them both. She uses her children as pawns to get her way. She has already used two childhood friends to try and get to me. I'm not stupid, I know what she's up to and I'm not falling for it. I've been divorced for 3 years now. I've changed my name, moved away, and started my life over, but she still finds me. I'm terrified of her. I know what she's capable of. I thought once I got divorced I would be free of the abuse, but I'm not. At this time, all I have is my faith that God will take care of me. God got me out of a horrific situation and I have faith the God will continue watching over me. I'm so happy I got out of my marriage, which lasted 35 years. The divorce took 3 years; the judge said it should've only taken 9 months. He wanted everything, so I gave him everything. The law needs to be trained to understand mental illness such as narcissistic sociopath to understand that they are prolific liars. My divorce attorney's husband even said, "he lies so well you almost have to believe him." That's the problem, the legal system believes them so the innocent get punished and the perpetrators get away with it.

Im still trying to heal through all of my issues, I stay isolated and quiet and find it hard to make friends sometimes. my story started years ago as a lil boy my my older cousin always kept touching on me and laughed it off until he took me upstairs and told me how good it would feel to me. I later cried and told family in front of him he laughed and they laughed but at least it stopped . other cousins would tell what happened to me to there friends making it awkward to be around people. but with time people forgot. fast forward 3 or so years i'm nine at least I think ,and my older female cousin tells me im pretty I should stop being shy she would show me how to have sex and be a ladies man. well she did but it didn't end there her and a friend of hers set me up with a girl my age and watched me have sex a few times with her until I got old enough to stay home by myself . today I much older but very hyper sexual and long story short my past has caused a lot of my problems. it feels good to finally tell somebody.

I was in an abusive relationship for 12 years. I met him when I was fourteen and we came together when I was fifteen. He was nice and lovely and I fell in love with him. I never thought that he could have a dark side. After a few month I began to realize, that there is something inside him. When we had our first fight, he screamed with me and I had so much fear. He apologized and I forgived him. But: It didn‘t stopped. He was verbal abusive. He said that I am a whore. He made me feeling small and like I am the worst person in the world. He said, that I am a psycho. He said I am a joke. He said I am nothing. He said, that he has to talk and scream with me like this, because I don‘t understand his points otherwise. He began to destroy things like my watch or a necklace. The walls had holes and he often grabbed me at my shoulders very hard when he got angry. When I cried, he became angrier at all. I locked myself in the toilet because I had so much fear of him. He also pushed me at the asphalt when he was drunk sometimes. I had bruises. One time he choked me. I never told anybody what happend, because I always forgived him and felt so fucking guilty. I tried to left him, but he always said, that he will kill himself, when I go. I went to therapy but even there I was so ashamed, that I didn‘t talk about the abuse. After two years of therapy I got stronger and stronger. I was ready to talk to somebody about the things that happend to me and that I want to leave him. Suddenly I felt free and was ready to go. He always said, that he loves me and that I am the love of his life. It never was love. I realized that I was in an abusive relationship. There were verbal, emotional and physical abuse. I didn't imagine any of it. I wasn't crazy. Whoever is reading this and is in a similar situation: You are strong! You are intelligent! You are beautiful! You are a good person! You can trust yourself! You can talk to someone! You can do this! You can leave him! You are a wonderful human being! I love you all out there and send you hugs. We have to share our stories and we are allowed to share them. Together we can change something.

I work with survivors of sexual violence as a part of my job...and it can be really difficult to engage in my own healing while I am constantly hearing the trauma of others. Most days are fulfilling. It is special to connect with folks who have experienced something similar to what you have...but it can also be uniquely isolating. I long for the community of survivors I often refer my clients to, but for some reason I feel a barrier to engaging in these services myself. "Too many people know me there," I rationalize...would they have concerns about me working with survivors if they knew I was a survivor myself? I was sexually assaulted by a massage therapist....something that I have very rarely said out loud but still think about nearly every day. I can still feel his sweat dripping onto my body...and have a visceral reaction to even raindrops falling on my bare skin. God I hate that guy...I don't even know where he is now, but I always wonder if what I did was enough. Did his boss take my accusation seriously? Why did I insist that I not be contacted again? I really wish I knew the outcome of my complaint... Despite this unknowing, I really feel like I have came a long way. The anger is still there yes, but my hatred for myself has slowly been materializing. Day by day things get easier, as I try to find spaces that make me feel seen and find people who understand why I do what I do. I hope I can do enough to make this world a little easier for those, like me, who often feel like they are suffering in silence. But I also hope I can rest. And love. And feel peace. Because now I realize I deserve that too.

It was 21 years ago and I have never told anyone. I lived with my first roommate, who I knew had some questionable friends. Nevertheless, I trusted her and our new, cute, little home. Until one night she had friends over. I didn't drink and wasn't into hard drugs. We had food, everyone else was drinking and having a good time. I don't remember anything after that, until I woke up in the middle of the night with a man, one of her 'friends', on top of me. He was inside of me as I laid on the middle of the floor. I could not move, I could not speak. It wasn't a flight, fight or freeze, I had been drugged and could not move a single part of my body. I couldn't even move my arms to push him away. And when my roommates MOTHER walked into our new home, into the dark room, in the middle of the night, she saw what was happening. All I could do was open my eyes wide with fear, but she turned around and walked out without a word and left him to finish what he started. He laughed when she walked away. By the time I had any control of my body, he was gone, I was alone and naked on the living room floor of my first place, where every person stepped over me as they filed out in the morning. It was the morning joke...what and who did she do. No one asked if I was ok that morning. No one ever did. It has been 21 years and I still don't know the name of the man who raped me that night, but I will always remember his face.

When that person tried to kill me, no human tried to save me. Only my cat, then 1-year-old, warmed my body which was going to be cold, losing 1 liter of blood. My mother told me "you choose who you marry" and went on to complain about my father, who was also abusive. I told her "You choose him". (I didn't victimize anyone except my cat, unlike my mother) Why I as a woman and women in East Asia are taken so lightly?

I come here today with the utmost need of to tell my truth no longer be silenced and the need to be able to break these chains rather invisible or not they're there I have suffered for 20 plus years from abuse from an individual who suffers from narcissistic personality I'm pretty sure the subtype is passive aggressive covert malignant narcissism . He has shown documented behaviors of being a sociopath. This individual also suffers from substance abuse and sex addiction. My needs for housing transportation and financial support is a means of causing intentional harm by exploitation of my imminent needs for human basic survival and he knows that my disabilities cause me to not be able to get proper help because of my social and communication disorders and brain injury. Being a victim who also has disabilities of all kinds creates a much bigger barrier because I can't do communal living spaces. There is no way to get free every phone call to national special victims I get a recorded message and no one calls back..I'm posting a link for my fundraiser because I've gotten no help and if help doesn't come soon I will just be a statistic but helping me get free is way bigger than me it gives a ability to bring about systematic change to help others not have to suffer in silence anymore Please help me Link

I don't remember the exact age I was when it happened. I(female at the time) was no older than 9 which would have made my sister(F) at the very least, 13 as she is 4 years older than me. She found out that I had been watching videos of girls kissing on youtube (back before there were harsher guidelines in place) and told me that she wanted to do that with me. I didn't really want to, i wasn't interested but didn't really even consider the entire 'we're sisters" part to be an issue. She told me if i didn't, she would tell our mom. My mom was a scary person, i never wanted her mad at me and she knew that when she threatened me with it. So for that entire Summer vacation, whenever we spent the weekends at our dads house, she would make me sit on her lap and make out with her. I told her multiple times i didn't like it, i wasn't having fun, i wanted to stop. She told me it was good practice for when we had boyfriends, which i also didn't really care about. She would tell me I wasn't putting enough energy into it and scold me, if I didn't use tongue she would get mad at me, she would give me the silent treatment the next day if I didn't do 'a good job' and she was only really nice to me if i *did* 'do a good job'. Her being nice to me was almost entirely foreign, especially when we were young. I am now 24 and i cut her out of my life several years ago when I fully registered the impact that her actions had on me and what they meant. I never felt comfortable alone with her again, i was constantly attacked with mental images of what happened and would feel sick to my stomach when i spoke to her. Neither of us ever spoke about it again and i didn't tell her why i blocked her after she left state. My mother asked relentlessly and i only ever told her "i'm sure she knows why." I sometimes feel guilty for what happened, i sometimes think that it never would've happened if i never looked up videos of girls kissing. I blame myself still even tho i'm sure my sister never thinks it's her fault- she has never been the type of person to take accountability for anything in her entire life. We were both minors but she was old enough to understand it was inappropriate, and i was young enough to believe anything my older sister told me. I've never told anyone the details of what happened until now. I'm too ashamed and too scared. Thank you to anyone who reads this and i hope anyone who experienced something similar is healing along with me.

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.

Shortly after I turned 18 we went on our senior trip to Amsterdam. I wasn't really someone that enjoyed going out at night so I hung out at the hotel with some friends. I was a virgin at the time and the whole concept of sex scared the shit out of me, because I was really unhappy with my body and have never been comfortable with getting naked in front of someone else. On our last night, we met some other travellers, that had just met each other as well. One of them was a 26 year old Australian. I was super drunk and it was already really late and we ended up outside in front of the hotel, kissing. He opened my pants and put his fingers inside me. The first time someone ever touched me there. I went to bed shortly after, but my friends and I had invited him earlier to just come to Germany to visit us and on the next morning, when we got on the bus to drive home, he got on a train and followed us. I later picked him up from the train station close to my home twon and we went to my place with some friends that had nor been on the trip with me. We started drinking and talking in my room and eventually decided to go to a bar in the town nearby. After some more drinks I was super drunk and my best friend dropped me and the Australian off at my house. I was super horny and confident because I was so drunk and from the moment he undressed us, I don't remember a thing. Only little bit and pieces of him choking me and having his dick in my hand.

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

I am 82 years old and still remember most of what happened to me when I was around 7-8 years old. A neighbor, two houses away from me was the first neighbor in my neighborhood to have a television. He would invite us kids in the neighborhood to come in to watch it. There would be maybe 3 to 4. I can't remember exactly. One was my next-door neighbor, and another was from across the street. They were girls that were friends of mine. He would put on cartoons, and we would laugh so hard. Then kids would leave by his invitation. He would let me watch tv a while longer and sit beside me on the couch. I remember him touching me and I didn't know what to say or do. This happened with me a few times and I was afraid to say anything to anyone. I knew it wasn't right, but I didn't know what to do. I remember going home one day with blood in my underwire. I remember him saying if that felt good, next time he would make me feel better. I went back, I watched tv and the next thing I knew he took me into a back bedroom. He took off my clothes and touched me. The next thing I knew I was in pain. I don't know if I had passed out or what happened but the next thing I knew he was telling me to get my clothes on and don't tell anyone about this. I did and went home. I don't remember any more other than my mother telling me not to go over there anymore. Then she told me he was a bad man and went to jail, I never told her what happened. I still to this day do not know if it was because of me or someone else. I have tried to find out if there was a newspaper article or someone in the neighborhood was molested the same as me. This affected my life all these years. I got out of gym in high school because I couldn't be around naked girls in the showers, my marriages have made me self-conscious being naked. Not to mention the memory. When I think of what he did to me, a little girl in the neighborhood, I feel sick. I was so afraid, but I was scared not to go there. I remember his name. He had a wife. This would happen when she walked about three blocks to catch a bus to town. He had plenty of time to do his horrible things to me and I don't know who else. I have thought of having hypnosis to see what happened that day in the bedroom but on the other hand I might not want to. I only wish I knew what happened to him. I would love to know how he went to jail. That's what My mother told me. I have tried to find out in the Publication archives but with no luck. I tried talking to the City Police, but they told me I could pay to find out, rather rudely. His name was Perpetrator Name. I lived a Address and he lived two houses away from me. His wife's name was Wife Name. They had no children. At least that I know of. They may have had older children, but I don't remember any one over there. This would have happened around 1950-1951. Maybe 1952. I wasn't very old. I want to stress how this has followed me and bothered me my whole life. I still to this day am uncomfortable around anyone without my clothes on. I'll never forget his molestation on me. I'm sure I know why I bled that day. Other than my husband. I have never told anyone about this. I was scared back then and it's just not something you want to talk about. Thank you for listening, I hope somehow this can help someone. Name. Phone Number

I was 5 and my older cousin was 9. She was the favorite grandkid so when she began showing me “the game” I was too scared to be judged by my own family that I decided to take the pain. When people found out about it the case it was closed because she was a minor. It ended when I was 10 and she was 14, I deserve justice for my childhood being taken from me. The case has been looked down upon due to her being a minor and the fact that it was two girls but it caused major damage. I might not even be able to reproduce.. I am now in the process of learning about myself and what all i can do to be able to maybe have kids one day. I made it out though, little me would be so proud.

Firstly I want to thank ourwave for creating this safe space and thank anyone who takes their time to read my story, when my mum was a teen she fell pregnant with me, once I was born we didn’t have a stable home we lived between houses the main house was my nanas, where my uncle lived too. I was 5 he was 15 and When no one was in my uncle would take it upon himself to rape me I don’t remember everything as I was so young and somethings slowly come back especially since my police report but I vividly remember him taking out his penis and putting it my face telling me to suck it..the other memory I have it him sitting me on my nanas bed and him attempting to rape me..he used pliers to try make it easier and also asked me to try help too which I did.. these memories stuck so well in my head and I can never shake them..I also remember my mum bathing me and she has since stated she saw very sore red skin around my lady area and asked “who’s been touching you” to which I replied “name” …now I may not remember everything I may not have been pinned down but that day a piece of me died and I haven’t been the same since, I went my whole life my mum telling me it never happened all my family went against us told everyone i was lying and he was protected whilst I questioned should I even be alive right now at the small age of 9 years old..because I did question my mum on the night terrors and I asked why I got moved so far away and why I have memories of it and I went all this time thinking I had made it up I told myself I was a freak an attention seeker but all along I was right I was a survivor and now I’m 21 years old I’ve just recently reported my uncle to the police and I have my own baby to protect..I don’t get why everyone or how anyone can hurt a child the way so many are hurt

I was first raped when I was 14 years old, by a classmate. I didn’t know it was rape for almost 10 years. I was raped again when I was 20 years old, by a friend in my dorm on campus. I’m now 28 years old and work as an educator, counselor and advocate for interpersonal violence prevention. I have been searching for a place to share my story without having to share my identity (thank you endlessly EROC/It’s On Us for this space). I have so much to share but even more so I hope whoever is reading this knows they’re not alone.