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

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 is another incident from my survivor story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER. I am working up to the police incident. Please read my story for context. This one brought back pain in writing it. Sophomore year of my philosophy major in college. I had recently gone on a trip to Portugal with nice older man who basically invited me to Portugal with the understanding that I would be his lover for a free trip. He had been one of my customers at the restaurant and I took him up on his proposition for the fun of it and had a great time. That was my spring break. This was a few year period when I was very promiscuous after being abused by my brother for years at home and repressed in a Catholic high school as parental punishment for starting a sexual relationship with a boy my age. When a girl in my logic course who was pre-law invited me to a fraternity party I thought it would be nice to hang with people my own age. Fraternities and sororities were not my cup of tea and still are not. After doing a keg stand to impress strangers I was looking for the upstairs bathroom because the line for the downstairs one was long. That one had a few girls waiting and a guy who had held one of my legs for the keg stand started flirting with me and offered to take me to a secret bathroom. The bathroom was legit but then he beckoned me into a bedroom across from it where two other frat brothers were. I was apprehensive but with the other guys there I was a little more at ease that he wasn’t just trying to take me to bed. I was open to finding a hot guy, to be honest, but he was NOT it. Neither were the other two. I sat chatting with them and drinking tiny shots of cinnamon whiskey and getting more nervous when somebody tried to get in the door to the room but it was locked. My guy yelled at them to go away. Then I tried to get up and leave but was pulled back to my seat the bed. I am small so I am easily overpowered. “You can’t leave yet. We’re just getting to know you.” One rapist said. “No teases allowed here.” “What do I have to do to get back out to my friend?” I asked something like that but used her name. They looked at each other with nasty smirks and I regretted the question. What one of them came up was a blowjob contest in which I have twenty seconds to make each of them cum but I had to go in circle until one did and then he was eliminated and I had to do all three. So they stood on three sides of the bed with me in the middle and took out their penises. One had a stop watch and without hesitation I started sucking the one nearest me. I wanted to get out of there and was physically afraid of them. This was away to avoid any violence and not even give them the satisfaction of thinking they forced me to do anything. So I went round and round getting very tired. 20 seconds was too short and they had pulled off all my clothes. I stopped and asked the one who made up the game for 60 seconds. Suddenly I was pulled violently back by my legs from the one behind me he held my legs apart as he quickly started banging me. I did not even see his face until later. The one who I had been talking to got up on the bed and started doing it to my mouth. I don’t me he put it in my mouth. He grabbed my head with both hands and forced it in and was banging my face as hard as the guy behind me was doing it. I had to stay up on my elbows arched to prevent him from ripping my hair up to keep me at his level. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. It had always been one partner at a time. They were mean and I tried so hard to keep up. After that craziness was over and both of them satisfied themselves in me, the original guy pulled me up onto the bed and said something like, “Only one hole left for me.” I was not used to anal sex then. I offered to go wash up if he would please not do anal with me. He laughed and shook his head. So, laying on my back with my legs spread, he squirted some aloe vera gel from the bedside table down there and watched me face to face as he worked his penis in one thrust at a time. He saw the pain on my face that I could not hide. I had to kiss him while her hurt me. Even when he got going fast it took him a while. One of them was watching us, smiling from the side and the other was playing with his phone and I think taking pictures. Phones did not do videos yet. The smiling one once asked, “Dude, is it really in her ass?” After he was finished with me he thanked me and left. Said he had responsibilities. The one with the phone left too. I tried to leave. “Not so fast.” The other one said pushing me back down. I told him I had done everything they wanted and more and asked to please leave. He told me I was the hottest chick he had ever F-’d and he wanted round 2. I just wanted to get out of there. One more obstacle. I worked my mouth on him for a while to get him even half rubbery again and worked it inside. That failed and I had to do it again. Finally I used every trick I could including faking orgasms, having a real orgasm, and talking dirty to him to get him to release inside me. I was so shaky and exhausted after being their whore for so long it was hard to get my clothes on. I was in fear he would stop me, and he did. I told him I just wanted to got pee and clean up and asked him if I could sleep in his bed with him—just a trick. I worked. I thanked him, nonchalantly closed the door behind me and hurried down the stairs without drawing too much attention. I kept a smile on my face as I made it out the front door and off the porch. I kept of the act for a block before I just started running as far away as I could. I was actually terrified someone might be after me until I was out of the neighborhood far from campus and to a gas station. I called a taxi and went home. My roomate was sleeping in her room and I just sat in the shower. In my story I used this as an example of how I avoided being raped by just going with it when I was in a rape situation. But this felt like rape. I went back to partying and using alcohol and marijuana to dampen the impact and feel artificially warm and fuzzy. And casual sex with hot men. But this was rape. I was gang raped. Maybe better for me than if I had tried to fight them and lost but it still sucks and leaves me with hurt and guilt and fear.

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

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

HEY, THIS IS ALL WRITTEN IN CAPS SINCE MY COMPUTER IS BROKEN... AUH...BIG TW, BY THE WAY.. HERES AN EMAIL I SENT MY RAPIST; ILL NEVER CONTACT YOU AGAIN, I HOPE MY INTERESTS, MY NAME, MY STYLE, MY LAUGH, MY VOICE, AND MY EYES HAUNT YOU FOREVER. I HOPE YOU KNOW YOUVE RUINED ME. I STILL FEEL EVERYTHING YOUVE DONE TO ME, I SCRUB AT MY SKIN UNTIL ITS RAW, I SCREAM AND I CRY BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID TO ME. I TRUSTED YOU, AND YET YOU MANIPULATED AND LIED TO ME. YOU PUSHED ME THIS FAR. I WANTED TO BE YOUR FRIEND, I TRIED TO IMPRESS YOU BUT THE HARDER I TRIED THE MORE I DROVE YOU TO HURT ME. YOU DID THIS TO ME, ____. YOU CAN KEEP LYING TO YOURSELF, AND YOU CAN KEEP TELLING YOUR VERSION TO ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN. BUT YOU WILL NEVER CHANGE THE TRUTH THAT LIVES IN MY BODY. EVERY TIME YOU SAY IT DIDNT HAPPEN, YOU ARE JUST TRYING TO SILENCE ME. YOU TRIED TO BREAK ME SO YOU COULD FUCKING OWN ME, EVEN IF I 'CONSENTED' YOU KNOW DAMN FUCKING WELL YOU MANIPULATED ME, YOU EVEN TRIED MANIPULATING ME INTO BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP TOO. YOUVE MADE ME REALIZE I DESERVE WAY BETTER THAN YOU. YOU ARE OBESSED WITH TRYING TO FIND THIS VERSION OF ME WHO WILL FORGIVE YOU, WHO WILL BE YOUR FRIEND AGAIN. YOU WANT ME AS A FRIEND AGAIN BECAUSE I TREATED YOU WELL AND YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THAT SHIT. FUCK YOU. DONT LOOK FOR ME ONLINE, DONT LOOK FOR ME IN CROWDS, DONT TRY TO HUNT ME DOWN, DONT TRY TO 'GET YOUR REVENGE', DONT TRY TO GET ME TO TAKE IT BACK, DONT TRY TO RUIN MY LIFE. I SPENT SO LONG WONDERING WHY YOU DID IT, BUT I REALIZE NOW IT DOESNT MATTER. YOU ARE A HOLLOW FUCKING PERSON, YOU ARE PATHETIC COMPARED TO ME, ____. YOU REFUSE TO REALIZE THAT, YOU THINK *I* TRIED TO COMPETE WITH YOU? LOOK AT YOURSELF, IDIOT. YOU HARASS ME BECAUSE YOURE TERRIFIED OF THE SILENCE WHERE THE TRUTH LIVES? EVERY TIME YOU DENY WHAT HAPPENED, YOURE TALKING TO SOME FUCKING BRICK WALL. I OFFERED YOU A FRIEND AND YOU SAW A TARGET. YOURE MANIPULATIVE AND A FUCKING NARC! YOU TOOK MY KINDNESS AND TURNED IT INTO MY OWN FUCKING PRISON, BUT YOU FAIL TO REALIZE IVE GROWN OUT OF YOUR LIES? YOU NEVER LOVED ME, YOU NEVER WANTED ME AROUND. YOU JUST WANTED A FUCKING PLAYTHING. YOU ARE TERRIFIED OF LETTING ME GO, BECAUSE THE SILENCE IS WHERE THE TRUTH LIVES. YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I KNOW YOU DO, YOU JUST REFUSE TO BELIEVE IT BECAUSE YOU, YOURE A VICTIM YOURSELF! YOU THINK MY FORGIVENESS OR MY "TRUTH" IS A DEBT I OWE YOU? BUT EVERY MEMORY OF US IS NOW RUINED BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU DID, I CANT THINK OF YOU IN A GOOD WAY WITHOUT THINKING "OH, RIGHT, SHE FUCKING RAPED ME!" YOU DIDNT JUST TAKE MY BODY, YOU TRIED TO TAKE THE TRUTH AWAY TOO? AND, FUCK, IF I HAD REACTED DIFFERENTLY. IF I HADNT GONE TO THE HOSPITAL, OR GOTTEN THERAPY, I WOULDNT HAVE KNOWN. I HAD TO BE TOLD YOU DID IT TO ME. I HAD TO BE TOLD BY SOMEONE YOU RAPED ME BECAUSE I REFUSED TO BELIEVE SO, BECAUSE I THOUGHT SINCE I CONSENTED, IT WAS OKAY. BUT MY CONSENT UPPED AND FUCKING LEFT THE ROOM. FOUR TIMES, DID YOU HAVE TO BE TOLD NO, THREE TIMES DID YOU HAVE TO BE TOLD STOP. THATS NOT RIGHT. YOU COULDNT HAVE NOT HEARD THAT, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOUR FUCKING HAND WAS KNITTED INTO MY HAIR AND YOUR FACE WAS NEXT TO MINE, RESTING ON MY FUCKING SHOULDER. YOU WERE FINGERING ME, AND I FEEL GROSS FOR IT. IM DONE TRYING TO FIND A REASON FOR YOUR CRUELTY! THERE IS NO 'WHY' THAT MAKES THIS OKAY? YOU HURT ME BECAUSE YOU COULD, YOURE HAUNTING ME NOW BECAUSE YOURE TERRIFIED WITHOUT SOMEONE TO HURT. YOU KEEP LOOKING FOR '(DEADNAME)' WHO WANTED TO IMPRESS YOU. THAT GIRL DIED IN YOUR ARMS THE NIGHT YOU DECIDED TO CHOSE YOURSELF OVER MY FUCKING HUMANITY. DONT GO LOOKING FOR HER. YOU WONT RECOGNIZE WHO THAT IS, YOU CERTAINLY DONT DESERVE TO KNOW THEM. YOU TALK SO MUCH BECAUSE YOURE SCARED OF WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STOP? YOURE SCARED OF THE QUIET, THATS WHY YOU LIKED ME. I FILLED THAT SILENCE. YOULL FINALLY HAVE TO SEE THE MONSTER YOUVE BECOME. GO AHEAD, TELL EVERYONE IM THE VILLIAN. TELL THEM IM CRAZY! THAT IM AN ATTENTION WHORE. THAT I ASKED FOR IT. IT DOESNT CHANGE THE FACT THAT WHEN YOURE ALONE, LAYING IN BED IN THE DARKNESS, YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE. THATS YOUR WEIGHT YOU HAVE TO CARRY, IVE GOT MY OWN SHIT TO CARRY. I HATE YOU. ILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.

When I was 7, I started being sexually abused. This wasn’t by a family member, it was my grans second husband. It all stopped when I was 12, when we moved a few miles away and he didn’t visit as much. When I was 17, I was having therapy for other things, it eventually came out then. They helped me decide how I was going to tell my mum. They also said I should prepare for family members to not believe me. I thought, you don’t know my family. They all stick up for each other. Well so I thought. My mum never wanted to talk about it. I understand now that was due to guilt, she had her own mental illnesses to deal with. My sister, well she turned against me for a few years. Saying I was lying, I tried to ruin my grans marriage with my lies, threatening to beat me up. My sister even tried to prove I was lying buy having him watch her new born baby whilst she went and done his food shop. When this man died, it got worse. My sister and aunt said they can’t grieve over him cause of the lies I said about him. Saying I’m evil and not wanting me near her child incase I do stuff to her. I had cousins asking “what exactly is it he did to you? My gran saying “he’s not a pedophile”. All this almost destroyed me. It was worse than the sexual abuse I had went through as a child. I decided I wanted away from my family. So I enrolled in college at 23, at 27 I was qualified and got straight into a job, I had been saving through college, so managed to move onto my own place pretty quickly. Now 33 years old and looking back I often think, did all that really happen. I’ve since moved further away from my family, Doing this has helped me stay away from their drama and only visit on occasions. They’re a lot better now, but I’d still rather keep my distance. I’m in a good place mentally. I’ve got great friends and built a good life for myself. My advice to anyone going thought it. Prepare yourself for family not to believe you. Only talk about it to people you trust and only when you want to talk about it. Don’t feel you need to explain yourself to anyone. The best thing my therapist said, no matter what you did or didn’t do, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a child.

Hi, thanks for letting me share my story. To understand it, I have to start from the very beginning: My parents got divorced when I was 7 years old, and my mother took care of me and my two siblings. My mum remarried within a few months of the divorce and my dad remarried after 4 years. But, I was never told what happened. It was never discussed. And I was afraid to discuss it with my Mum in case I would upset her or make her angry at me. But finally, when I was 11 years old, I finally asked her about the divorce. At first, she consoled me saying that she was sorry if the divorce ever hurt me or my feelings. But, as I continued to talk about it, she got angry and told me to stop "self-pitying". My Dad is a businessman, so even at childhood (back when my parents were married), he was always away for months at a time for meetings. But, I still loved him (obviously). Now, as for my stepdad, me and him were never close. But I still called him "Dad" - even though I didn't want to, that was just for my Mum's sake. He always used to say I was his "favourite" but I never understood why. When I was in 7th Grade, my Dad moved to a different country. When I was in 8th Grade (13 years old, nearly 14), me and my stepdad started getting closer. Eventually, he would start doing inappropriate things. He would touch my breasts and once, he put his hand inside of my trousers and rubbing between my legs. Before this incident, I thought that everything he was doing was "normal", as I never had a father figure to look up to. A few days later, I got the courage to tell my Mum. I went to her and told her and she looked so panicked and asked me if I was sure that this happened. She told me it was probably an accident, and maybe as he was giving me my goodnight hug, his hand accidentally went there. I realised at that moment, if I were to say something, my life would be ruined. So, I accepted that nothing happened and stayed silent. In the next 3 years, I pretended everything was normal. I pushed the sexual abuse to the back of my mind and pretended as if it never happened. Now, from my cultural background, it was weird and shameful for women to get remarried after a divorce, so my Mum never told anyone (other than immediate family) that she got remarried - even my Dad didn't know. My Dad also didn't tell my Mum or even us that he got remarried. He used to spend time with us every Sunday in parks before he moved away. The day I found out was when suddenly he brings this 1 year old boy and tells me he's my brother and introduces me to his wife. I was so shocked and so hurt, that I ran away back to my mother's house. My mother consoled me and said that I'm lucky to have another sibling. Now, when I was in 11th grade, we went back to our home country for my uncle's wedding. Before we went, my Mum said "we are planning to tell everyone about our wedding. Are you OK with that?" I pushed my feelings aside, and said it was OK. I just thought she would announce it. But, one night, we were all sitting down and she tells her friends about her plans for her wedding tomorrow. I had no idea she was getting married! I ran to the other room in tears. My Mum later came to the room and asked me why I was making such a big drama over nothing. I told her that I never knew about it, and she replied she didn't have to tell me anything. Eventually, I left it alone and the next day, I acted as if everything was fine. I took photos, I wore a nice dress, I chatted with my stepdad's family - did everything the "perfect daughter" would do. When my Dad found out my Mum was remarried, he broke off all contact with me. When we came back to the country we live in, it was my Mum's turn to host a party (we have this friend circle and every month we have a party at someone's house). Suddenly, they all came in with wedding decor and started surprising her. I was not aware this was happening so I just went into panic mode. I didn't say anything that whole night and tried to hold back my tears. After they left, my Mum and I had a discussion about the divorce again. She told me "Me and your father are separated, ACCEPT IT". I said "I do accept it, but all I'm saying is I wish you told me". And she replied "I didn't know they would do this much of a party, but don't you think it hurt me to see my eldest daughter not happy to see me married?" This is when I broke down and finally told her about the sexual abuse again. This time, my Mum got furious and asked me why I lied the first time. She also slapped me. She said since I lied the first time, I could be lying right now. Once again, I took back my statement thinking that I'd tell her after I had enough money to live by myself (because I was financially dependent on my Dad and Stepdad, as my Mum didn't work). But, later on that year, in the summer of 11th Grade, we went back to our home country and my baby cousin was born. As soon as I saw her, saw how innocent she was, I knew that I'd protect her at all costs. Then, my uncle was giving her to my stepdad to hold and I couldn't believe it. I also properly realised that my little sister, who was 11 at the time, was only 2 years away from when I was abused. I knew I had to tell, for their sake if not for mine. At that time, the two people I loved and I trusted more than anyone were my Mum and my aunt. I decided I would tell both of them. But, neither believed me. My Mum kept asking me questions saying that if I was telling the truth, then why didn't I say it earlier and she kept mocking me. My aunt said she didn't know who to believe, but she said my Mum already went through a difficult divorce so she can't go through that again. I pleaded to my Mum to divorce him but she said that wasn't even an option because she loved him. She then told me she got sexually abused herself by her tutor when she was 17. She said she knew the signs of sexual abuse and that I didn't have any of them. She also said that my Dad sexually abused her a few weeks before their wedding. Since my Grandfather died, my Mum had no one to rely on. She said that the reason she divorced my Dad was because he also used to physically abuse her. I was shocked to hear this and I started crying more. In the end, we all came back to the country we live in. I still lived with my stepdad and my mum, but me and my stepdad would ignore each other. He still spent his money on us like normal. My Dad stopped giving child support that year. Now, at the time of writing this (20th May 2023), I was looking for something on my Mum's phone (a document I wanted to send my friend) and I came across these messages of her and my stepdad telling my aunt that she was pregnant. In those messages, my Mum said she already told my Grandma and everyone is excited. I couldn't believe it, I started getting a panic attack. I confronted my Mum and asked if it was true. She said it was and asked what was my problem with it. I said "I don't want this baby". She said it was not my decision to make and that I shouldn't dictate her life. I asked that why did she have to get pregnant this year, why the year where everything in my life was going downhill. She told me to shut up and concentrate on my final exams. I told her that I can never tell her anything. She started mocking me and asking me what I couldn't tell her. I told her "this year has been so hard that sometimes I wish I could end it!" She started mocking me once again and said "Oh by living with your amazing father, is that it?" (My Mum still thinks I care about my Dad, but I couldn't care less about him). I said "no, ending my life" (at one point in the year, I thought it would be easier if I was just gone, then all the suffering would end, then I realised suicide is not the answer). She got up and stated hitting and slapping me. Then she started hyperventilating and screaming. She started screaming "Get out! Get out! I am NOT your mother! I don't want you! I don't love you!" repeatedly. I tried to go back and console her and she told me to just get lost and go to the other room. She told me that as soon as my exams were over, she wants to send me back to our home country to live with my Dad. I begged her to not do that and she told me that no amount of begging would make her change her mind. She said all love for me was finished in her heart. Later on that day, I tried talking to her again and she kept ignoring me. Then, she started crying and said "you said you hate living with me so much that you want to kill yourself, maybe if I send you to your Father, you'll get some sense". She didn't understand that it was my stepdad causing that, that it was her reluctance to believe me that was causing me to have these thoughts. She said "before I had a suspicion he did this, but now I know you are lying, you are just jealous!" I told her everything was true but she told me that she knows me better than anyone and that I was lying. In her words "In my 42 years, I have understood EVERYTHING but I have never managed to understand YOU. Why are you like this? Why must you make me miserable?" This happened yesterday, and now I keep getting panic attacks. The only people talking to me are my siblings. I feel so alone. My Mum refuses to acknowledge me. What I know for definite is that it was not my fault. It is never the victim's fault, we never asked to be abused. We are constantly told we are weak but my God, we are so so so strong. So proud of all of us for enduring this disgusting reality.

My name is Name. I grew up with a mother, two sisters, and a stepfather that stepped up to be my Dad when my biological father passed at 7 years old. My step father became someone I looked up to in a time where I didn’t know how to navigate grief. He was my Dad and I was proud to call him that. When I was 10 years old, the one I called my Dad molested me in our backyard. I was told that if I were to tell anyone we would be homeless and I would break the family apart if I were to say a word. That was the day I grew silent. I didn’t quite know the extremity of the situation until I was 11 years old. I discovered what he had done to me through a movie that I was watching unsupervised. I remember the exact moment I figured it out. Holding back my tears, I rushed to the shower and began to wash my body. I thought that if I washed hard enough somehow I could be wiped clean from impurity. I took the blame for what happened and dared not to say anything because if I did, all I could picture was my mom and sisters on the streets since he was the only one bringing in the money to live on. From 11-13 years old it was only mere comments and mandatory kissing of the lips, but that was my normal. I didn’t know it wasn’t normal in other households until a friend of mine noticed. I began to grow suspicion of how much I might be in danger from something happening again as I grew older. When I was 14, he found a video of me and my friends on my phone one night. He used it against me and said that what we did on our video would send me to jail for a long time, and if I didn’t do what he says, he would email it to the police. He began to groom me and the kisses began to turn into 10 kisses in a row. He would come in my bedroom, my bathroom, the dressing rooms, my bed, and when he was driving he would hold my hand or put his hand on my thigh. When I would try to stand up for myself, he would threaten to take the doors off my bathroom and bedroom. The moment I knew I was in deeper danger, was the night that he suggested intercourse and sexual activity in order to have a car or go to college. I ran inside to tell my mom, but she didn’t believe me. I knew that something had to change, but I felt stuck. I didn’t know what to do. When I was 15 years old, I went to a church camp with the youth group of my Grandma’s church. One day the group I was in had a prayers circle. It was an opportunity for campers to say what is on my heart. When it was my turn, I told them everything. On the last day of camp, the head of the camp who flew out to meet me, told me that I am safe and they called Children’s Protection Services. My heart sank, but I knew somehow everything was going to be okay. The rest of my summer consisted of meetings and preparation for trial. The trial came several months later, but I was not believed. My whole life, I tried to protect my sisters from the same thing, but when I wasn’t believed, I began to feel as if I was failing to protect them. Not only that but my first sister who was 10 years old at the time wanted nothing to do with me, and although I was angry of being pushed out by my mother and sister, I had my grandparents and had my baby sister, who was 5 at the time, to adore me and see me as I was with full belief. 7 years later at 22 years old, the one I once called Dad got sentenced to life in prison. How? The same thing happened to my younger sister just 5 years a part from me. There was enough proof, and it was the day where the jury, the judge and half a filled room believed me., but this time, both my sisters shut me out. Within a 12 years period of my life I felt alone, unseen, and unheard. Since I came out with my story when I was 15, I felt even more alone, unseen, and unheard. The rest of the family didn’t know anything about what happened to me because my family lives in secret. Secrets, Suffering, Silence. The 3 S’s my life consisted of. Finally at 22 I could breathe. 12 years of weight was lifted off my shoulders and even though my baby sister’s attitude change towards me, she was safe, and that was all that mattered to me. When I was 23 years old, my younger sister, who was also molested as I was, the one I tried to protect since I was 11, died from fentanyl. It was then when I vowed to never be silent again. At 25 years old, I left everything I knew to somehow embark a journey where I travel the world to speak message of liberation, change, and awareness. My hope is that the little girls and boys like us, the survivors, can hear the story of a girl as they are somewhere around the world terrified to leave their bedroom, with the hope they march out that bedroom and say “No, I will not stand up for this any longer. I refuse to remain silent.” My love goes to every once hurt child, teenager, or adult. You are not alone. Thank you for reading. More about my story is found on my Link

I was 5. He was 15-16. He was my cousin. In the summer i went to his familys house in another state, we were playing outside when he said he wanted to show me something, he took me into his moms closet and took me to take my pants and underwear off so he could see. My parents hadnt given me any talk about private parts as it was “taboo.” So i did and he took his pants down, he got closer and started to touch me. His mom came in because it had been a bit and saw him. She told me to pull my pants up and then they continued on with their day. I didnt know what he did was bad till about a year ago. So uh thanks for listening:)

I was in my late teens , growing up as the Queer girl in school, subjected to years of bullying and sitting my leaving cert when I decided one day not entirely sure why that it was time for me to learn how to drive , with this new goal in mind I went to speak to my dad about potentially starting lessons and getting a car when he told me I should get a part time job to build a good work ethic and pay for this myself , I thought this was fair and began searching, the stars all seemed to align when a local restaurant was hiring for part time weekend staff, I applied and was hired, I remember on my first day meeting 2 men who worked there a man in his early 30s I'll call James and one in his late teens a year or so older than me we can call bob , I was quiet and kept my head down for the first few weeks but eventually began to open up and become more comfortable with the other staff particularly Bob since we where a similar age and had some matching interests, Bob looked much older than he actually was since he had a scraggly beard , we exchanged social media and began chatting fairly regularly about work but soon about almost everything we talked alot over this period , I had 2 friends in the same school as Bob who where concerned about this due to Bob having a less than favoured reputation It was a few weeks later when Bob asked about pursuing a relationship, at first I was hesitant due to the fact we where coworkers but decided to give him a chance , I remember I would always feel a sense of dread before meeting with Bob despite not being entirely sure why I had 2 pet ferrets at the time who are usually incredibly friendly absolutely hate the guy , we had a few heated arguments surrounding boundaries and consent and it became relatively clear to me that he lacked understanding on what consent actually was but being a dumb teenager I thought that was something minor that could be worked on It was the summer when we went out drinking and went back to watch a movie and stay over , I remember watching a TV show and feeling quite unwell, I wasn't used to consuming alcohol and had a very low tolerance, I went to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet, when I returned I did not feel good at all I don't remember much for a while past this point but I remember feeling a strong pain in my lower abdomen I opened my eyes and as they adjusted to the light I realised I was naked from the waist down and Bob was on top of me , being under the influence of alot of alcohol I didn't fully grasp the situation and just tried to pull away I got to the top of the bed and held onto the bed frame I was mainly confused and in pain when I was dragged by my legs back down the bed , finally started to grasp the gravity of the situation I managed to whine "stop" no response , I don't remember much after this point but I do remember limping to the bathroom and immediately throwing up in the worst pain I have ever felt , this is the part that's clearest in my mind , not the act the aftermath of it , grabbing a shower head and spraying ice Cold water all over my thighs to wash off blood in tears but not making a sound beyond , it felt like an out of body experience I remember staggering back out of the bathroom in pure survival mode , This was over a year ago now and it it still affects my daily life , I have alot of self doubt and regret , I know deep down that its not my fault but for some reason it's incredibly hard to believe that whole heartedly , I feel like it carries a stigma when I meet people it's Easy to gauge whether they know or not based of their reaction to me and although I've had alot of support from my friends it still feels as if it'd be better if nobody knew , not a day goes by where I don't think about it , there are ups and downs If there was one thing I could change with the current education system it would be to please make consent a mandatory part of the sphe module and not just a brief touched on subject a genuine important part that's explored on depth by trained staff , I feel like it could save so many people so much heartache and trauma

I was five years old when it happened. My abuser was also a five year old girl. I remember thinking that my story isn't valid because she's exactly the same as me. Over time, I did research and started to realize and recollect more and more about the memories of my abuse. If you get triggered or have triggers related to sexual assault/abuse, I advise not reading this next part. At first, I forgot the entire event ever happened. I remember being about 11 when I realized what had happened. The memories started gradually coming back. She was my friend. We were normal five year olds, I'd always have playdates at her house. At every playdate, she'd take me to her playroom. She'd lock the door and draw the blinds. Then, she'd make me lie down on this small mattress on the floor. She called it a game. She said that she was the doctor and that I was the patient. Once I'm on the mattress, she'd get on top of me. She'd touch me under my clothes. She'd look under my clothes. She'd take off my clothes. I remember just hoping, wishing, and praying that it would soon be over. If you're wondering, I was wearing a school uniform most of the time whenever this happened. This went on for almost the entire year when I was five. When I remembered and realized what had happened to me, I didn't believe it. I thought I was overreacting. I thought I was making it up. How could someone the same age and gender as me sexually abuse me? I'd only seen cases of young girls getting abused by older men. So how could a young girl be assaulted by another young girl? A few years have passed since I first remembered the events. I've gotten wiser, and discovered that there are many forms of assault. When I first found out what COCSA was, I felt so accepted. It was so validating, knowing that these memories that have destroyed me for years and years... they're real, and they're valid.

I dated him for less than a few months back in 2020. After the breakup he began hacking my home wifi and all devices on it. I spent years changing passwords and devices which cost me thousands of dollars. Regardless of how many times I replaced them he hacked the new ones within hours. This continued for nearly a decade. FBI, SBI, and local police did not investigate him and likely never will. When an immediate family member died, he destroyed my laptop with the damage he did to it from all the spyware, effectively isolating me at a time I needed support. He preferred I only think of him rather than grieve a lost family member. When I attempted to go back to university at my dream school he hacked the access point there and all my devices on it. His spyware survived multiple factory resets and he damaged my laptop which caused me to nearly fail out of university. When I got a decent job after graduating he hacked all my devices when I moved again. He would crash the network multiple times a day every day while I worked and sign into my work email changing the background multiple times a day. Each time I reported him even on my phone not on wifi he would crash the network for hours preventing me from being able to work out of retaliation. When I would buy new devices, they would mirror his browsing as if I was browsing as him and vice versa. He put high level spyware on my computer and phone tracking my photos, texts, and activities in real time. He would also play music like the song “Sucker for Pain” which discusses taking pleasure in torturing someone while hacking my devices. To this day he refers to me in derogatory terms such as a narcissist, immature, delusional, etc and people believe him not knowing the side of him I know. He lied to people telling them he broke up with me because I was “too immature” for him. He often spoke of other women he dated previously in similar terms to me, but I never realized it was just a pattern that I would be another continuation of. I regret not seeing the warning signs earlier. To date he is in his 40s and still takes his anger at his mom who abandoned him out on me, because apparently that is easier than him seeing himself for what he truly is. He would rather feel powerful through whatever means necessary than acknowledge how powerless he actually is and his lack of self-control. Regardless of what he does to me, I often think about how weak a person would have to be to go to this extent of evil to feel they are in control of their life.

I was 17 back then and I met this guy at my college. He was a flirty rich bad boy type and I guess that attracted me at that teenage phase of my life. I expressed my interest in him and we soon started dating. On a particular day he send me a nude picture and I understood that we wanted to sext. Millions things were running in my mind. I was reluctant at first considering as I was always this introverted shy girl who gave preference to my culture where sex is a taboo. Upon my denial he manipulated me into sending nudes saying this is what girls do when they really love a guy. My naive and foolish self gave in. Later he wanted to have sex, I on the other hand wanted to lose my virginity only to a true love. With the same manipulation, I gave in once again. I was tired of seeing him flirt with other girls, trying to control my moves and messages only related to sex. I wanted to break up and his reaction was rather unexpected. He started shouting, verbally abusing and threatened to leak my nude pictures if I don't sleep with him again. I was afraid and ashamed to reveal this to my friends or family. My life turned upside down. I wet my pillow with tears as I realized this guy whom I loved is now ready to destroy my happy life. For many months he kept on sending these threats and I was trying to put on a happy face and hiding all the anxiety and fear I was facing from my people. A couple of his friends started sending me lewd messages and claimed they saw my nude pictures. I was devastated and wanted to burn my body. But I did the opposite. I dropped out my college, threw my phone from a cliff, cut everyone from my life and started preparing for law school entrances. Today, I study in one of the premier law schools and I am fearless since I know the legal know-how to tackle abusive exes and their revenge porn crimes. Still, the idea of being in a relationship and trusting men is scary because I have been scarred for life while I see that he leading quite a joyful life and dating a pretty girl. I felt like sharing this story to show women that you need to come out and say what's bothering you immediately and seek legal help and do not crumble like I did. Life is going to much better after whatever you faced. You need hope.

I, Name was sexually molested by my Mother's boyfriend for years 1969-1974... when she found this out she was so Angry but WITH ME !! Because " I did NOT TELL HER. " She'd beat me up 2 times that month already.. but on MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION night was WORST in my life. I had HER permission to go to graduation parties. (but HER boyfriend did not want her to let me go and HE is still angry for telling on him.) so SHE ripped off my beautiful 100% COTTON white dress tearing it to shreds, I'm full of bruises and scratches. .next day I show her my 8th grade grad photo book PROVING whole group of us were ALL 8th grade STUDENTS walking home from party and THE MALES were in fact 8th grade graduates and NOT MEN like HE SAID. All MONTH she questioned me for details But when HE came home .mother ACTED like all was fine because she did not want him to know she's still questioning me. Finally, I'M awakened to come to mother's bedroom to see what "SHE' wants....Name pulls my pajama bottoms down..I pull them back up..HE pulls them down again..I pull them up again..he jerks my LEFT ARM landing me into mother's bed *WITH MOTHER ALSO..I'm pulling away from him and I SAY NO !! He calls on mother " Mother', I can't get it in..she won't be still. " Mother( MY BIOLOGICAL MOTHER ) got up, turned around on her knees in her bed while leaning over my head..SHE PUT HER HANDS on BOTH MY SHOULDERS and I felt her mattress springs from her heavy weight..SHE SAID to him "GO AHEAD, GIT IT, GIT IT..BUT DON'T NUT IN HUH"...I still remember looking into my mother's eyes for MY MOM.. My MOTHER. AND HE TOOK MY VIRGINITY. She NEVER SPOKE TO ME THAT NIGHT. Next morning : "YOU BETTER NOT TELL NOBODY or else"..I stayed SILENT. GAVE HER NO ANSWER. ** I NEVER AGREED TO KEEP HER DIRTY SECRET, but did so..because IF I told on HIM..HE could teel on HER and I would LOOSE MY Mother/My siblings and we would ALL be seperated and put into THE FOSTER CARE system !! I KNEW that as an 8th Grader. I was THEIR THIRD 'party' in their bed until I waited for Christmas presents and for SCHOOL TO REOPEN in JANUARY 1975 that's when I REFUSED TO DO IT ANYMORE. She told him to leave me alone. He bagan showing me his penis and touching himself and asking me "don't I want it?' I rolled my eyes only..soon I SEE him with his penis in my sister Sisters mouth (THEIR CHILD) and she is only 4 years old !! I TELL MOTHER on HIM..SHE IGNORED ME, does Not speak to me. I SCREAM AT HER REPEATING IT..nothing not one word. I was BLAMED for NOT TELLING HER...RIGHT? Next morning He DOES SAME to Sister while laughing at me. MOTHER MARRIES HIM on Date. She asks for a wedding ring..39 years later HE CHEATS on her with Name and brings her to Location Courthouse for his DIVORCE. Motherpresent at his DEATH BED and FUNERAL. HE gets CREMATED by HIS children. Note 1: sibling sister Name told me few years ago that he was doing same to her in 1969. Note 2: youngest sibling brother Name was ONLY 2 Years old and HAS NEVER heard MY STORY..but went to other siblings saying what HE MADE UP on Date as mother's excuse.and SHE STAYED SILENT letting him DEFEND HER..knowing she was NOT AFRAID SCARED AND WEAK of Name..BOTH OF THEM "DOUBLED TEAMED ME AND RAPED ME ..TOGETHER!!! Name interrupted Mother and I arguing because I asked her for HER APOLOGY FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME..she always had said "HE was wrong..but never herself. Name was angry with me for LAND DEEDS & stealing HIS LAND.' IF my 7 siblings don't want to BELEIVE this factual account of MY LIFE EXPERIENCES..I CHALLENGE OUR MOTHER TO A LIE DETECTOR TEST. SHE will FAIL THE TEST. I am NOT A LIAR..BROTHERS Name and Name..YOU SAID I GAVE YOU NOTHING..I let YOU & other siblings KEEP PARENTS.. & TO KNOW EACH OTHER & NOT GET PLACED INTO THE FOSTER CARE SYSTEM OF NEW JERSEY by NOT TELLING/REPORTING 2 RAPES BY TWO STEED MEN as a MINOR..you got a FAMILY ! AND Name.. YOU THREATENNED MY LIFE IF I TOLD THIS..YOU SAID "I WILL KILL YOU" FOUR TIMES TO ME and Right in front of OUR MOTHER eating the salad you brought her and SHE SAID NOTHING !! JUST 5 days later you say YOU are an 'OFFICER of Location Courts and a NOTARY PUBLIC. ps: and Name wanted 'NO DETAILS. & wife Name said "Name, Name is YOUR SISTER" ...FALSE !! OUR Mother did NOT give BIRTH to Name..who remains JUST YOUR STEPSISTER. & ATTEMPTED TO STEAL $!k from OUR FATHER'S BANK ACCOUNT **after he had died....but the BANK caught it. Today is Monday, Date END.

When I was 10, I went on a camping trip for my cousins 80th birthday. There were so many family members there and I remember it being freezing outside. I was in a camper with my dad on the pullout couch. My 40 year old cousin name in the back bedroom and his girlfriend was on the kitchen table that was made into a bed. I couldn’t sleep and my cousin name was up and he saw me shivering and told me to come to the back bedroom because it would be warmer there. I, of course, agreed because I felt safe with him and trusted him. Soon after laying down he started asking me if I was asleep. At first I responded, “No” but then I got tired of responding. Eventually he thought I was asleep and put his hand on my side before moving it under my sports bra. I remember this sports bra. It was a shitty Walmart shorts bra, grey in color, and it was one of the first bras I had ever worn. He turned me around and kissed me through my clenched teeth. I was begging to wake up from this nightmare. He stuck his hand down my pants. He got up and I remember hearing crinkling noise and looking back on it, he might have been opening a condom, but I didn’t know that. Once he got back into the bed, I pretended to wake up and got back on the couch with my dad. I remember laying there in shock with what just happened. I laid there eyes wide open and I couldn’t sleep. Eventually I told friends and family and I’m so thankful for how supportive they were of me.

i just feel like im going to burst today with all the shame, and anger that no justice will ever be had. so i have many friends who are SA survivors and i by no means feel like my story is the worst but heavy nonetheless. we moved a lot growing up, i was always changing schools. my parents where pretty busy with my 2 younger siblings and i remember often feeling forgotten unless i was needed as a babysitter. i do have a weird memory of pretending to be asleep while something happened to me but its so foggy im not sure it really happened. my first time getting assaulted that i do remember was 8th grade. i had recently started dressing sexier and me and my 2 friends loved the attention we got. that being said i was still very inexperienced sexually and just liked looking good. there was a boy on the bus who started to force himself into my bra and into my panties everyday. sometimes while others watched. i strangely developed a crush on him despite being made to feel uncomfortable when he wouldnt stop when i said to stop. the bus driver contacted the school and i was interviewed by the principal but i defended this boy because i didnt want him to be mad at me. i even went to his house one day where it continued. i told my mother about this one incident years later and she said see this is why we were worried about you dressing so slutty. :/ he left a couple years then came back when we were juniors. i received an apology via aim ( im aging myself) where he said sorry and that what he had done was not very romantic. this is probably the only apology ive ever received. that same year another boy masterbated in the back of class while staring at me during a movie day. i pretended to be asleep because i was so horrified and frozen. i saw him a decade later he definetely remembered me and he did look quite guilty. i ended up in one of those boarding schools for troubled teens for 10 months which had its own fair share of trauma but non sexual. when i got out i inherited 8 grand from my grandparents and got an apartment with my best friend and went crazy with drugs. i went to florida with a friend i knew from the program and while there at a party one night i had a train run on me by 7 guys while i was super drunk. one of whom i had rejected a day before and he was literally making fun of me while fucking me. fast forward i start using heroin and get my very own heroin addicted boyfriend. we were a trainwreck and that relationship could be its own book but he raped me while i was passed out, and also raped me when we were experimenting with rough sex and when i said the safety word he continued while i pleaded with him to stop. he died 3 years into our relationship of an overdose. i started sleeping around a ton but had no more terrible experiences that i can remember. although i did sleep with people for drugs or a place to stay. i got clean but got addicted to a man when i was 25. would spend the next 7 years with someone who would sleep around because he was a man but i couldnt because i was a woman. he pressured me into doing anal which i hated and i often found myself having sex when i didnt want to but nothing as terrible as with my first boyfriend. although yes the bar was set quite low. the last and honestly most troubling thing that happened was that once i broke up with this guy i was on tinder. i connected with a guy on tinder that i knew through friends. things escalated and i sent him a video of myself masterbating at his request. come to find out it was him and a group of guys talking to me and all my photos and videos were being shared in a group text. one of these guys was my best friends baby daddy and he sent the video to my best friend pretending i had sent them to HIM. he is a very scary sociopath imo and he was trying to get a rise out of my friend as well as break up our friendship because i had encouraged her to leave his crazy ass. she knew i wouldnt do that and figured it was the guy i thought i was talking who had tricked me. i had no idea that they were friends or i wouldnt of entertained him. she did give me shit for sending a video like that and tried to put the blame on me at first. i shut her down and we still talk all the time but ive never forgotten that. i saw one of them at a dinner party years later, i had no idea who he was but he humiliated me in front of all these new adult friends i was trying to make. i hate him and this group of guys more than all the others because it was so calculated and cruel. i have never pushed charges on any of them because honestly on paper i am a very unlikable victim. i have been in the psych ward many times, drug abuse, and promiscuity. im married now to my best friend and we moved across the country. i miss my friends back home but a big part of why i cant bring myself to go back to even visit is the fear of running into any of these men. i also used to want to live in florida but i think about the train and decide against it. ive been in emdr and it helps a lot as well as working on my relationship with my higher power. i blame myself often because i did put myself in some very dangerous situations. feels good to get it all out thank you if anyone has read this.

I dedicate this to the 7 year old little girl and the sister that deserved more. Seven years old, little girl, baby girl. Full of big wishes and hopes, wanting to twirl. Seven years old, little girl, baby girl. Robbed of her innocence, her wishes and hopes, wanting to hurl. I was so happy, finally, a room of my own. But what would happen was unknown. Backstreet boys, NSYNC, Brittany Spears, TLC, posters plastered on the wall, Seven years old, little girl, baby girl. But even that didn't make him stall. Friday night? Or maybe Saturday morning, I don't remember, but I was scared crying and silently moaning. My big girl room, who would have known that day my life would be ugly and cold full of gloom, and not like my favorite, beautiful days full of gloom that only come in June. Seven years old, little girl, baby girl, my witness that night? The beautiful bright moon. That night I was forced to bloom. I'm sleeping, a weird feeling wakes me up, I promise you the door was closed shut, I watched it slowly crack open, my dad, comes in but he's not my dad, because my dad is supposed to protect me and save me. This version of a dad makes me so fucking sad, I want to scream, I want to cry out loud "mom!!!!!" but he says "shhhh, you better not tell your mother, or you'll be in trouble ". Seven years old, little girl, baby girl, he popped me like a bubble and left me feeling like rubble. Every time he drinks I know my night is going to stink. My world is crashing around me and no one knows the pain im in, I'm just a kid and my life feels so fragile and thin, wondering if I will ever win. Seven years old, little girl, baby girl, this little girl doesn't have an honest grin. I lay there shut up and take it. My life goes on because I just fake it. 8 years, 9 years, 10 years old, I swear this man has been bold. During the day I have to play"Daddy's little girl" pretending I love to twril. By night? All I want to do is hurl. Because this man stole my pearl. Tonight is different, before he can get started my mom walks in, and I thought I'd finally win. "Name" she screams. He mumbles and stumbles out the door. I run to the bathroom and splash water on my face, I walk back to my room, she tucks me in and says it will be morning soon. Morning comes, mom calls me to her room, there he is standing tall and straight like a broom. He says I'm sorry for what happened last night, I don't remember, it will never happen again, I promise. I knew he wasnt being honest. I want to scream you're a liar, you're a fraud what kind of father hurts his little lad? But I don't, I nod and agree, I knew I wasn't free. She sat there and believed, but did she really? After all she was a survivor of abuse from her brother, the same brother abused my aunt and my mother. Maybe she thought I had the perfect father? It happens often the scars won't soften all I want is to be put in a coffin. Dad, you fucked up our casa, and had me committing COCSA, as if I wasn't shamed enough, I hate to say this, it makes me sick to my stomach but while my father hurt me I was hurting my sister, I gave her the same blister, baby Im sorry, I know sorry is not enough, but I promise it's not a bluff. Saying this out loud is fucking tough. My "I'm sorry" will never be strong enough. May 2001, our home is raided by cops, he was a Japanese cook with the biggest side hustle in the book this guy thought he was a capo working for El Chapo, turns out he was just a fucking naco. I loved my dad but I hate the man that hurt me. Years and years on endless nightmares of him creeping back into my bedroom again and again. Knowing damn well he couldn't hurt me again. 20 years of no contact and he decides to die.Date he didn't get to see I turned into a beautiful queen, he died all alone, but I'm not like him, no, my heart isn't made of stone. I cried the day he died, the feeling I couldn't hide. I mourned "Name Chan Nah" twice that day. The first was the day he killed me and put my soul in an urn, when I was just seven years old. The second was the day he died, and I don't even know if he put up a fight. I forgive you for your sick mentality, and your death was a fatality. But my daughter? She has the perfect daddy, and that's my reality. My strength now? Is pure vitality. 35 years old, happy girl, babygirl, ALWAYS wanting twirl. Making her wishes and dreams come true no longer feeling blue. I now have a family who loves me and a husband that trusts me. I can hold my own, I promise you. These hands? I can throw, I am woman hear me roar, my power God has sworn, but if you touch me your life I will mourn, because my husband has sworn. He doesn't play when it comes to me and your life will end and he'll set your soul free. A meeting with God, you'll see. To the underworld? Maybe? Idk I just know that I'm happy and free to be me. What's to come? You'll see.