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I was raped by my ex and I feel like I will never be the same. I had just turned 18 when we met and he turned 21 the next month. We dated for 10 months and had contact for a month and a half after the breakup. He started off fine then after about 5 months he made me feel dependent on him. He started separating me from friends and after that he tried to pull me away from my family. He would tell me he didn't "like how much I talked to my mom about him" and I "make him seem like the bad guy". I was only ever talking to her about whenever he did something that deeply upset me and I didn't know how to handle the situation. He would do the same to this older woman he was online friends with for 3 years. She was in her mid 30s. We lived in one state and after a job fell through on our 6 months mark, he moved 12 hours away back to his home state to live with his grandpa again. I visited on month 7 and then in month 8 I graduated high school and had summer break before going to college. So, he came for my graduation and then in June (month 9) I went to be in his home state with him until the first week of August to go to school. This is when things went from bad to worse. These next 3 months of my life were the worst in ways I can't even describe. When we went back to his state he started to groom me to be okay with abuse. He stopped taking no as an answer and it turned into "it'll be quick" or "only a couple strokes". So I started giving in. When we first started dating we decided that CNC was okay but we needed to talk about it the night before. that disappeared. He would wake me up in the middle of the night and I would say no or sometimes act like I was sleeping extra heavy. When I said no it was the same lines until I gave in. If I played asleep he would proceed to try to violate me but I would "sleep roll over" away from him or on a couple occasions I just shoved him off me and laid facing away. This was almost every night. It was the same routine. I had nobody in that state to talk about it and my family and friends were back in my state. I would call them when I could but he would always talk over the top of me until they stopped wanting to call. I'd call whenever he was at work but they also had their own lives so it was never long. I never text anyone the issues because I was afraid he would see them and leave me. (I was so anxiously attached to him that I would have severe panic attacks at the thought of him leaving me). This was all in month 9. At the time I didn't realize it was rape or sexual assault. I thought since we were in a relationship it was normal. I didn't have the best figures to look to with relationships and so I just went with it. It was either the end of June or beginning of July that he, what I considered, raped me. I had got off work and came home just absolutely tired. I couldn't move I was so tired. He woke me up in the middle of the night. I said no. He kept touching me. I said I didn't want to do anything. He rolled me on my stomach and he took off my underwear and it wasn't until he put himself inside of me that I realized what was happening. I rolled over away from him to get him off. He huffed and flopped down next to me and ignored me that night. The next day I told him he tried to rape me, and he told me I was over reacting and called me names. I shut up. Date we broke up because my mom told him to be a man and stop making me cry (on a phone call). I seen the look in his eyes change then. He went from being someone who told me he loved me to looking at me pure emotionless. He broke up with me and bought me a flight home for Date and Time. He worked from 7p-7a that day so we decided I would take the only vehicle to the airport and then he would get a ride to it after work. On Date after he broke up with me..he pointed a loaded gun at me. I was packing everything and him and his older woman friend were belittling me for 5 hours. I had no where else to go so I kept my mouth shut and did what I could. I was laying on the bed and he was joking with me while I was on my phone. He then got super serious, walked over to the shotgun that was by his night stand and pointed the gun at me. He put his finger on the trigger and acted like he was going to shoot me. I thought he was joking at the time and dismissed him. The look of pure hatred in his eyes is something I will never forget. It's something I dream about still, a year and a half later, and a look I'd never wish on my worst enemy. The person I loved had the look of wanting to kill me in his eyes, but I didn't register just how much danger I was in until days later. After that he tried to make me sleep on a roach infested floor and acted like I was a dog before finally letting me sleep in his bed for the night. During that night I couldn't sleep. Every other night we slept right up against each other and because of all the crap that had happened that day I couldn't sleep, just cry. I kept going and calling my mom having panic attacks all night. Every time i'd get back in bed, if I even so much as pressed my back against his he would shove me so hard I hit the wall. But I still kept trying just to have something. The next morning we woke up and he wanted to have sex with me. I told him I just wanted to cuddle because I needed comfort....He told me if I had sex with him he would. I cried, the entire time. I felt so dirty. I felt miserable. Ashamed. Disgusted. He told me halfway through "at least act like you're enjoying it". I showed 4 times that day. Just to feel clean again. I didn't feel clean for the next month after that. I called my mom sobbing again. She tried to comfort me and told me how strong I was and that I only had less than 24 hours left....7 came. He took the car. He told me to figure it out. I had no money and I couldn't get an uber to take me. I missed my flight. The next morning he did the same thing with sex again. This time I turned my head to the wall and as soon as he was done I showered. 5 times I washed myself. Over. And over again. The next morning he had shoved me so hard into the wall for accidently brushing against him in my sleep that I thought my nose was going to bleed. I called my mom and begged her to come get me. I couldn't do it anymore. My mother and grandmother dropped everything and drove the full 12 hours on 2 hours of sleep to come get me. I told my ex I'd be leaving that day and he begged me to stay and started acting like the person I'd thought I was dating. He took me out to eat (I hadn't since the 9th) and he begged me to run away with him. He did the stuff with sex again but in the middle of it started telling me he loved me and begged me to stay. I told him no. He continued to beg me up until 7 when he had to go to work. When he left for work I did what I could to stay sane. I don't even know how many times I cried. It was horrible. I cried until I physically couldn't anymore. I washed my body until I felt like I scrubbed the first layer of skin off. I did that 3 times. Around 1am that night my family got there. I couldn't even hug them..I didn't want any touch. When I got home my ex would swap from going from love bombing to cussing me out, until finally... He blocked me. After he did that it was like something snapped in me. Like that control he had over me broke. Two days after he blocked me I went to the police station in my state and tried to file charges against him for what he did to me. They were very helpful and helped me get in contact with the department in his state to pursue what I could. I had text messages of him saying he would have killed me that night we broke up. I had told my story in full detail 4 times to 3 different people. Then on day 4 of him blocking me, he unblocked me and begged for me back. I recorded a phone call between he and I talking about him raping me, threatening me, pointing a gun at me, and then I told him to leave me the fuck alone. I sent it to the detectives. For a month he and his friends were stalking me and sending me horrible messages, which I sent to detectives. I blocked everyone and waited. 11 months after the rape and me escaping, and 10 months after finally the report later I had no response. No call backs, no returning my voicemails or emails. No nothing. So I called the chief in his state to get answers. Finally I heard back. My evidence was circumstantial, we were dating so it was harder to prove, that I didn't do a kit so they had no physical evidence, and the best one was him telling me I never called the cops. I tried to explain that I was 12 hours from everything I knew, with a man who pointed a gun at me and made me do all sorts of things and I was worried about surviving at that moment. It didn't matter. This was in the middle of July of this year. Since then I've been trying to find legal sources that could help me press charges and so far...nothing has worked for me. It's been a year a half and I still have reoccurring nightmares. I still have PTSD episodes from certain actions and phrases. I have a wonderful boyfriend of 10 months and a beautiful dog that we adopted together. But with having so much now there is still so many feelings I have. And I have nobody to talk to about these feelings. My boyfriend tries to be there for me but he doesn't understand my feelings on the level that I need someone to understand. I feel so alone..I feel like I will never be the same, or even remotely the same, since before my ex. I'm now 20 and somedays I don't know if I'll make it to 21. But I have a fire lit in me and I want justice. I want my ex to not be able to hurt another woman the way he hurt me or get no punishment. I think that fire and my boyfriend and dog are what keeps me going and is what will keep me going until I can say that I'm finally living for myself and not for someone else.

He was my 18 year old brother. I was 15. Every night for five nights I never said anything. I just lay there and closed my eyes and waited for it to be over. After the first night I started locking my door and pretending to be asleep when he picked the lock but it didn’t stop him. He only stopped when I started hiding in my bathroom until 1 am when I knew he was asleep. I’m older now, an adult, and I still live with the consequences of me not telling anyone every day. The people I told later try to convince me it wasn’t my fault and they are probably right but I can’t believe it for myself. That first night he did it ruined me, I am a different person than before and I don’t know how to go back. I grew up always learning how to defended him and his actions because he was autistic and my parents favorite. Now I can’t let go that learned behavior and I keep making excuses for him in my head. I regret every time I’ve ever told someone because that makes them hate him.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

Just words. You have trouble talking about these things. You realize you have trouble talking about a lot of things. You remember being excited about your first job at Company Name. One of your friends works there and you know a lot of people work there as a summer job. It’s the 1990’s and it’s been grandfathered in that they can pay you less than minimum wage because it’s like a part time training experience for students getting their first work experience. Like a newspaper route. Those are for boys. You got so excited after being nervous you asked for an application along with your friend. You don’t remember meeting him then. So many people want to get chosen for that crap job because for some reason it’s become a sought after thing among the cool kids. You do remember the phone call that you can come for an interview. Walking home you wonder if being cute and having larger breasts than most almost freshman girls had something to do with it. You met Name and remember him for sure this time. The way you look has been a curse far more than a blessing. One reason people would not feel that bad for you. 'God sure blessed you, honey." You have so many bad memories, blocked memories, repressed memories because of Name. You are having second thoughts as tears build up. You need a drink. You quit drinking years ago and today you have three months and eight days sober. Your record is nine months and two days. You are strong. Most of the time. You are hollow. All the time. Name wasn’t the last but he was the first. You change his name although you don’t want to. He is the symbol of your hatred of all that is wrong with men. You were tricked. Name got what he wanted from you. Too many times. Too many times before you stopped going back. Just stopped. You could have just stopped after the first time he held you close and caressed you before your mom picked you up that night. The first time. You still don’t understand or forgive yourself for that. You had let a boy at a party and a boy at an 8th grade dance put their hand up your shirt. You had liked it so much those times. It had been exciting and happy. Name did not make you happy. You went back. You want to talk about something else now. Not the other men who thought your body was their plaything. Not the time you went to Ireland with your Aunts and mom. You miss mom. That was a good trip. You got back to that a lot. You sat down to talk about things you don’t talk about. On a family trip to Adventureland you asked your cousin if was considered losing your virginity of a boy did it to your boobs. You pretended it was a cute boy, not Name. It was hard to breathe with him sitting on your torso thrusting. You sometimes break things and scream. Never when your son is around. You have two jobs and don’t really like the one that pays the most. Your college degree does not count much. How much life is wasted on despair and doubt and taking the wrong path? You feel relief when he finally finished. You hate when he finishes because you know he is stealing his ultimate pleasure from you when he has a wife. He acts like it was just another day at work to keep you on his leash. You are pathetic. His remnants are inside you every time you go home after closing with him. Just another miserable day in the life. You say nothing. You tell no one. You are worthless except as a vessel for him. Your parents say nice things to you, about you. They always have. They have to. They don’t know what you really are. A black shame is the times you felt pleasure in your body while he was doing it do you. At least while you remained quiet and motionless there was some dignity. Defiance. Insult to him. When your body and voice reacted like you liked it it was a betrayal. Like you liked that tub of disgusting man on top of you and inside of you, fucking you on that tile floor, kissing you like a lover. You befriended a group of guys by mid high school. Over a year after Name was more than thorn in your soul. A deep callous. The group figured out what you were. They played football. They were important and had strong will. They shared you and passed you around. They told you they loved you. That you were the coolest girl. They took what they wanted when they wanted. Why? Name 2 was you lab partner for biology. He was the first. He was the only one your age. You went in his car for lunch and met some others. They wanted you. You volunteered. It is all you are good for. Draining them of their juice so they can be happy and feel like men. So you can feel empty and dirty. Even after they graduated they got together for group fun, or had you sneak out at night to go for a ride. You headed far west after you graduated. A fresh start. An exodus. An escape. You went to one reunion. The ten year reunion. Name 2 came with his wife. He introduced you as his ex-girlfriend. You let hm take you to the disabled restroom and have his quickie. You went to the bars afterward and ditched your real friend and let Name 3 take you back to his hotel room to live his fantasies just because he claimed that he always loved you. They say attractive people have sex more frequently with more partners than normal people. The darkness behind that statement is that for females it is no always because they want it that way but because of the relentless pressure from men and how they will do anything if they get the opportunity. You are not a nice innocent girl. Would you have been if it had not been for Name like you want to think? Would you have let your much older cousin you barely know take you back into the woods with him behind their house to the shack where he smokes pot after a wedding. Then wait there for him to call his friends after he found out you were a bad girl and wait for them too. Swatting flies in your underwear while you waited for them. You did not drink because your mom did not allow it even though kids younger than you were. But your cousin and his local friends did. Four of them counting your cousin old enough to be your uncle. Still, you acted like you liked everything they did. They took it so far like you were the world's greatest toy. Porn star, they called you like it was the best thing you could be. The anal was excruciating. It was easier to just wash off all your makeup than to try to fix it after all the sweat and sticky. Smiles and complements followed by the deep hollow feeling of total isolation in the station wagon on the way back home from Kansas city. Hating Name and feeling like you betrayed your aunt because one of them was her fiancé. You got an infection and it was embarrassing when the doctor told you. At least it was a female doctor. The idea of a male gynecologist is unnerving. The one time you were examined by one was terrifying. You were in college. He was way too thorough and talkative like he was working up to asking you out on a date and you decided never again. The only one you ever had that did not wear gloves for the breast exam. The most sensual digital vaginal exam you ever had to check the cervix and ovaries for pain. Was his thumb supposed to be brushing your clitoris? You even wonder if he was recording it on his phone that you saw him adjust twice as it was peaking out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. His stupid November mustache he asked you if you liked. So some days you don’t eat. You exercise to maintain the body they want. It gives you value to them. You are nothing. People always say nice things. Hollow things. What if you had never met Name? What if you never got fucked on the floor for $3.45 an hour. On your back, on your hands and knees, sometimes even on top of him. Your first orgasm on that floor that smelled like stale milk and bleach. Having to tell your mom pick you up 45 minutes after the place closes for your cleaning duties. You used tampons just to keep from his semen leaking out on the way home. You pretended to be a virgin when you were far from it. He told you not to worry because he had a vasectomy. That part must have been true. You don't got on dates even though they always try to set you up. Not a chance. Your son is a good excuse. And a real reason. Real love. The Earth spins in space. Why can’t it just freeze and die like me? Your boss doesn’t go all the way with you because he won’t cheat on his wife. You give him oral because he doesn’t think that counts. Preserves his purity. He says he wants to so badly, like he can take whatever he wants from you but he is strong and valiant. You are nothing. He is handsome. You let him kiss you and fondle you. You long for his touch. He is not a great man but you long for him. The closest thing to a good man you have known. A father figure. Your son needs a father figure. He is everything. He deserves better. He loves you. He tells you are a good mom and that is worth enduring the world for as long as it takes. You put on a good face but he knows you are hollow, deep down. A wounded duck pretending to be a swan. Always pretending. Was there no pretending before Name? Maybe not. The days begin and your mind pretends and it is hard and the days end. Bad dreams on both ends. Will he be a good man? The funny thing is you want him to be a prince because he is your prince but even if he is like most men you want his total happiness. You want beautiful girls, good times, and strong friends for him. You exist to fake it and to have let those men enjoy you but mostly to give your son the best life possible beyond you. You are not worthless. It is not your fault. You are stronger than you know. Hollow words. They have to say it. They always have. No creativity. No insight. No truth. Just words.

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