Community

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.

I’m a 27 year old female now but when I was about the age of 6-7 my sister would kiss me on the lips. I vividly remember laying down on my bathroom floor (which she told me to do) and would just tell me to relax. She is 4 years older than me. I also remember one time I really wanted to kiss her and she said yes. I think it was a game to me at that point. She had left for a moment and I got naked. I remember she came back and said to put my clothes on because our dad was going to take us out to eat. Those are the only moments I remember but my mind might be pushing down other similar moments I had with her. I’m struggling now to have a relationship with her. She has never talked about it, but I feel like she remembers. It’s so hard to speak to her without getting annoyed or frustrated. She is annoying to me and never communicates well, she tends to always ask a question when asked a question. She’s never wrong and is hard headed. At this point I feel like I need to speak to her about this and distance myself to heal. I don’t even know what I want but I just don’t want to feel this way.

The first time I was raped, I did not know it. Blaring music and spilled drinks, you were there Persistent, like a dog. Nagging, Nagging, Nagging. Hands running down my thighs, the phrase “babe it’ll make me feel better.” Your words clanging in my head, pounding like hammers against my ears One phrase slips out of my mouth, “fine just stop asking.” Waking up on the bathroom floor, aching from head to toe Before you take me home, you buy plan b. You had taken the condom off. I cry. My virginity stolen from me, that was my definition of love. The second, oh god the second time. My life plummets. Alcohol burning down my throat, stumbling, falling to the floor, You offer me your bed. Drifting off in a drunken haze, the hands are back But they belong to a friend. Suddenly his hands are choking, digging into my skin, bruising The word “STOP” falls on deaf ears. The tears start spilling down my face when I realize I cannot fight anymore and I go limp. Blood between my legs, oh god it hurt. Oh God, Oh God, why me? Why him? The third time, yes there was a third time. Another friend. Another familiar face. More lights, more pain, too drunk to move, I leave quietly the next morning. I always leave quietly. A thought that will not leave, “I am the common denominator” “I am the problem” Rumors spread like wildfire, each one a knife to the heart, a burning in my stomach. My name in everyone's mouths, I am drowning, my voice gone, stolen. No, ripped from my throat, brutally. My story is not my own. My body is not my own. It is filled with the bile and rot and filth of these men, these men who violated my body like I was not a being with a soul, with emotion and a heart beating like their own, but an object. Women are not made to be abused, to be a scratching post for horny, lonely men who cannot control their hands or their dicks. Survivors have to carry the burden. I carry the burden of my rape. The trauma, the shame, the grief, the horror, the anger, the guilt. But to the men who raped me, I give it to you. It is not my shame, it is yours, it is not my guilt, it is yours, it is not my fault, it is yours. And I am free.

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

I was in my local pub, the landlady told me someone knew to the area was lonely so I asked him to play pool. We hung out a few times after that, one time walking home at the end of the night he took my hand I told him I had a boyfriend. Not long after I was out with my brothers and we met him, after a while they went home and then me and him were walking home, we lived very near each other in a small town so it was normal to walk together. I don't know who suggested walking through the playground which I'd done a million times with other people, but I remember he was kissing me and 3 times I said no and asked him to stop then I froze as I realised I didn't really know him and he could do anything to me, all I could think was let him do whatever he wanted to me as long as I survive and get home to my boyfriend. The next morning I woke up and went to the bathroom, I was bleeding from where he'd raped me anally and bruised where he'd held my arms down. I had love bites on my chest.I don't know how I got home. I started to drink more as I kept bumping into him and he kept asking me to go out with him. When I went to the place of work for work I'd bump into him on the street and need to run home and drink so I could calm down before going back to work. I rang support organisation, I was told not to tell my boyfriend as that would only upset him. 8 years later I went to rehab for alcoholism. It was that or suicide. I did meet up with him once more a few weeks after the assault as I needed to tell him what he'd done was not okay, he didn't care, said he didn't remember. I still feel angry and guilty for not reporting him but he's from another country and left my town many years ago so its not possible, I don't even know his last name. I just hope he hasn't done it to anyone else. I was also afraid that if I reported him that my boyfriend would leave me or that I wouldn't be believed because I was drinking with him. I wish when the landlady asked me to help him that I hadn't and never feel like I can trust my instincts since then.

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

I'm 37 year old male survivor in my country. I don't know what to share yet. I am a survivor of multiple assaults in childhood and early adulthood, mostly with female assailants. I think I'm ready to talk with some female survivors (though not in most details). To be honest this scares me though. My experience with advocacy and support groups (apart from a website specifically for male survivors) in the past has been very negative. I have always wondered what a *true* coalition of survivors of all genders would look like.

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

My name is Name, I’m an indigenous person from Place, USA. I’m a daughter, sister, mother, and a Survivor. I never really thought that I would end up in the relationships I ended up in but, here I am sharing my story! The last 12 years of my life I had been in and out of relationships, had two sons out of two of those relationships. They are the best parts of those relationships and times in my life. I know they in some way saved me and helped me survive to be here today sharing. My last two relationships I were in, were the worst abusive relationships. My youngest son came out of one of them, and to this day I still have to deal with one of my abusers because we have a child together. In that relationship I was physically, emotionally, mentally, financially, and sexually abused. I went through things that I didn’t even know that happened until the next day or days after. My ex we can call him Nameabused me mostly when he was already drunk, it was always when we were drinking that he would start arguments with me or his jealousy would come out more. Little did I know that at one time he had sexually assaulted me while I had passed out from drinking and when I woke up asking if something happened; something didn’t feel right. Nametold me “yeah you don’t remember?” And clearly I had no clue but according to him “I wanted it!” But how could I even know that or even say “yes” to anything being passed out. This was the first time he raped me but it wasn’t the last. Nameand I were in a relationship for 3 1/2 years in that time he physically would hurt me, force himself on me or take advantage of me while I was sleeping . It became unsettling to sleep at night knowing something might happen. At that time I was also taking care of my oldest son from a previous marriage and my youngest who was a baby on top of working full time. So I was exhausted from everything. I used to wake up to either text messages saying how worthless I was or name calling me because I had fallen asleep and not awake when he would get home. Or I would wake up to him yelling at me because I was defending myself in my sleep as he was trying to sexually assault me. Everything became my fault according to him. It was so dysfunctional, that at that time I was even drinking heavily. The pandemic hit and that was the beginning of the end of our relationship, I was so exhausted, depressed, just at the point of breaking! Our last fight ended with him calling the police on me and turning the narrative like I was the aggressor because he had spammed me on the ground and was hurting me, I defended myself, I felt so misunderstood and betrayed especially when the police wouldn’t let me speak and listen to me. I know now I’m not the only woman this has happened to in domestic violence situations. I take that as that was my way out yeah I got booked, finger printed and had charges which in the end Namedidn’t want either for me because he knew I didn’t do anything. In his words he just called them to “calm me down” he honestly thought I would go back to him after that NOPE! That was the end of it my freedom from him, with my sons. At that time I thought I would never get back into a relationship like that again, I knew the signs; I thought I knew it all! BOY was I wrong! My life at that time was spiraling out of control, I was lost but yet still thinking that I was completely mentally okay! I was dating and still drinking, I was rebellious at that time. It was almost a year later that I ended up meeting my last abuser, the one that almost ended my life! They say something you repeat things until you learn the lesson and I sure did that! This guy was handsome, charming, everything I ever wanted in a guy or so I thought! I’ll call him Name for the purpose of privacy reasons, but he really put on a great performance and mask! He was a small business owner and he made himself seem like he was down on his luck. He used the fact that I was previously in an abusive relationship as away to get close to me and give me false promises. Name promised me the entire world, I was “the best thing to ever happen to him!” And he was going to treat me the way I always should’ve been treated. Things went very fast for us when we first met. Our first meeting he was already referring me as his girlfriend. At the time I thought it was just so sweet and I felt like I was dreaming. For the first two months our relationship was amazing, he was good with my sons, and my family liked him. But at that point he definitely showed me a side of him that I didn’t like his jealousy. He made it clear that I couldn’t tapk to anyone of the opposite sex or have friends that were either. He slowly cut me off from everyone and everything! I quit my job because he told me to in the end and that I would be better working for him. Which that was a huge mistake! He and I were together 24/7 and it got to the point that where he started to verbally abuse me; his words were hurtful! He would tell me if I just listened and he obeyed him then none of it would happen but if I counted to be “bad” then he would continue to get mad at me. It wasn’t until about 6 months into our relationship is when Name became physically abusive with me. The first time it happened I was completely scared out of my mind, I froze, I was crying but I was told to be quiet or it would be worse. After that every time he would get mad at me I would be physically hurt on top of being verbally, emotionally, mentally, and financially abused. Those were the darkest moments of my life, there were days that I thought I would never get out of it. I felt trapped, and alone. Name made me completely dependent on him and I had to ask him to do anything right down to using the bathroom. I did nothing alone, showering, getting dressed, taking care of myself when it was that time of the month all of it! I was his prisoner! He would refer to me as his “Indian Slave” amount other very racially charged names that were so mean and hateful! He told me that if I ever left he would blackmail me, he kept complete control over me. He got my addicted to substances that I had never even done in my life, even doing drugs I had never even thought I would do! All to keep me under his control! This was a daily thing every day to obey him and if I didn’t then he would get mad for hours even days u til he would get over whatever he was mad at me about and then things would be “normal” for about a day or two then right back into it again. It was a sick cycle! I was exhausted mentally and physically! Survival mode every day is a lot for a person. The last and final time he abused me was complete torture, he tortured me for 3 to 4 hours and in that time He almost took my life! He strangled me to the point I couldn’t breathe, I lost my sight, the ability to see, and hear! I was close to dying! When he finally let go and I came back I knew I had to find away out, after being physically hurt more after that, hours had past he made me fall asleep with him. When we woke up I knew then I had to get my son who was in another room away from me and run! Somehow, someway I did just that, Name tried to hold me son against me not letting me take him, but it was my voice of screaming for my son that I was able to pick him up and run into the woods with him. It was the only thing I could think of to do and doing that with the clothes I had on and the clothes my son (youngest) had on I saved our lives, I ran to safety I knew the way I was going that the police station would be there. That was the motivation for me to keep going, thankfully someone had seen me with my son running and they called the police along with others who had called before, letting them know “hey this woman and child need help!” And they did I managed to make it on the main road and I was scared walking looking around hoping that Name wouldn’t drive up and try to take us or worse run us over, I almost asked someone for help but it was at that moment that I had looked up and saw the police coming right at me! I was all kinds of emotions, happy, sad, sacred, relieved! I told them what happened and I’m so glad I did as scary as it was to speak up it was the best decision I made for myself and my youngest son my oldest son thankfully want there at the time. But I knew that this was the time that I either needed to smarten up or I was going to end up not being here! I finally said to myself I learned my lesson and now I must truly, truly that this serious and heal from this and take a good look at myself so that this doesn’t happen to me again in any relationship. That was just over two years ago now and my abuser has been in prison for what he did to me, he got sentenced to 9 years, but he only has to do 5 years then he can get put on probation with speculations if he violates that then he goes back to prison for 4 years. I am one of three women that he has abused, I was the third one to speak out and the first one to put him prison for domestic violence. I’m in therapy and counseling for all the abuse I’ve been through and have been single since this all happened I’m taking my time, being smart about it all not rushing anything. I also will always speak out and share my story to help others because no one deserves to be treated this way! This wasn’t love! Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that or almost get one killed over it! So if my story can help others I’ll always continue to share. Thank you for letting me share this on here for others!

I haven’t been able to talk about my story because I feel invalid, because it wasn’t of an older person, because we were both children, because we were the same age, because “it was just a crush”. A boy in my primary school used to like me for a few years (Year 2-Year 5) and I didn’t feel the same way. I’ll admit, in year two, I liked the attention, I liked having the nice compliments “Your hair looks really pretty today”, “Your eyes are so green I really like them!”. But from me, it wasn’t a crush, I didn’t have interest in him. One day in year 3, I was sat next to him in my class. We were placed at the back and our tables were in split for two people and were in rows, so nobody could really see us at the back or at least they didn’t focus on us. I was writing when I felt a hand gliding up my thigh and lifting my skirt. I stopped writing and turned to the boy, who was grinning at me and I had never felt more disgusted in my life. I whispered for him to stop but his hand kept inching closer up my skirt to my knickers, of which he started to push his hand underneath. It wasn’t until I finally squirmed away that he stopped and glared at me. I didn’t say anything because he was scary to me, he was bigger than me, and so were all of his friends. He used to kiss me on my cheeks, on my head, on my neck, and I would tell him to stop but he said it was okay because everyone did it. I was 6. I feel invalid because of that. I feel that there’s no need for me to speak up because I was so young, and he was 7 so he was young too. Nothing would happen. I was scared, he would tell me not to tell anybody or he would hurt me. One day, I was walking back inside and I felt him run up behind me and start grabbing me from behind and (massaging) my bum. I kicked and squirmed until he let go of me and I ran inside to tell a teacher because I was so scared that he would chase me. I told her everything, I trusted her. She told me (and I quote) “You know sweetheart, he probably has a crush on you. It’s just what boys do. He might be going through something, you know what he’s like.” I left home early because I couldn’t stop crying. I told my dad and he called my school, they hadn’t even put any of it on record. Meaning, there was no word of that kid touching me anywhere. My dad threatened the teacher I spoke to with police if she didn’t put it on file. I still don’t know if she did, but I would assume she did. I hate myself for telling somebody, because after that, until I left primary school, I was bullied constantly. I remember being cornered on the school field by 5 of his friends, they all lifted up my skirt and made fun of me because I was wearing pink panda knickers. I had never felt so dehumanised over one, small incident. I told teachers, and they did nothing. I was at my lowest, wanting to harm myself. From the age of 7. I was self harming by I was 8. That boy has made me repulsed by physical affection, and I push away a lot of good boys because I’m scared of something similar happening back from when I was 6. I’m sorry this post was so long. But it means the world to even just talk about it. I hope anyone who has gone through a similar situation heals and realises that, it’s not “just a crush” and it’s not “because they’re like that”. It’s wong, and you were taken advantage of, no matter how young, or old you were. You are loved and appreciated.

I was married and attending a wedding with my now ex husband. His friend came up to me shoved his knee between my legs, grinder on me and backed up and said, now who wants to smell my knee. I was humiliated and my ex and his friends dismissed me and said that's just how he is. I pushed thw issue and my ex verbally attacked me for telling a guy friend of mine who was taking up for me. I was beaten down emotionally and my ex pushed me to apologize to his friend. And I did. I have healed now, I am able to talk about what happened without fear of what could happen. And that had made me feel powerful.

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

I went out with friends but left early as I was drunk and tired and I asked someone for directions to find my Uber when another guy asked if I was going to uni and said I was pretty which was fine but he then asked if he could have a kiss. I didn't know what to do so I stepped towards him and then he put his arm round me and I felt like I had to kiss him but I didn't want to. I tried to face away from him hoping he would just kiss my cheek but he didn't so I turned my head and he kissed me and I feel gross and want to throw up every time I think of it.

Where to begin because abuse and shame has always been a part of my being. But at 55 I've come so far and built so much on my own, I cant help but feel proud and somehow I still feel like I didnt make it. I was born to an unwed mother and was taken from her as a baby, in foster care for maybe 2 years maybe more, no one has ever told me the truth about that. My mother did go and get me, and she married my stepfather and he adopted me. My mothers parents despised my existence. I can clearly remember the first time I can recall speaking to my grandmother, I was about 4. I called her name because my mother had asked me to tell her something. I remember standing there petrified to call my grandmothers name. Something a child should never feel. I just knew she hated that I was even in her house, but yet I didnt know yet why I knew this. Being there was like torture for me and I didnt understand why until I was an adult. I just felt like they just were so bothered by me. I never felt comfort there and we visited them quite a bit. Growing up, my mother was no prize either, thank god for my dad and his family or I'd never known any kind of love. I was constantly told she wished she'd never had me, and was beaten up or neglected pretty badly, though she's say you should know what a beating is, which at the time was scary, as an adult it made me feel anger at her and sorry for her at the same time. It seems I was always chasing someone to love me. It was never just given to me aside from my dad's side. My whole life was a battle. I used to go to the neighbors house to get away from her yelling or insults to why was I like this and why couldnt I be more like that. I never felt like I was enough again not understanding it but hating how I felt. At the neighbors Id play with an older girl that molested me for a few years. And sadly I wanted the attention. I felt gross after though. And embarrassed of myself. In school I always felt like a weird kid, even though I had friends I believed they didn't really like me. Oddly I'm still friends with the same girls now, crazy how abuse and self esteem can destroy ones sense of self. I was sexually active by the time I was 14. Met my future husband at 15. He was a horrible boyfriend and on drugs when we met but I was happy to get the one night a week we'd hangout. He was 5 years older than me, had no business being with a 15 year old. But I had a boyfriend and that was all that mattered. My mom left when I was 13 so the abuse and nastiness only occurred when I was forced to visit her which I tried to avoid. But when I was 16 almost 17 she decided she wanted to be a mother again. Now I was taking care of life on my own for awhile. She insisted I break up with my boyfriend. We'd been together a year and a half, I wasnt breaking up with him. The fights got worse, they became physical, I was alot older and stronger now and at 17 I ran away to my boyfriends apartment. And the next month I was pregnant and in high school. More shame more embarrassment. But i married my boyfriend on prom weekend and I thought I was set. We had a beautiful baby boy, then another boy when I found out he was a heroin addict, I wasn't as all set as I thought. I tried to help him get clean and all that. But ultimately he chose drugs and I found out I was having our third son. We separated. 3 babies no dad. My family shook their head at me. My mother told me my grandparents would never accept me as a single mother or if i lived with another man. I couldnt figure out how to do it on my own. When my youngest was a year and a half maybe almost 2 my mother took my kids claiming she was helping me get on my feet, I wasnt allowed to see my kids for 18 months. I was devastated and lost. I took a job at a bar bartending and got caught up in that world of drinking and cocaine. I wasnt a big drinker or drug user but I wanted to belong to something and there I did. I met a guy though that helped me get my kids back and helped me get an apartment and I thought Id found the one. We were together 7 years total, and in that time he reminded me how he should of left me in the bar where he found me and I was damaged goods and what ever other name I could be called. He used to tell me all these guys think you are all that but I get to see how you look with no make up and how gross I was. Who would want that? He'd kick me while we were out in front of people. I always kept trying to be perfect enough but i never was. There was verbal and physical abuse for years but he accepted me and 3 kids and who'd want that? My mother would say I was lucky to have found him. The final straw was he was verbally abusing my oldest. He was awful to him and he was worth getting away from him. Years later I found the abuse so much more than I couldve imagined and I didnt get my kids out soon enough. I then dated a guy who was on the run from the cops, I found out. It didnt last long but long enough to have my face bashed in and end up in the hospital. And my oldest son went to live with my sister. Because I wasnt good enough to raise him. It was all good though. He was safe. From there it was on to baby dad number 2, a ladies man married and in the process of a divorce. He thought he was the shit. And I found out I was pregnant about a year into "dating" . I had that baby on my own. He denied it was his child. I was a slut to him, even though I wasnt. We worked together so I had to act like it wasnt his and the whole job questioned it. My 2 other sons had issues with school and getting in trouble so it was us and the baby and trying to keep them in line. I never felt more defeated. The new baby was about 6 months old and dad wanted to play daddy. By the time my youngest was 9 months old we'd moved in together after his begging to let him be a dad, as if I'd ever stopped him. We moved in together and within a month I caught him cheating with multiple women. WTF was I going to do now. I gave up my house and moved all the younger kids in. So I stayed. The 2 boys from my first marriage were in and out of juvie. The babys father held it over my head and threatened me with it. So I kept trying to make it work. And he kept cheating. But at his insistence, we tried for another baby, he said he'd stop cheating. We got pregnant with my daughter, and he kept cheating. I mean like he was on dating websites. It was insane. He was a narcissist. He cheated on me while I was having our daughter in the hospital. He was all day telling me if I were more like this or that he'd stop or he'd take my babies because of the trouble my boys were in. I was 2 months post partum and he said if i wasnt so fat he wouldnt cheat. Who says that? Couldnt I ever just have a normal family? Maybe I was damaged good as Id heard all those years ago. After back and forth moving across the country to try and fix this, moving back after the housing market crashed, right before my daughters first birthday I threw him out. Out of his own house. Go be with the girl and he did. And cheated on her. Years go by constant berating and belittling because now I'm the ex with the kids and suing him for support. Years of it, Didn't matter that I had court orders and full custody, he was going to tear me apart, sooo many texts. Saying the most vile things that could be said. For years. So in the meantime he'd lived with about 7-9 different women I lived alone with the kids. But wait there's more... I had a good life and my shit together, when along came the worst of the worst, a loud, mean, life of the party type guy that everyone outside loved and anyone that knew him closely despised. And now he's my boyfriend. And in the beginning he was the sweetest. He wined and dined me and was sweeping off of my feet. I deserved it! After all the years I found my guy. Secretly, and slowly he showed who he was. We were together 4 years. Lived together 18 months. I hated him when we lived together 6 months. He hated my daughter with a vengeance. He was outwardly verbally abusive to her once we lived together. And I was having no part of it and asked him to leave, he did not. Mind you there were 2 and a half years of abuse, more vile than my kids father said to me and once again I keep effing trying. So desperate for normal. So badly wanting a family and happiness. So I moved in with him. And I said he was torturous. And god forbid Id make him stop abusing me, it was when it was my child yet again I got out. But this one not so easy, I asked him to go and he didnt and I couldnt get him out because the landlord insisted on having his name on the lease. So he wouldnt leave. And verbally, mentally emotionally and financially put me through it. One year to the day I asked him to get out, he left. After a final year of literal torture, verbally abusing my daughter and eventually my autistic son, he left. And went on to say he left me. Haha. 2 years later I moved to a small beach town with my kids, I bought a home. Reconnecting with all those I lost in the years with him. Havent heard a word from him since. Finding my way. Learning to trust myself and others. Im a full on work in progress. But I can say the strength is within and if you choose to use it , life can be a beautiful.

when i was 5, my parents divorced. one of them moved out to live with a friend. this friend had an adult daughter, who had one son my age and a son who was older. whenever i would visit, i would play games with the two boys. one game we played most often was 'mums and dads'. i was always forced to be the mum because 'i was the only girl', the older boy was the dad and the younger boy was 'our baby'. one day when i was 6 or 7, the older boy asked if i knew how babies were made. i had no idea, so i said 'no'. he proceeded to tell me what sex was. now, me being 6 or 7, i kind of just nodded and said 'okay'. he then said 'how about we make the game more accurate?' he was older and i looked up to him, so i said 'sure'. he then made his brother hide under the bed, made sure the door was shut and laid down on the bed. he pulled me on top and took off his pants and underwear, before taking off mine. he then proceeded to,,,,,,,,,well you know. we heard someone coming soon after, and he made me hide in the closet. i remember feeling like something bad had happened and i hadn't liked it, but i was too young to understand more than that. we played mums and dads a lot after that day. i haven't seen him for years now, but even when i hear his name, see pictures of his face, i panic. it's like i'm 6 years old again. sometimes i feel permanently broken. forever tainted. sometimes i feel disgusted with myself, like it was somehow my fault. i hold myself accountable for something i definitely didn’t want to happen. i think to myself ‘what if i had done something differently?’ but what could i have done? my skin crawls. i get this feeling in the pit of my stomach. a weight, a heaviness that pushes on my lungs and makes it hard to breathe. i invalidate myself. tell myself that i shouldn’t be so triggered by it. so affected. it was so long ago that i shouldn’t even remember it. after all, we can’t change the past. i hear his name, see his face and i feel like i’m about to cry. i scream, claw at my face, dig my fingernails in, but on the outside i am silent. still. i plaster a smile on my face and act like i’m okay. like i’m not broken. i found out he has a baby daughter and i cried all night. i felt terror and anger. because he's living his life not even thinking about me, when he's all i can think about i'm a survivor, not a victim.

I was 17. All my friends rented a beach house on the shore. It was our time after graduation to unwind and have some fun. Little did I know that this moment would soon haunt me for the rest of my life. It was our last night at the beach and we all began drinking. I started to get tipsy and before I know it I was on the beach with one of the popular boys from school. We ended up hooking up. He escorts me off the beach and by this point I can barely walk without stumbling. He takes me back to his house where his three friends are. I have no remembrance of how it begun but they all started to kiss me. I remember being disgusted while his one friends starts gripping me and kissing my mouth. I want it to stop but I say nothing. All three of them take turns on me. This is where my night begins to become more of a blur. I wind up at a house party. All I remember from this night are little bits of information. By this point, I was almost black out drunk. I couldn’t even walk. Somehow, I wound up in a closet with 3 new boys. I have no remembrance of how I got there. What I do remember, is being in the corner of the closet. The three boys cornering me. Pulling there pants down. I begin to cry. I tell them no. But they don’t listen. The rest is a lost memory. All I remember after, is them walking out of the closet and everyone at the party cheered. On my worst night of my life. Everyone cheered. A guy from school came and got me. Took me back to his place where I knocked out. I woke up to his friend calling my friends to get me. My friends arrive and I dropped to the ground and sobbed. I just fell to the ground and wept. I couldn’t remember in my mind but my body knew. The next day, all my friends refused to give me a ride home. I had to call my grandma to come pick me up. A few days later, I’m the trending conversation on twitter. Everyone knows about me. I’m the girl who had a threesome in a closet. A few days later, I get a harsh message from my friend who retraced my night. She Explained that I started out with the boy on the beach. Had a threesome with those boys. At the party, I was in the closet. I told them no, but then I went along with it anyways. That in the closet, someone opened the closet and saw me butt naked having sex. And when the boy retrieved me from the party, Apparently when I passed out he had sex with me too. The house maid came into the room and caught us. She told I was assaulted but it was my fault anyways because I was drunk. That messages lives in my mind. I have no recollection of that night. I woke up the next day, and I felt no hangover or nothing. I to this day believe I got roofied. I just remember feeling numb. Feeling lost. All my friends left me. And I went and slept all day at my grandmas. Too ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone what occurred. I was the girl everyone was talking about. The slut. The whore. The girl all the guys could get with. The pain of not knowing every detail chipped away at me. Thoughts swirled around my head. This was my fault: I was drunk so I have no right to be mad. I didn’t say no loud enough. Maybe I didn’t say no at all. Or maybe, even worse deep down I wanted this. I created this narrative that people painted about me. I was just the girl who was only good for sex. The girl who was just a pretty face. I told myself for years my story did not deserve to be told. Because the details were so fuzzy it probably didn’t even happen. What if I was just making it all up. I had been told I was dramatic in the past. Maybe this was just me being dramatic. I went the next 8 years, telling myself that it was somehow my fault. Convincing myself that somehow I was confused and made it up. Even though my body was keeping score. I threw myself at any man. I didn’t get close. I just fucked. Didn’t matter how many dudes in a night. I just let them do whatever they wanted to me. That was who I was so what was the point. Shortly after, my anxiety kicked in. I had panic attacks daily. I began cutting myself. I wanted to die. I told myself my anxiety and depression was because I was unhappy with my career and was stressed. I told myself I was depressed because I had gained weight and I was just unhappy with ny appearance. When truth was, I was gaining weight because I wanted to hide. Male attention meant danger. I had no trust in them and I had no trust in myself. Drinking and large groups meant loss of control. Which meant danger. My life was a spiral and I didn’t know how to get out.

"Name" There's a guy who started harassing me four months ago. I kept telling him to leave me alone and he wouldn't. He kept persisting and next I found myself really scared and out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. Mostly unconscious I heard his voice and he said that he thought he was going to have to come and get me and bring me to his house. I felt like I'd been sexually violated or assaulted and knew I'd been somewhere around some bad people. It's like I could feel their energy all over me still and inside I felt really bad and I had not felt that way before then. I couldn't remember what happened. I only remember waking up a couple times, the first time I was bawling and crying then drifted back into unconsciousness. The next time I came to I remember feeling so bad like something really terrible and ominous had happened to me and I remember hearing myself asking someone who was there with me, this guy I didn't know, if I could die now since I felt it was over, whatever terrible thing it was. Then I went unconscious again. Next thing I know this other woman is screaming and this same guy is going off on me. She's arguing with him, I think? I can only hear her saying, you know that she didn't do anything to you and she said that he was just taking his shit out on me. Before this I remember it seemed like I was talking to this guy and he started having sex with me. I was still pretty out of it but it seemed like he had sex with me numerous times. Then I was out of it again and woke up with this guy telling me someone, this guy who he and I both knew saw my little girl and said that he wanted to kill her and started telling me in graphic detail about how he brutally attacked her sexually and killed her. That woman also said, you know how he refers to you when he talks to me? He calls you "The Stupid Bitch". I didn't know who these people were and later she went off on me herself calling me a slut and telling me that he talks to her with respect and that he doesn't do that with me because I didn't deserve respect. One minute she was going off on him and telling off on him and the next she was going off on me and telling me that I'm a mean person like all those mean people that want to expose him for doing this to other people. He even told me he'd done this to other women before himself and talked a little bit about them. I didn't know what was happening or where I was and I couldn't see anything. He also told me that some people he named did the same thing to my mentally and emotionally disabled sister who was also physically handicapped. I didn't know who this guy was and upon awakening again was confused and disoriented. He started telling me that I'd just been gang raped by at least 13 guys and not just by him. I didn't believe him but he started counting how many guys were in the room. I was so out of it but started to get a really bad feeling and thought I heard other voices in the room, in the background. He said that there was a guy who was going to come to my house and hurt me. I don't know who this guy is or any of these people but I remember at some point after that seeing one guy come up off the bed, from on top of me in the dark moving around and wanting to know if I had any money or valuables and he started looking around for some. I didn't get a good look at him and I was out of it and in and out of consciousness but I did hear his voice clearly when he said he thought he would have to take me back to his place. He sounded like a young man to me. He implicated other people who were involved in this but I felt like he just did that and said that because they were people I actually knew. I kept saying, no they wouldn't do that. But then because I was still out of it at the time and had been harmed I accused one guy and confronted him and just embarrassed myself and him. Exactly what I think this guy wanted and that's not all he did. He intentionally knew I wasn't well when he targeted me, started stalking me and did all of this. I had previously been diagnosed with PTSD due to other trauma in my life and then within a period of time my mother, my cousin, who helped raise me and my sister who I had a close bond with who had just died tragically and suddenly only months before this had me in this deep shock and grief, just disbelief. I was in the darkest place of my life. Because of what some other family members did it was a real nightmare like I can't even begin to describe. It was so traumatic for me and then this happened. He did this and she did this, I knew I was being abused, shamed, humiliated and dehumanized and he was using a made up name at the time, had short black hair from what he said, then later starting using another name, Name. He told me the kind of music he liked, The Misfits and Black Flag. He creepily hit on me after severely damaging me and started saying something like he felt like he was my man now. That woman was screaming that he only wanted sex and that he was a womanizer when he was saying that to me. Both of them immediately started denying that they'd done anything when I said I was going to tell people what they did to me. I said he damaged me and every time I'd say that he'd say, "No, you weren't damaged." I just ached in pain and he'd say something like that like "No, you're not damaged." He even said I felt to kind of rub it in at one point, "C'mon, it wasn't THAT bad was it?" like he knew he'd harmed me and was being sarcastic. He said there was other guys in that room but I only ever was sure of him and her being there. I asked him why did he pick me, why did he do this? He said you want reasons? You want reasons? It's because I don't care about who you are as a person, that's why. They both kept saying that all throughout the ordeal over and over and I thought why do they keep saying that? No one cares about you as a person. We don't care about you as a person. She'd say, he has all of his shit together he just doesn't care about you as a person. Over and over like I was being indoctrinated. Then they would mention the name of someone I knew and say, *this person* doesn't care about you as a person and at one point was chanting that certain people I knew wanted me to kill myself. I still don't know to this day who these people are or were and they still haunt me and harass me inside of my head after everything I've been through I thought they tried to make me crazy, she said he does this kind of thing to fuck people like me up. It just feels like they tried and are still somehow trying to destroy me and my life. I can't even get them out of my head even today.