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This is not really a story, but I wrote a letter to my rapist which I will never send. I don’t want to keep it in, not be alone with it. I want somebody to hear me even though it’s not him that will listen. I don’t know how I can miss and hate you so much, while still having so much love for you. You did the worst possible thing a best friend could do. You used the trust I had in you to benefit yourself and ignored my feelings along the way. I have so much love for you and I can’t show it, because you don’t deserve my love. You said you cared about me, then why didn’t you stop when I said no? How did you think I was just playing when I pushed you away, kept saying no and “I can’t”. I don’t understand how you played that role so well, everyone fell for it. Your actions never matched your words. When I told you I was raped and I don’t want to sleep with you, you said that’s okay, you’ll wait. The next thing I know, you come into the bathroom and ask me if I want to fuck. You said you never wanted to make me feel uncomfortable, yet when i clearly was, you didn’t give a fuck. You literally said “I know you can’t, but I’ll keep trying until you say yes.” Wtf man. I trusted you. I believed you when you told me you knew what I was feeling. It must be the truth, right? You were so sure about my feelings, that I started to believe they were real. When I realized that maybe I didn’t have those feelings and told you, you asked me how I could do something like that. Break your heart, lie to your face, that I’m a psychopath for playing with your feelings like that. And once again you talked me into what you wanted. I didn’t want to loose you, so I thought if this is what it takes to keep you in my life, I’ll try. But you kept pushing. You raped me. I know you don’t see it that way. I did play along. I made you believe I enjoyed it but all I could think about during it was, please just cum. In my core I knew I didn’t want this but it made you happy, so I played along. You ignored all the signs I gave you that I feel uncomfortable. I never kissed you first, I never initiated anything, I always said I can’t and no. You purposefully ignored it. You’re not that dumb. You can’t say you’re a good person. You think you are, but you’re most definitely not. I don’t know how a person can be so blind to who they really are. Maybe you’re not? Maybe you knew exactly what you were doing. I like to think that the real you was the person I trusted with my life, the person I ran to when I needed comfort, you were my safe place. But I know that’s not you. You’re the person that manipulated me into a “relationship” with you. You’re the person that raped me, followed me and made me have panic attacks. Even when I was trying to hide from you, you found a way to get to me and make me feel horrible. You deserve an explanation for why I stopped talking to you? That’s what you repeated endlessly. I tried to give you one, you started laughing. At that point I saw the real you. The manipulative you. The you that doesn’t want to hear anything except what you believe to be true. You don’t really want an explanation, you want to get an opportunity to manipulate me again. You’re the victim in your own story. I broke your heart. I hurt your feelings. But you know what, you took something from me that I’ll never get back. You made me feel horrible. Like I was wrong for not wanting to sleep with you. You made me doubt myself. Everytime you raped me you took a piece of my heart and I don’t know if I’ll ever get that back. I told you everything, sometimes I felt like you knew me better than I know myself. You made me feel excited about my future. You gave me so much hope about being able to choose my own path. I loved you. I loved the way you made me feel. Safe. Seen. Full of potential. Happy. Now I look at you and my chest starts to tighten, my heart beats faster, I want to run, get away from where ever you are. You made me feel fear when I saw you. Fear. And you knew that, you knew I didn’t want to see you and still you came over whenever there was a chance. Every time I saw you, I could feel all the love I still had for you. It hurt so much, that I can love a person this much and fear them at the same time. My mind can’t comprehend what you did. It was so out of character. The more I thought about it, the more it wasn’t though. You gave me hints to the person you really are and I just ignored them, thought they weren’t that important. Thank you for teaching me to never overlook and fall for that again. I was always told I am really grown up for my age. I never wanted to be, I just had to. Growing up I was the only person I could depend on. I learned to deal with stuff myself. But this, this didn’t make me stronger, this didn’t make me wiser. This shattered my world. I have to learn to trust people again. That has always been a big issue for me, but I got it under control. Now, I isolate myself. I have so much anxiety that I just can’t handle it. You gave me that anxiety. I hope I’ll be okay someday, I know I need to work hard for it. I know you’ll be okay in a week. You’re gonna tell people I’m a crazy bitch who broke your heart and you did nothing wrong. That’s what happened with M. You know he didn’t even ask me what happened or if I was okay. He just told me that it’s my job to go and check on you, because I broke your heart. I knew he was your best friend but I thought I was his friend as well. You probably felt good about the fact that he hurt me so much with that Facebook message. And how he hurt me, I can’t even put into words the betrayal I felt. I know that has nothing to do with you, but I just needed to let you know. I wish I could talk to you, I wish I could hug you, I wish you were the person I thought you were. I know that’s not possible and that’s okay. I will grief and I will miss you. I don’t know if that will ever stop, I hope it does. I just want you back, it’s like you died. You did die. The version of you I had in my head, my safe place, my best friend is dead. And I don’t know how to grief a person that is still alive. You’re still here and I know I could just call you or send you a message but that’s not the person I want to talk to. I want to go back in time and I want you to just accept my no. Why didn’t you accept my no??? I hate that I still love you this much. I love you so much. I can deal with the rape, I’m strong enough to not let that affect my worth. What I can’t deal with is that you were the one that raped me. You. Why did it have to be you?

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

I really want to tell anybody my story to be better than me my story start when I love my casein he really pretty and hot I love him for 5 years and it was the best 5 years I never tell him that I love him but he always makes me feel that he have the same feeling by doing moves but he really selfish and he proud at himself a lot I don't know why and he sometimes is really rude and star tells me that am ugly fat and you not pretty you like men but I wasn't ugly but when you love anybody you understand them and try to not make problems with them and one day he was really jealous of my guy best friend and start to tell me his not good don't talk with him and I try to know why he tells me that I want him to tell me that he is jealous so after one day he said that am used girl and I be really sad but now I try to forget him and love my self cause he let me hate my self so I need to tell you don't let anybody make you feel sad and uncomfortable with your self just be your self and people opinion it is just an opinion not true . I hope you get advantages from my story.

my brother SA'd me multiple times. he never raped me, though. he once forced me to kiss him on the mouth as a "game" of some sorts. he would also smack my ass, call me a slut, and shame me for everything. before he got on medication, he would beat me up. he's on medication now, but he's still terrible. he got mad at me and said he would gangrape me. he never did, but it was still scary. i hate him, and he says i'm a bad person for hating him. he also denied ever SAing me. sometimes i feel like i'm delusional or something. i don't know, i'm just tired of living with him. i can't wait for him to move out.

I was 18. In college I was part of a ladies team on in college sports team. There were also male teams. There was a inter college tournament that our college was hosting for other male college teams within Ireland. We all had nights out planned and a 'play hard, play hard' attitude. It was great to be part of something - I genuinely loved playing and being part of the club. On one of the nights I was drinking and got to talking with a guy from another college mens team. It was fun and we ended up back at his hotel room, where we had consensual sex. After, I remember feeling groggy and then being suddenly awoken to all these lads barging in. They ripped the bed cover off us and I remember phone flashes going off. It was year so, not exactly amazing phones back them. Slagging of various types ensued but then I remember being held down. At least 2 different men. I remember saying no, please stop. Flashes in and out while I just stared at the corner of the bedside table, thinking how similar it was to the one in my parents room. Weird. I must have slept at some point because I woke up. I got dressed. I remembered nothing. Nothing but the sex with the lad I kissed. Naturally, the next morning is always awkward so I wanted to get out of there. Just as the hotel room door clicked shut I realised I had left my shoes. I knocked back and had to do so loudly as everyone was deep asleep. As I was doing that one of the other team members opened a door across the hall, he stared at me. I said sorry for waking him but I needed my shoes. He just said he was so sorry. I was confused, having no memory of what he was actually talking about, so I said I'm sorry I left my shoes. Eventually someone opened the door and I got my shoes. Leaving the hotel and walking to the nearest bus stop, I felt appropriately hung over but sore. Down there. I'd never been sore before. Guess we must have really gone for it, I thought. Fast forward to lockdown 3 during Covid, I began experiencing severe nightmares that weren't nightmares. The missing memories came back over 2/3 months and I realised that I had been rated multiple times. That my brain had protected me until now. My SA, unknowingly, had a huge impact on my formative years - I came out as bisexual just 2 years ago. I feel I would have had a very different 20's but I met a decent guy, stuck with him like glue and am now married with a child. Due to the memory block, I have no recourse. No sense of justice so I just hope those boys, now grown men, are better than they were.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

I had an aunt who had a son here in America. We were pretty close since our families only had each other here so we would go over to their house often. I was around 5 so he was like 7 or 8. We would play around the house while our parents talked and I remember us being in his parents room playing with some dinosaur figures one day when he closed the door and told me to go into the closet with him. I did and he shut the closet doors and started to tell me to do weird things like licking his hands and he would touch my privates. I cant remember exactly what else happened that day but I remember knowing it was wrong but I couldn't bring myself to tell my mom because I had done the things he told me to do. To be honest, I had forgotten everything until I went to Mexico for the first time and when I saw him, I suddenly remembered this day. I hate that I cant remember everything that happened and if it had happened more than once on separate occasions. I also hate that I'm scared of him and I don't know if he remembers. I haven't seen him since that day but it didn't seem like he felt awkward around me. I resent him so much because I have become hyper sexual but I feel sad because I wonder how he even knew this stuff. Was someone doing these things to him? I have only told my ex best friend and current best friend... I want to tell my mom, I know she will believe me, but I feel like it's already been so long that it won't change anything. I am now 19 and don't want to start any family drama. What should I do?

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.

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

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

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

I saw the movie tonight with my little sister. We grew up together in an abusive home, everything that Lily’s father did to her mom, our father did to ours (and even worse). He sometimes did those things to us too. From the fact that he’s still portrayed as a beloved father to many, I found consolation in the movie tonight. I realised that I’m not that child anymore, I’m safe now and most importantly, I can stop swimming now. And you also, my little sister, we can both stop swimming now. I love you.

I always struggled with my words even before that night happened. Using alcohol as a mechanism to survive in social spaces I never belonged. Maybe that’s how he picked me out he saw his victim: lost, voiceless and out of control. After that night, I felt the loneliest and most out of place I’ve ever felt. That girl was lost, she felt out of control, she felt voiceless. Now, nearly 10 years later. I have found my voice. I am not a victim but I’m a survivor. I speak for women whose voices are lost too, so one day they will have the courage to find them and speak up too. You are never alone and anytime you use your voice I promise you, you’ll be heard. We are women, we are powerful!

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

I was four years old. I was lead into the woods by him. I still remember it was fall. The leaves crunched beneath my feet as we walked. The woods seemed to hush themselves to silence as we stopped by an old rusted out car. I was four years old. He told me to put his penis in my mouth. I was four years old. I trusted him. I still remember the taste. That putrid taste. That is all I can recall. Confusion and shame would follow me every day. Not a day goes by I do not think about it. I was 4 years old. I do not remember if it only happened one time or multiple times. My mind shut a lot of it out. I try to remember and all that surfaces is pain. Pieces of a puzzle I try to solve with many of the pieces missing . I was four years old.

I was 26 when I realized that my first time was sexual assault. I was only 17. It was not violent and I never said “no,” but I never said “yes,” or expressed true interest in having sex. I froze. I let it happen. I was scared. I did not know that I could stop it. I thought, “Well, I’m already nude, I guess that means I cannot take this back.” I could not even look at him or move. I was frozen in fear. I was in his bedroom, in his parent’s house. We had only started talking because I found a message he had sent after he graduated. I guess he never got over me, as I never did with him. He was after all my first boyfriend. However, when I found out he cheated, I broke it off immediately, knowing I deserved better. I still feel proud that my younger self recognized this then. However, why did I decide to go back? How did that lead to this? We met up a couple times after, but I never went back into that bedroom after that. I cut it off when I “jumped” into another relationship. I still remember the last text message he sent me, “I know you’ll be a great gf.” Ugh, gross, I thought to myself. He realizes this now! How infuriating! Looking back, I always felt weird about that encounter, but I never told ANYONE. Not even my closest friends. I felt weird about it all through my early 20’s. Even when I got into my committed relationship with my now husband. I continued to have flashbacks… and still I told no one. My husband knows this now, but I waited close to a year when I began dating him before we had sex because I was afraid that would happen again. Eventually, I told him why I decided to wait and he was very understanding and supportive of my feelings. All this time, I never knew what I experienced was sexual assault until I began to grow an interest in the subject as an adult in my very adult job. I work in a college campus setting, and with my growing interest in this topic, I began to do research and read books and articles, trying to really understand this. Until one day, one of our students came into my office asking to speak with me. I honestly thought they wanted to quit, so I was preparing myself to have a talk with them. Then they say the words, “I was sexually assaulted.” My heart immediately dropped. They explained what happened and it began to sound all too familiar. They described being frozen in fear and feeling like they could not say no or do anything to stop it. Oh my gosh, I thought. This is what happened to me! If it were not for my student confiding in me for help in their situation, I would have never made that realization nine years later. I was emotionally coerced into sex. I was vulnerable. I was sexually assaulted at 17, and much as I wish, I could go back to change that, I know it has only made me stronger in my ability to help others.

I was 18 when it happened. I was at the local mall with a few friends, celebrating our high school graduation. We had went into the Disney Store. I can still hear my one friend going "grab her." the laughter while they grabbed me. i was unable to get away as two of them hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. i can still feel my one friend's arms around me. their lips on my face. i was frozen in shock and awkwardly laughed it off. needless to say, those girls did not stay my friends for long after that. one of their graduation parties was the last time we were together. after that, they invited me out freshman year of college. I denied and never spoke to any of them again. After it happened, i told my mom. she did nothing. the only person who kind of took me seriously was my best friend at the time (whole other ball of yarn happened with her). it took 6 years. 6 years for someone to tell me that what I'd experienced was harassment. that my feelings at the time were valid. PS: that store is now closed. I sometimes wish I would've gone in one last time. But maybe it's a good thing that the store is gone, symbolic in a sense.

The Smoke and the Shield I grew up in a house where the air was always thick with the sweet, chemical stench of the meth pipe. My mother, stepfather, aunts, and uncles weren't just parents; they were soldiers in a war that didn't exist, and paranoia was our oxygen. I learned early that survival meant playing along with their ghosts, agreeing that I heard helicopters that weren't there just to avoid the jagged rants that followed if I didn't. I spent my childhood secretly praying for the police to raid us, not because I understood crime, but because I was desperate for someone to save me. But the sirens never came. Instead, I lived in the crossfire of meth-induced rage. I was accused of imaginary crimes born in their frantic minds, belittled until I felt invisible, and beaten until the fat lips became my only excuse to miss school. Neglect was my first language; I walked into classrooms smelling of that house while other children whispered about cooties and pulled away. My mother was so consumed by the pipe that she never taught me how to say no, leaving me defenseless when the betrayal turned predatory. At twelve, she served me meth in my coffee, trapping me in a nightmare of hallucinations. By thirteen, my protectors became my traffickers, selling my body under the guise of babysitting to a man twice my age. They groomed me to believe violation was normal, using pornography to distort my world before I even knew what a healthy life looked like. Eventually, something inside me snapped. I tried to drown the pain in alcohol and self-mutilation, attempting to leave this world numerous times because a life defined by their cruelty didn't feel like living. Even when hospitalized, the rule of silence followed me; I was too terrified to betray the family that had already discarded me. When child services finally intervened, my parents cheated the drug tests to keep the pipe lit, and rather than choosing me over the drug, my mother abandoned me to the system. I was angry, alone, and exhausted, but in the hollow quiet of foster care, I realized the only hand coming to save me was my own. I clawed my way out, fighting for my GED and stepping into a career that demanded the discipline and strength I had been forced to develop as a child. I made a silent vow to never become the monsters who raised me, but the trauma of my youth had broken my internal radar. I backslid into an abusive marriage that forced me to relive the nightmare I thought I had escaped. My husband tried to kill me twice, and when that didn’t work, he shifted to breaking me down mentally. He told me to kill myself because he didn’t want to do the dirty work of killing me himself. I became so broken that I almost succeeded, but after a medical crisis that should have been the end, I was told I was lucky to be alive. That was the moment the world shifted. I realized my life had value, and I took my kids and left him for good. Today, my life is dedicated to being the sanctuary I never had. I am raising my children in a home defined by stability and real love, not the chemical shadows or the violence of my past. I am sober, I am awake, and I am present for every moment they need me. I am constantly exhausted from the weight of the past and the effort of standing guard, but it is a fight worth fighting. The cycle is broken, and for the first time, my children are growing up in a house that is truly, deeply safe.

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