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Hello. I am a woman and a survivor of prolonged childhood rape by a very close relative. He was someone very loved by the rest of the family, someone who was "loving" with me, and that's why when everything came to light, almost no one believed me. I wasn't the only victim, and yet they still treat him as if he were untouchable. That scarred me deeply. Today I am a mother. I love my children deeply and I am very protective. But for some time now, I've been having intrusive thoughts that fill me with fear and disgust. They aren't desires; I don't want to hurt them, on the contrary: just thinking about it distresses me. It's harder with my daughters, even when bathing them, and that makes me question myself and feel guilty. I never crossed any boundaries, nor would I, but my mind sometimes attacks me with the "what if?" I would like to know if anyone else has experienced something similar: this fear of becoming what I suffered. Thank you for reading.

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.

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

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

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.

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.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

My abuse started when I was 4 years old. By a grandfather figure of mine. He was a family friend that my parents trusted and he slowly worked his way into our lives any way he could. He lived with several members of my family, include my for a while. He helped us financially. Came to all our birthday parties. There's a weird line of love and hate when I think about him. It's mostly hate, but I remember watching him in court on his conviction day and smiling a little. Not because he was being sent to prison for what he did to me, but because it felt natural too. He continuously sexually abused me, my sister, and several of my cousins for years. There was this constant aura of fear and numbness in our family. None of the adults knew, but all of us kids did. It was unspoken but we knew what was going on. If it was physical abuse, it was verbal or emotional. In the car, in the house, out in public. I don't remember most of my childhood because I was constantly disassociating. It's hard getting older and realizing how much of who I am in either because of the abuse or in spite of it. It was just so constant in my life that there's no way to separate him from everything else. There is no before and after the abuse. It just was. The abuse was my childhood even though my parents thought they were doing everything right. It's a shit show to deal with, but I guess that's why it's called Complex PTSD.

I am a child sexual abuse survivor living in Canada with an NDA for childhood sexual abuse for the past 28 years. When I sought to lift my NDA in 2018 after my abuser had died, the British Columbia court denied me and refused to lift the NDA. So, for the past seven years, I have been advocating both provincial and federal politicians in Canada to ban the misuse of NDAs for childhood sexual abuse survivors. With the passage of Trey's Law in both Texas and Missouri (and more states soon, I hope!), this will place pressure on the Canadian government and the provinces to pass similar legislation. I'm very heartened (and healed too!) by all of the survivors sharing their stories in the Missouri and Texas legislatures. All of this testimony is very important as evidence to prove the long-term extensive damage of an NDA on a childhood abuse victim for ensuing court cases. (This kind of evidence of long-term damage was missing in my BC court case; as a result, my application to lift the NDA was denied). We all need to keep speaking out to change the future for children. We might not be able to change the past, but we can certainly change the present and make the world safer for others. After a great deal of suffering for many years, I can see now that the suffering has had a meaning. As a result, I have become a stronger person. I am not thankful for the abuse, but it seems to me that a greater force in the universe is helping all victims to completely change the world right now. It is an unprecedented moment in human history and we all need to keep moving this incredible change forward. Thank you to Trey's Law and to all the survivors who have spoken in support of Trey's Law.

This happened when I was 16 years old and had just left a children's home and was returning to leave with my dad. On the first day back home, my dad came to pick me up from the children's home and we went back to his house and he showed me to my room and after unpacking my stuff,I said I was going to take a shower and I went to the bathroom to shower but realised my dad was peeking at me shower. I was afraid at the point of time and didn't know what to do and after rinsing off the soap and drying off I went to my bedroom to dress and my dad raped me and told me it's alright and that he loves me very much and alright. 3days later my dad invited 3 of his friends over for a drink and I said I was going to stay in my room and read. 2hours later,all 4 of the burst into my room and 2 of my dad's friends held me down while my dad and his the other friend started undressing me and my dad raped me while his friend put his penis in to my mouth and force me to perform oral sex on him. After what feels like forever,my dad and his friends exchanged places. I was blindfolded this time round by my dad's friend who initially was holding on to my hands. So I now don't know who was raping me and who is having a go in my mouth and one of the shoot in my mouth and forcing me to swallow his cum and they exchanged places again and when they were done,I was told to go clean up but I didn't,I just took a towel and my wallet and ran out the house and flag down a cab and went back to the children's home and when the staff there who opened the gate to let me in saw my in distraught called the police and I was taken to the hospital to be examined. 2 days later I was told that all 4 was caught.

It took me years to come to terms with what was really happening. When I was 9 years old, I met a boy online, and we quickly became friends. We knew everything about each other - He was 15 when we first met. When I was 10 and he was 16, he asked to be my boyfriend. Being a naive 10 year old girl I said yes. I can’t be mad at her for that. It was innocent at first. Just what you’d expect from a childhood relationship - “I love you, goodnight.” “Hope you’re doing okay.” “Let’s play some games together!” The only difference was that one of us were nearly an adult. Someone who should have known better to not even THINK about being romantically involved with a 10 year old girl. However, it went sour. He started talking to me about sexual subjects. Stuff I wasn’t at all familiar with. He’d make us roleplay situations, what he’d do to me if he got ahold of me in real life. Asking for photos. Guilt tripping me for seeming “off” or uninterested. I began to feel distressed at the time, but I was so young, that wasn’t really an emotion I had felt before. I told myself, this sick feeling must be love. That must be why I feel so nervous, why I feel knots in my stomach when I see his name pop up on my screen. I was very attached to him, at least I thought I was. I was always picked on in school and the few friends I had were awful to me, so he was my only real friend. My worst fear was somehow losing him, and he must have known that I thought that. He took advantage of that, and would guilt trip me at any opportunity to make sure I did whatever he wanted me to. After a while, he broke up with me, but we were still very much so “friends”. We would talk everyday, and he was still just as inappropriate and creepy with me as he was before. Throughout the years, he would begin to talk to me about worse and worse stuff. He explicitly told me about his attraction to children, and that he worked as a teaching assistant in a primary school. I tried to brush it off and keep it at the back of my mind, but I got to tipping point last year when he started to pressure me into meeting with him in real life. It went on for 7 years. I hate to say it, and it makes me sad for the little girl that I was, but the rest of my childhood was stolen from me. I’m 17 now, about the same age he was when we met. The thought of EVER saying the stuff to a 10,11,12 year old that he did makes me feel physically ill. I still haven’t fully processed what happened to me, but I’ve been working on it. I’m yet to cry, at least properly, about it. The thing that sucks about this is that this went on for so long, that it felt completely normal. The people in my life who know all cried when I told them. It felt unfair, really - that they could cry about it. And I’m just stuck in a mindset I’m desperately trying to get out of where this is normal, and I feel completely numb. Recently, I decided I wanted to do something about it. I went to the police. This night, I sent off old screenshots of conversations between us to a detective working on my case. It’s terrifying, being that vulnerable. But I feel obligated to do it. The thought of him being around children all day makes me sick. I don’t care if he doesn’t go to prison - as long as he’s never near a child again I’ll be happy. That’s why I’m doing it. I won’t let shame and embarrassment stop me from doing this, and I especially won’t let my brain tell me he doesn’t deserve punishment. Because that’s exactly what he’d want me to think, too.

I worked in a hospital kitchen as a food services assistant, I was 23 years old. My brother had died the year prior he was 24 years of age when he passed. I had so much grief inside whilst also trying to work and had just moved out of home. I was a lost women learning my way on my own. He was 28, he worked as the dishwashing man. I was instantly intimidated by him and his personality, his loud voice, and the jokes he would come up with, but also somehow extremely intrigued by him, and how he manages to charm everyone he works with, how he is so muscly, tanned, jet black hair and gives off so much confidence within himself, it was hard not to be charmed by him. Whilst washing the dishes he would ask questions out loud " anyone have wild sex on the weekend?". There was a time when I was standing close by to my supervisor (a woman in her 60's) and he came over and asked her if she would go to the movies with him. She laughed it off and told him to go back to work. I remember having lunch break with my female coworkers (They were such good friends of mine at the time) and they would tell me how he had showed them porn at the lockers. I remember them saying how they were uncomfortable but they moved subjects quickly and forgot about it. Not sure how long after but one of them came to me in the kitchen when I was working and she said that he had asked her what she thinks I'm like in bed, and asked her if she thinks id be the kinky type. When she came and told me he was not far away and I think he heard her telling me and he looked over to me, and I wanted to hide. When he left to go collect dishes with one of the girls he would say that if they aren't back soon then they are most likely having sex. He would always give me compliments, say he liked my hair, my nails, this love bombing I took like a hungry fish to bait. I remember one day just saying bye to him as I clocked out and he would just yell out I love you. When it was just me and him washing dishes, he would pretend to wank infront of me and then splashed the water everywhere. One of the older women in her 60's he would always be massaging her shoulders in the middle of the kitchen. (this confused me the most as he was 28.) He would walk past wet floor signs and say wow you must be horny. Nobody ever heard. He would stand at the door way and deliberately look the girl infront of me up and down, and then I knew I was next to walk past him. I even had one of the chefs saying to me, go have lunch with him and you'll be sucking him off in the next 5 minutes. I didn't have that one big moment of omg that was inappropriate he must be trying to harass me, it was a slow feed of inappropriate things being delivered to me like a line of IV fluids in the form of sexual harassment (indirectly and directly). At the time I didn't even realise what was happening to me, I loved the compliments and attention he gave me, because I looked up to him because he was so confident, charming and loud. But I was also so scared of him, He had degraded me and made me feel so uncomfortable with his comments, he had me and my 3 work friends on Facebook and he would send so much porn through messenger and making jokes about the other girls at work regarding porn. I felt embarrassed and humiliated for them. One of my good friends, she use to get him to drive her home, and she said they were making sexual jokes to each other and when she went to get out of the car he pulled her back in, she said she just laughed it off but when she got home she messaged us and told us because she was scared. Later on she would say nobody go in the freezer with him unless you want to be molested. then she walked over to me and told me that he had made jokes about her nipples when she was in there. I still remember the moment that I was like what the hell just happened, I was pushing the dishes on a trolley, when the trolley stopped working and he walked right up behind me as close as he could, and said come on you can do it. I literally panicked and just tried my best to get the trolley going. Once I walked around the corner I had to stop and get my breath. And my mind had shut off from that moment. From that moment I realised my boundaries did not exist. I was being intimidated, humiliated, embarrassed, degraded slowly overtime that I did not even realise it was happening to me until it was too late. Id been manipulated and persuaded to give in, I flirted with him. And before I knew it I was making out with him in his car. Completely scared out of my mind that I couldn't even think whilst it was happening. I remember wanting so badly to show him that I wasn't scared of him. But I was. I was terrified, of what he thought of me, being so unsure of him and his personality, not knowing if he was a good or bad guy. I was an absolute mess after being with him, I felt sick, I didn't eat for weeks. I didn't tell my work friends what I had done, everyday I was going to work and facing him, staring at me, feeling judged and humiliated for giving in and being with him. I wanted to feel okay again, and somehow I was in this toxic cycle of telling myself if I can get him to be nice to me everything will be okay, I asked him to talk one day at lunch, he agreed. I met him in his car and I said to him I just wanted to say sorry for how things have turned out between us. and he said so your wanting to do this again? I said that I was unsure. And then we ended up making out again. Every time it happened, the days after I would be in this faded daze, I couldn't think, I was mentally ill for a while afterwards. The going to work, feeling humiliated, degraded, and like I meant nothing. There were days id beg him to talk to me and explain why it happened, and he would say, I don't know why it happened it just did. I couldn't think for myself, I was relying on him for everything, my thinking, my worth, my reality, which he told me was that I had major issues, was awkward and obsessed with him. For months after I would vomit before going to work, couldn't eat and I was close to a breakdown, the days I went to work with him I looked at the ground, watched him flirting with other girls in the kitchen, and saw him disregard me like rubbish. Tonight I write this, its 4 years on and I have come so far, I still think of this man everyday, and the one thing that I struggle to get closure with, is trying to explain to people how mental manipulation mixed with sexual harassment is one of the hardest things ever to explain in therapy and counselling, I've had days where I've blamed myself still, and told myself that it was my fault and that I agreed to go along with it, I wanted him so badly, I ended up begging my abuser to be with me. I wonder how I ended up being the one wanting him when he was the one harassing me. I've literally had to relearn how to love myself after doing that to myself. I'm still learning after all these years. It takes so much time and effort. But I really hope that one day I will move on. I've said outload to myself that I forgive him, but somedays its really hard. I never got closure from him. And I still doubt myself whether I was sexually harassed. I remember calling him on the phone and he would say everyone knows I'm joking otherwise I would be done for sexual harassment by now. I want to stop doubting myself, I've always known wrong from right. But this man took this from me. And I've struggled in life ever since. I know I need to forgive him. I know what happened did happen. I know my panic attacks were telling me something was wrong. I know that he is a hurt person for doing this to others. God please heal my heart.

I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

I was sexually abused by my father when I was 8 years old. Once I got a bit older I realized the damage that it was bringing to my life. At 15 I finally told my mom what my own father did to me. In my early 30s I began going to church faithfully and that’s when I finally forgave him. Fast forward to when I turned 35 I received a phone call that my dad had been arrested for something similar. And currently at the moment I am fighting for justice once more. Hoping that finally this can be put in the past.

I was so shocked. Being a single parent my career and professionalism means everything - including basic financial survival. I work for a small male dominated company. Part of my compensation includes a house on the property. I offered one of the rooms as a temporary conference room - 5 years later I had a growing side business and communicated with the appropriate 30 day notice that at the end of the year I would like to take this space in my home back. That set the owner off. He is emotionally unbalanced but I had no idea he would isolate me - came into the office barking for everyone to leave, he wanted to talk to me. Then he cornered me and after what seemed like very rehearsed rantings he talked about he and his wife’s $10k hobbies and in the same breath leaned forward leering and said “I bet your afraid some man is going to lock you in your basement and rape your ass”. I was speechless, and breathless - thinking he is having knee replacement surgery - if he moved closer I could kick that knee . . When he was done ranting at me - he wanted a hug. I was so throughly disgusted - but afraid - so with tears down my face gave him a hug - I just wanted it to end, for him to leave . . I had my first panic attack as soon as he left, I had my next one the next day. A week later I had stroke level HBP - and made sure to document this with my physician. When I finally told someone, I had such a physical reaction I was admitted to the CCU - Cardiac Care Unit for a few days. While I have not had a similar encounter since, I do have pepper spray and a knife in 6 places in and around where I work and live.

A Memory That Replays Everytime She Closes Her Eyes To my reader: I wrote this in a way that is a little different and hopefully not too hard to follow. Not that I have words to explain this experience, the feeling, but this is the best I could do. 97%. What’s the first thing that came to your mind? Hang onto that thought. You always hear those horror stories; the horror stories that get tossed around small towns that then pour into the next. Horror stories that people talk about so freely because “it won’t happen to me”. “Teenage girl gets followed, kidnapped, and raped.” reads every occasional newspaper, subtitle to politics, of course, that is, if it gets reported. Subtitled, belittled, and forgotten a week after the occurrence. Those horror stories that no one thinks too hard about, just some event that happened that’s now in the past. These are the types of horror stories that do the most damage. She winces every time she closes her eyes, hoping that maybe if she closes her eyes hard enough, it would all go away. Date. She is surrounded by familiar faces, those who she thought would never hurt her. She began to feel it, a sense of release and comfort, but not enough to disrupt her awareness. She loved nights like these, ones where she could let loose with those that told her they loved her, a place of tranquility and laughter. “Another one come onnn...”, she hears as her knees begin to collapse. It burns now, remembering when it used to glide down her throat and smelt of apples and oranges from a paper box small enough to fill her hands. She’s not who she used to be, but not necessarily in a bad way. She is older now, but sometimes being old enough is taken for granted. She’s naive, in a daze that seems to be utopic, a daze that she insisted could never be broken. Little did she know; little was she aware of the abrupt endeavor her identity will soon battle subconsciously. She feels familiar muscular arms firmly around her ribs and beneath her legs as her weight seems to increase. Similar to how her dad used to carry her out of the car, fake sleeping, after a long drive home. This time it was different, it didn’t have the same feeling; not the same love. All she wanted was to be still. There are faint voices echoing; she's awake enough to sense its urgency and concern, but unable to make out what was said. Their voices get louder and louder until his voice echoes once more in his chest against her ear and everything goes quiet. In and out every few minutes as her head dangles, weighing in at what seemed to be more than 5 tons. “You’re okay”, she kept repeating to herself in her low-functioning mind. At once, she slips through his fingertips and crashes against the sheets. She waits for the familiar back rub as her dad tucks her hair behind her ears with a gentle kiss goodnight. It just never came. She’s okay, she can finally rest, right? “I’m safe”, her subconscious mind repeats nonstop, trying to calm herself down. She just wanted to be still. It’s not like she didn’t know him, best friends is a better way to put it. Does that justify it? The pressure of hands cut off the circulation in her wrists as she catches a glimpse of a silhouette towering over her. Why were they his hands? Her inability to stay conscious only gets worse and worse and soon she winces and her vision disappears. “I'm so tired, bed, no.”, were the only words that were able to slip out. She remembers this part, the only part her body and mind could allow her to remember. Little did she know how important this was. Her subconscious self knows she is in trouble, with no power, no strength, no defense, just dead weight. Helpless and unaware. There's so much pain, excruciating pain pulsing between her hips. She waits to open her eyes despite her full consciousness after the remaining few hours of the night. Her flesh rubs together, she’s never been so cold. Trying so hard to process each clue, there's just so much pain. Her bare body, the body that doesn't feel her own anymore, throbs as her eyes race around the room, jumping from object to object. She lays still, her eyes wandering with an occasional wince in pain. Her back aches as she finally turns over to the guest room nightstand and - her heartbeat plummets to her stomach, she's empty. She feels SO empty, as if half her soul was sucked out with a single hard breath. It’s used. She’s seen those before, but never in person, so close to her. She knows, but there are no words. She wants to scream, but nothing comes out. She’s so alone and falls deep within denial. Her eyes well up and a tear, withholding her identity, her love, her hope, her happiness; her trust trickles down her face from the edge of her eye to the base of her collarbone. She never knew she could lose so much in just a matter of minutes. How can this happen? She slowly rolls back over, staring blankly at one spot on the ceiling, begging and pleading for answers, yet no one is there to give her the answer she deserves. Her heart began to beat through her chest, pulsing in and out of her ears and behind her eyes. It happened to her. Searching for her clothes, strewn all over the floor and buried underneath the sheets that sat on the floor at the foot of the mattress, she scrambles for them. The pain just grows stronger; doubled over as she crawls to the bathroom door. Bruises coat her legs and silence and desperation fills the air. Did he even realize the damage? Did she say, "no", loud enough? Was it her fault she couldn't verbalize her "no" clearly enough? He knew; there’s no way he didn’t know. Sometimes, it takes a few days. A few days, a few weeks; a few months to fully grasp what happened, to trust herself, to trust him. Living in and out of her own body, not knowing when it's truly her or what is now left of her. Every once in a while her ears go out, ringing as she stares into thin air, dissociating and remembering each and every detail without speaking a word. Sometimes it only takes a smell, a name, a piece of clothing, a sound to take you back to these moments. It doesn't take much to remind the brain of the agony. It’s hard. She fades throughout each day, each night, as each aspect of the memory replays every time she takes a second to think. The really difficult part is the fact that she knew him, someone that knew so much about her and promised to be there for her whenever she needed. Someone who made her laugh, someone who always put her first, someone she was comfortable with. Maybe people change, but maybe people show their true colors in ways most can’t comprehend. Now that is the scary part. She really thought she knew him. She mentally collapses at the sight of him, the idea of him. He tried. He tried for months to get her attention back, but how was she supposed to know his intentions, his real intentions? To her, having any form of connection with this person was inimaginable. How was she supposed to trust him? He’s a different person in the eyes of this girl. Once a bubbly, outgoing, confident girl, quickly and abruptly became a stranger to her own mind, her own body; her own life. She doesn’t want this to last forever. It’s crazy to think that people dismiss these stories, no matter the severity. 97%. 97% of the female population have experienced something of this nature. These horror stories haunt the public for a little while until something else intrigues their hungry minds. Haunt is really a generous word. What else can they talk about? What else can they fake sympathy for in an attempt to prove some sort of concern? And just like that, word spread, judgment, and disbelief. "There's no way", trust me, that's what she thought too. Sometimes the truth is too much for people; they would rather take the easy way out and not be "associated" rather than taking the time to truly understand her concern. His deceptive reputation was enough to get him by and enough for people to dismiss her so easily. She's now learning, healing and one year later and she still can't get through a full 24 hours without thinking about Date. Hopefully, one day she can. Hopefully one day her younger self can recover and grieve the temporary abrupt loss of her identity. She now looks for those who will tuck her hair behind her ear, pick her up when she’s tired, rub her back and kiss her goodnight no matter the relationship. Friend or partner, she doesn’t want this ache anymore.

I was just 3 years old when it started, my mom walked in on my older brother telling me to get undressed to play the love doctor game. He is my half brother so we had different moms. My mom told my dad to keep his son away from me. Unfortunately it continued for 11 more years. He would hold me down, cover my mouth and touch me or rub up against me. He would wake me up in the middle of the night by touching me. He would even do it when my dad was in the same room asleep but I couldn’t move, I was frozen. I fought everything at first but he was bigger than me and stronger than me so I soon learned that I was powerless. I would lay there crying and then I eventually went numb and would derealize. One time, I was wearing a bathing suit and my brother proceeded to tell me that I put it on to tease him. After that I hated wearing bathing suits. We went on a family vacation with my whole family, we were in the lake, and he started touching me in the lake, I couldn’t do anything but freeze. Those are just a few times it occurred given it was almost every day. He did it in front of my little cousin who then thought it was okay to grab my butt and try and kiss me. I came out about my abuse my sophomore year of High school, so about 2 years ago. I spiraled very fast starting high school, I began drinking a lot and getting into drugs to cope. One night, I was at a party and I got extremely drunk and high and was passed out, my ex bf dragged me into this supply closet and raped me. Everyone called me a whore for it and blamed me. I then went on a date with a guy later that year, for Valentine’s Day, he asked me to give him oral, I said no, multiple times, then he forced me, I cried the whole time, and still to this day he sees nothing wrong with it. I was told I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I am still forced to be around all of these people and struggle with my mental health. I have PTSD, Anxiety, and depression, and they have no consequences for their actions only I do.

The summer before fifth grade, me and my brothers decided to have a sleepover in the living room. I always had the hardest time falling asleep, so I was the last one up. Or at least I thought I was. My oldest brother, who is 15 months older, came and sat by my feet. He somehow brought up his genitals, I honestly don’t remember the conversation, I just remember being uncomfortable. Then, he pulled down his pants and started touching himself. He then started touching my genitals too. I didn’t know what to do. So I just sat there. I still don’t know why. Everyday I wish I had just slept in my bed that night. Afterwards, he went back to his spot on the ground and fell asleep. I walked back to my room after he fell asleep and cried all night. I was so disgusted with myself. I felt so dirty. I couldn’t get myself to tell my mom and dad though. I stayed up all night waiting for the confidence that never came. For about a year after, this continued and progressed. I’ve never spoken about this to anybody. I don’t think anybody knows but me and him. I will never tell my parents.

My name in Name. Im a trans-man. This story happened she u was 13-14. I was forced to love my home country due to political repressions. So when we came to the city, I was completely alone. I didn’t know anyone and my family always have been abusive. Violence, alcohol, all that. And then I met her. She was four years older than me, in the last class. I don’t know what she found in me. I mean in a year, I would find out. So by the end of school year we became friends. So close, like I never had before. She was kind, understanding and generally nice to me. I never had this before. Next school year she went to college, but our connection only became stronger. She started saying things like “you are the most important to me” and even “I love you”. The first alarm bell was when I found out she was doing drugs. She casually mentioned it in a conversation. Something inside me screamed to stop it. But her “I love you” had me in a chokehold. I would do anything for her. I also knew she liked a guy, and I was practically the second option. Maybe that was the second alarm. In February we went to a concert. In the bathroom her and her friends started taking pills. “You want?” They asked. “Sure” I said. Didn’t even know what that was. Soon I started doing drugs too. She basically was my dealer, she had even more control over me.We would come to her room have these gatherings, where we did drugs, smoked and talked about nothing. What was supposed to be us together was one big loneliness. I hated that, I kept coming, just to see her. My parents didn’t even ask where I was spending nights. So one time after her friends left she sat close to me. That night from us two only I was high. She started kissing me, like she did before. But then she runs her hand across my chest and under my shirt. I got scared, I didn’t want anything like this. “Please don’t” I told her softly. She told me that it’s okay, and “you’re gonna like that”. After a few phrases I submitted. I hated the process, I hated myself in it. But now her. I said it, because I wanted to be liked my her. Next morning I was scraping myself in the shower, but I couldn’t feel clean. I felt her touch. Still do sometimes. A week after that happened she started ignoring me. Just became I ghost. Left me addicted not only to drugs, but also to her. I often feel, like it was my fault. I could’ve not done drugs, and not submitted to her.

I was only 16 years old. I was dating someone for 4 months, when all of a sudden he woke up one day, and had different feelings towards me. Little did I know, he video taped us having sex, without me knowing. I found out weeks after, that he sent it to his whole sports team, and parents. The cops took my phone and erased everything off mine but not the video off his. I am now 18 years old, and I just got out of a very emotional abusive relationship. Trauma affected me so much from my past, and I have never been worse than these last couple months. I did choose to leave the abusive relationship, but everyday is so hard. Living with that trauma, and not knowing what to do or how to live with it. Feeling likes it’s affecting my future relationships. With my anxiety it just keeps getting worse and worse each day.