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

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

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

For me, my story entailed a male friend getting into my bed when i told him not to and forcing me to ‘cuddle’ with him, while he grabbed at me. He had been telling me all night how he missed his girlfriend, particularly her body & “that” part of their relationship. I felt horrible, i was uncomfortable and scared that he might do more. He didnt. But still even years later i feel uneasy when i think about it & how creepy he really was. He ignored me when i said no. He took away my autonomy that night. So dont feel like your story isnt worthy just because it “could have been worse”. Every experience is valid ❤️

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.