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Isis EgyptSigned on: Sun 12 Feb 2006 05:15:54 EST
When I was around 6 or 7 years old. I was riding my bike down a hill by my house. When I was walking up the hill with my bike to ride down it again I saw this boy he was a teenager and I thought he was cute. Now being 7 years old I always saw my sister who was 12 start liking boys and stuff and she was popular so I though maybe I would be liked around my neighborhood like my sister if.... it's still kind of fuzzy. I'm not a hundred percent sure why I did what I did next. Maybe it was because my sister was popular and I wanted to be like her. Or if I want attentions. or what. I do know that I started walking up the hill next to him swaying my hips like I saw grown ups do in the movies. I got to the top of the hill and rode down again. As I rode down I looked at him and he smiled at me. Now the whole time he was walking up or down the hill I'm not sure. I remember stopping my bike alittle short of the end so I could walk past him again. When I got off and started walking back up the hill that when he told me to come to him. He was standing in the parking lot of some blue houses on the hill. The lot was at the bottom of the hill. The hill I was riding up and down on is a street. So he told me to come to him with his finger. I remember him saying something like "Come here. I got some candy" when I said "what." I'm not totally sure. It was so long ago. Anyway I walked to him slowly with my bike. I guess some warning bells should have went off in my head, but I didn't hear them. I don't remember what was going on in my mind. The rest gets really unclear. The next thing I know he's behind be telling me not to scream. I think he had a knife to my throat. I'm not sure. I'm trying so hard to remember. After that I believe I kicked him or somehow he loosened his grip on me. But I remember clearly peddling my bike like crazy down the street. I had to get away from him. My mind just kept saying "go, go, run, faster?". I don't know how I got free. The most vivid thing in my mind was circling the block to back track to my house that was at the top of the hill. I was crying I think. I remember having to get off my bike at the end of my street to my house because I could peddle hard enough because I was chubby. I ran up the hill with my bike. And when I got to the top across the street from the hill I remember looking and hoping he didn't come up the hill and come after him. I got back on my bike and rode into the big parking lot in front of my apartment building. I rode up to the steps and dropped my bike in the front and ran into the hall and up the stairs of my house I ran inside and my mom came out and saw my crying. She hugged me and kept saying "what happened, what happened." The only thing I kept saying over and over again was "rape, rape." The next thing know the police were there. What happened between the time I told my mom what happened and when the police got there is choppy. Somehow some boy told us were the boy who did it to me lived. I don't know how he came into it, but I remember he said the boy's name and that he knew were he lived. I don't know how he got into it but, I remember me my mother and the two cops following the boy to the other complex behind mine. We found were he lived and the police knocked on the door of the apartment. I remember a woman. the boys mother answering the door in a night gown. There was steam in the house and cloths hung up. Like she was washing clothes. When the police told her what happened she started crying and saying her son had done it before and the last time he tried to rape a female cop and she almost killed him. After that I went home. A woman came by a few days or a week I'm not sure to ask some questions I think. She mostly spoke to my mom. I don't remember if he raped me or not. My mind has surpressed much of what happened I guess. Maybe he did, but I don't think so. I was never taken to the hospital or anything like that so I think I got away in time. I believe I scared him because I screamed I think.  
Its been about 8 years since that happened. I'm 15 now. The reason I had this urge to write about this and try to remember what happened is because I just watched this movie called "The Accused" with Jodie Foster. Its about a woman who was gang raped. After it I just had this urge to tell my story. I hope that anyone who is raped will tell someone. And take that sick pervert to court and put them away. It takes alot of damn courage to do that. But it must be done because if you don't tell, he or she might go on raping other people. I don't know what became of the teenager who tried to rape me, but I hope he never touched or will touch another woman again. I don't hate him or am angry at him. I just hope he his somewhere that can help him or is somewhere that keeps him away form the general population. He is a walking threat to every woman. Please tell your story to the cops and help them put that monster away. Every person depends on you because if you keep silent they will do it again. And who knows if that next person will survive.
whyangelsfalllSigned on: Sun 12 Feb 2006 05:14:56 EST
I have the sudden urging to forward this to everyone at SHARPP and SASS (Sexual Harassment and Rape Prevention Program (a University program) and Sexual Assault Support Services (a local program)) as well as several other associations….  
My entire high school life people always called me a whore: My mother, my “friends” my teachers (albeit not openly), and my fellow classmates. After enough time, you start to believe it.  
I wasn’t very popular in school, which I dread to mention because it was one of the things that my fellow classmates always said was the reason I would end up whoring myself out to the opposite sex. My classmates always told me I was intelligent but ugly, my friends that I was beautiful but stupid, and by my girlfriend that I was both stupid as well as ugly.  
I would like to clear one thing up before we continue: I am hot. Not in the “Everyone is beautiful” way, but in the “I would do her” way. I would also like to clear another thing up: I will be going to school for Wildlife Ecology, which means that I will be studying chemistry, biology and molecular physics. I do long division for fun. And it’s not just other dorks of who happen to think I’m a looker. My “friends” had no basis to tell me SHIT. And if any of you are reading this, You assholes can kiss my molecular physics ass.  
Anyways, back to my story:  
Since no one would date me all through out high school – as I had attended the same high school since I was in Kindergarten, and there were only about 70 kids in my class – all of whom knew me, I started to believe these horrible things that my classmates, my parents, and my friends were telling me: That I was worthless.  
So I ended up getting into a relationship with the first person that showed interest: My dear friend. One of who was the one of ones (the main one) telling me I was a worthless, ugly, stupid, whore.  
I hate her.  
The relationship with her was rocky at best, abusive at worst. She liked physically hurting other people, and adored emotionally hurting them. While I was dating her she was screwing no less then two other people – One of who was also a good friend of mine, and the other who was the actual object of her desire – her long distance relationship boyfriend. I still remember her posting at a website that my best friend went to – Stating the different things that we had done, as well as talking about how she only ever thought of other women as sex objects.  
Anyways, she’s a real bitch, let me tell you. The only name she is refereed to by now is “Soul Eater”  
In order to get out of this relationship I got into another one. We shall call the abuser “Dipwad,” which is an utter, utter understatement, however it’s the nickname that’s been in use longest.  
This relationship was a long distance relationship with a guy who my best friend had fallen in love with, and who had abused her – although she does not talk about it, or admit it, or even let her fiancé know about it. Please keep in mind that said fiancé is best friends with the abuser – and defends him AS AN ABUSER because he only knows about what happened to me but not about his girlfriend.  
Dipwad and I ended up moving in together, mainly because I didn’t know any better – no one had ever told me the warning signs, health class had one video ONCE on Domestic Violence, and it didn’t cover what happened to me. I find this to be a MAJOR failing in the educational system. I am deeply offended and MORTIFIED by the lack of education about domestic violence and rape in the American schooling system. But anyways….  
He never hit me. During the entire time we were together, he never hit me, so I never called it abuse. He told me I was beautiful, but that I would never make it on my own. He told me that I would NEED him to survive, because I obviously wasn’t smart enough to survive on my own. And, since my friends and family had repeated this mantra, I never questioned it.  
Actually, that’s a lie. I did question it. However, when you’ve been told your whole life that you’re stupid, and a whore, you start to second-guess yourself.  
He started small – He claimed that only I could stop him from killing himself. He told me that my actions impacted if he would hurt himself or not.  
And I was willing to have sex from the beginning, because I was shocked and amazed that someone actually wanted to have sex with /me/. That they didn’t find me to be an outcast, or ugly, that I was somehow more then that. This was my major mistake. I never knew what “rape” or “coercion” were – these things were never taught to me. I thought rape was something that happened to people who deserved it because they were drunk and showing off.  
I do not believe that anymore.  
I became isolated – I had moved some six hundred miles from my home. I had no friends or family there other then him – and he wanted to make sure of it. I was isolated and told not to make friends with others – that others would hurt me, turn me against him, would lie and cheat me – and that I was too stupid to tell the difference. I was told that if I left home without him people would rape me. I was told that unless I stayed with him, I would be raped, mangled and abused because he was the only one who could protect me. I was to come home right after school and wait for him to come home.  
I sat in fear every night. I couldn’t touch his things (the apartment was paid for by his parents, but I lived there), I couldn’t read because it upset him, I wasn’t to sleep because he thought I was lazy then. I was to play video games, because they were /his/ favourite pastime, and maybe if I played them I would “see the light” and “understand him more.”  
And I dreaded when he would come home. Every night it was the same: Pain. Fear. Helplessness. I was forced to perform oral sex, and repeatedly raped or coerced into sex. After awhile I stopped arguing with him, simply because he would smash things, or pound on things when I said no, or later on humiliate me in Karate class, so it was easier to accept his advances rather than to refuse them. Every night I was raped, and every night I was sore, and my body perverted. And then every night we went to karate, where he teaches children.  
I /had/ to go because it was something oh so very important to him. If I ever didn’t he would yell and yell until I cried and went anyways. We would see his parents afterwards – his father by the way, is a teacher as well at these classes.  
I would fight back in my own ways – Growing out my nails to scratch him when he forced himself on me, arguing and standing up for myself, striking out alone whenever I could. I still remember choking back tears when he told his father about my nails being too long, and them sitting there watching me, just to make sure, while I had to clip them “Because of Karate.”  
For a year and a half I lived like this, little more than an animal. Every night I wished I could die – but immediately retracting it – he had started to tell me that if I left, he would kill my friends and family. That he would have no control over himself and would murder them all, raping my female friends and beating my male friends.  
I considered many times simply killing him while he slept. This is why he always slept on the outside of the bed, away from the wall.  
I wanted to get out, but knew that it would have to be him that broke off the relationship. And so I prayed. I prayed to my lord and lady with all of my heart and soul. This was the last chance that I had for religion. After that, I was willing to die rather then live there.  
The next day he came home saying he wanted to go on a date with someone else. He had done this many times before, but this time instead of saying, “Ok,” I said “Hey cool! I can move out and you can have a better chance with her!”  
I moved back into the dorms that I had been forbidden by him to live in. If that option hadn’t been there, I would be dead now.  
The two of them, by the way, did NOT hit it off.  
I confronted him over AIM last year. It was both horrible and empowering at the same time. He responded by stalking my friend at her college’s Take Back The Night, convinced she had spread these ideas to my gullible little mind.  
I still see him sometimes on campus. He seems more afraid of me than I of him. – This is probably because I threatened to tell his mother, teachers, and Karate school, who would strip him of his black belt. I am afraid of him knowing where I work, and I remember shaking to the core when he showed up at my place of work. What pisses me off is that while I was working with rape survivors and being very adamant about letting people know that Rape is Wrong, one of my co-workers got into an abusive relationship.  
I will say this now: I am not a whore. I am a self-empowered, confident woman. I am proud and defiant - I will not be abused. Men tell me to stop holding out for the perfect man, that he doesn’t exist. They tell me that I should settle for someone more obtainable (like them for instance). This makes me laugh. I am very capable, thank you. Even if the perfect person, man OR woman /did/ show up, I would not NEED them. I do not NEED anyone else to complete my existence. If I get involved, it is because I deem that person WORTHY of my attention.  
I am not an object. And NO ONE will treat me as one. And I will damn well make sure that people do treat anyone else like one either - which is why SHARPP and SASS know me by a first name basis.
SaraSigned on: Sun 12 Feb 2006 05:13:39 EST
I was abused by my stepfather from age 4 to 14 years. At about age 10 he was found out as he had asked me to get my friend who lived next door to come and join him in the bedroom. Her sister had been abused as well, she told her mum and the following week at school I was pulled out of class by the police and questioned (without my mum present), she was being told at the same time. I was then left to walk home after school by myself (about 5kms), my mum was completely devastated but supportive. My stepfather wasn't charged at the time as it was decided I was too young to testify in court. He left the house and suddenly our lives changed drastically my brothers didn't understand what was going on they were too young, I had lost my best friend, I was being sent to counselling in the city by social workers etc. I remember attending group counselling, I was the youngest person in the group and the stories the other girls told were horrific. I was different from these girls in that my mum supported me 100%. Anyway as time went on mum was pressured by the church and my stepfather. They got back together after he said he would never do it again and we moved interstate to make a fresh start. I was 12 when we moved, the abuse started almost immediately upon moving here, I was too scared to tell anyone until one day at age 14 I had a breakdown and showed my mum notes my stepfather had been writing me, he had been coming into my room every night since we moved and talked about plans for us to get married when i turned 16. I had tried committing suicide and this time he was charged and went to jail for only 6 weeks. To escape him as he had said he was coming back for me we moved overseas and changed our names. A few years later my brothers wanted to see him again so he came to visit and it was the best thing I confronted him and found he was alot shorter than me, totally let go and became a stronger person from this confrontation. Previously i was always shy and would cry easily, never had a boyfriend and found it hard to make friends, now i am happily married have moved on with my life, have a good relationship with my mum, have located my biological father. All I can say is don't let it consume your life, I did up until age 18 then found it was easier to overcome the abuse and make something of your life. Do it through counselling, psychiatrists, books whatever it takes but don't let it consume you because then they have won. The abusers are the sick ones and deserve to be hated and pitied but let it consume you and you will waste your life on them and it is not worth it.  
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