It is almost midnight, I’ve turned off all the lights, brushed my teeth and I’m all cuddled up in my bed with my computer in my lap. It is time for yet another try to put words on my story, to keep sharing and trying to let what I feel inside out. I stare at the screen and my fingers wont move, every time the same procedure and then like if a lighting would hit me my fingers dance across the keyboard and my story appears on the screen.
“Rape is a type of sexual assault usually involving sexual intercourse, which is initiated by one or more persons against another person without that person’s consent. A person who commits an act of rape is known as a rapist. The act may be carried out by physical force, coercion, abuse of authority or with a person who is incapable of valid consent.”
That is how Wikipedia defines what a rape is. In my case rape is a type of sexual abuse involving sexual intercourse initiated by one person and the rapist carried it out with abuse of authority. My rapist was an excellent manipulator, the best one I have ever met, and he knew exactly what to say and do to keep me in his imaginary cage. In the beginning I searched for a way out and I tried to fight the situation I was stuck in but after a while I gave in. First of all I was only 13 and I think the what was happening to me chock me and I didn’t realise it until it had been several months of it. Then came the shame, the shame of what was done to me and then I couldn’t tell because of the shame because what if they said it was my own fault and I was the one to blame. I remember thinking “What is the point in telling when then maybe wont even believe me”.
Before I knew it a year had gone by and by now I was the best liar you could find among 14-year-old girls. I lied to everyone “Where have you been? Whats wrong? Where did you get money from? Why didn’t you answer when I tried to call?” . Loads and loads of question and I always had an answer ready, I lied more than I told the truth. The worst part is that I lied to myself but I had to, how would I otherwise make it out of bed every single day during these years. The worst lie I told myself every day was “I am ok”. I promise you, I was not.
Why did I keep it all to myself? Fear!
That is the reason why I never told, I was so scared of what would happen if I tried to tell. He had his strategies, he knew they would work, to force me to shut up. He used to put money on my bank account. He told me that it was my own fault when I “made him pay”. I never wanted the money but I couldn’t prevent him from putting it on my account. He made me feel like a whore. And I never asked for money the only think I begged for was for him to stop. He threatened me but the worst threat was never what he would do to me it was what he would do to the ones I loved. How could I justify that someone else got hurt just so that he would stop hurting me? I couldn’t. So I didn’t tell. I kept my mouth shut, I turned off all my emotions and whenever he called I cried inside as I spread my legs.
Maybe I should believe in Karma because in that case my life looks pretty good from here. I hope I have had my years of hell.
My birthday is coming up, I’m turning 26. I’m proud of what I have accomplished so far. Academically I have done much more than I ever though I was capable of, and I have travelled the world and been to more places than some people ever dream of visiting. So from that point of view I don’t mind turning 26 but I have never really lost my virginity to someone who cares, I havent truly loved someone because I have been too scared to let my emotions out and I’ve missed out on so much during the years of the assault because I lived my life as a robot with no emotions. Emotionally Im only ready to turn 21. He stole so many years from me, It is not ok to steal somethink that you can never get back.
You stole years of my childhood and for that I hate you.