Date or acquaintance rape is one of the hardest to accept.
This is her story:
We were friends.
We went out to dinner. When he dropped me off at my apartment, he asked if he could come in.
I said sure - I didn’t think anything of it.
He'd been to my apartment many times. Sometimes we did homework together or we'd watch a movie together.
That night, we were sitting on the couch watching television. He asked me if he could kiss me. I didn’t want to; I made excuses. I told him he had a girlfriend and that he he would regret it afterwards.I told him it would change the dynamic between us as friends.
I made these excuses for him so he'd understand that he was wrong. Instead, I should have told him I didn’t want to kiss him because I didn’t want to kiss him. Period.
He kept pressing me.
I felt cornered and I was exhausted trying to reason with him. Then a dumb thought entered my head: maybe if I let him just this once, he might stop bothering me. He must have sensed my momentary hesitation because he leaned in to kiss me. For a while I let him.
Then I pulled away and looked away. I was staring at the television. I wasn’t looking at him.
I gave him no impression that could've caused him to do what he did next.
He must've decided he was going to do this and acted without bothering to fill me in. He got up from the couch and picked me up without warning; without asking me. I didn’t realize his intention until he put me down on the bed, got on top of me, and started pulling my clothes off.
He didn't said a word.
He just did it.
I cannot explain my reaction. I lost all sensation in my body, I lost all sense of control. I couldn’t speak. What sealed the deal on what would happen to me next was the complete same sense of powerlessness I felt after he stripped my clothes off.
He was fully clothed and I was naked. He had power; I didn’t. I keep thinking of the miserable, weak, pathetic little creature I turned into after that. I felt so small.
After he pulled my clothes off, he sucked on my breasts. He looked up and said, “You have perfect breasts!” I guess he got bored after that because he got up and started texting.
It took great effort to move. My body felt it was made of lead. I was very conscious of my naked body. I was hunched over slightly, perhaps subconsciously, trying to cover up what little I could. I got up from the bed and was now standing in front of him. He typed a few more words while I stared emptily at his moving hands.
Then he threw his phone into the laundry basket and spread is arms out motioning me to take his shirt off. The gesture seemed to say, “Take my shirt off, bitch!” I undid a few of his buttons then stopped. He must have done the rest.
The next thing I remember is him making me hold him in my hand. He inserted his finger in me and whispered, “Wow, you are so wet!” Then he sat down on the bed and was motioning me to straddle him.
“Are you clean?” he asked. I wonder if it would have made a difference if I had said no.
Instead, I didn’t answer. The thought of doing anything sexual with him was unbearable. I pulled away from him, took a step back and said, “I don’t think we should.”
It took every ounce of energy in me to do that. I was afraid of him but I didn’t realize that what I was feeling was fear and confusion: I was just trying to get through it.
After I pulled away, he stared at the wall for a second. Then, without saying a word, he took my arm, pinned me to the bed and got on top of me.
Then, I don’t remember feeling anything at all. I pulled my hands away from him. I remember this vividly because I imagined touching his shoulders and the thought repulsed me; so I drew my hands back.
My face was turned away.
At one point, I remember watching my left leg spread out, hanging in the air. Then, I don’t remember seeing anything. Maybe I closed my eyes. I don’t remember. All I remember are words.
He asked me if he could kiss me. After all he had done to me, he asked me if he could kiss me. I don’t remember responding. I don’t think I did because I cannot remember him kissing me. He asked if I was on the pill or if he needed to pull out. I knew I had to respond so I let out two weak responses: once I said yes and once I said no. I remember very clearly how difficult it was to let those words out. I felt my voice was stuck in my throat.
I remember him saying: relax, just relax. I didn’t feel anything. I can’t tell when he was inside me.
At some point, I remember feeling a sharp pain and letting out a yelp. “Too much?” he asked and kept going.
The next thing I remember is him getting up to finish all over me. He got off me after that. I got up immediately and went into the restroom to wipe myself off. I could see him standing by the bed.
“I enjoyed it,” he said, “I’ve never been inside any one so tight before.”
I was shame and embarrassed after he said that to me. Afterward, I just wanted to return to a state of normalcy. I did not think about it again for weeks. It was as if my body wanted to forget what had happened.
Then it came back.
It was almost as sudden and abrupt as the moment he picked me up from the couch. All of it came flooding back at once.
The forgotten moment now plays in my head over and over and over again. The crying spells, the sadness, the anger, the humiliation – all of it came out of nowhere and it hasn’t stopped since.
I'll start all the way at June 5, 2013. At that time, I was 14, just moved to Washington, and was settling into my new school pretty well. But on that day, my entire world changed.
That morning, I got up, got dressed, and went to school. My first class was band, and during that hour and forty-five minute class, my heart hurt. Oh dear god, it hurt so bad. My entire body ached, and I was sweating. My stomach and head both felt like they were being split open. I ran out of the room without permission and hid out in the bathroom, until a friend was sent to get me.
I found out later that my brother, age 25, died from a heart attack around the same time that day.
I can still remember ...still FEEL that moment when my mom told me that Corey was no longer with us. At first I was confused. I said "Of course he's not, he just moved back to Wisconsin." My brother, who had moved with us, had decided to move back to his buddies in Wisconsin, four days earlier. My mother burst into tears even more and shook her head violently.
"No. He's dead. He's dead." It was almost a whisper. That very moment, I felt a shift. It literally felt like a wall in my mind fell. I suddenly felt all emotions, then none at all. I sat there hyperventilating. For the next few hours, I walked around like a zombie. I consumed an entire bag of marshmallows, and an entire liter of cherry Pepsi, without noticing it.
That next week was the hardest of my life. We drove to Wisconsin, met with family, went to his funeral, etc. I was in a panic attack the whole time, not eating, not sleeping. I would not let anyone near me, even my grandmother, who I was very close with.
During that week, I recklessly asked a boy to a movie. Luckily, it worked out in my favor and we ended up dating.
The boy was similar to Corey. He helped me get over (or so I thought) Corey's death. We were going great. We went to parties together, held hands in the halls, texted often, and pulled pranks on our friends. We went to a Halloween party, where we were a team for a scavenger hunt. On our way back, we got lost. It was our one and only true fight, and I shrugged it off. If he truly loved me, it wouldn't matter, right?
Wrong. It was the day of the Homecoming Game, and he broke up with me. I got a text message.
I had been getting better with my depression and cutting, but then it just went spiraling back down to where it was before; even lower sometimes. I finally decided that I had enough. I set a date to kill myself. In a last goodbye, I hopped on to X-Box Live when my family was not home. Joining that party ruined my life.
His name is Nicholas. When I told him what I was going to do, he immediately private messaged me, giving me his number and telling me to call or text him any time. So I did.
At that time, he was 20. We had only talked a few times before that; innocently up to that point, and always with our one mutual friend. He was hilarious, and I was always, always laughing with him.
I texted him and even called him that night. From that point, it was a whirlwind. I started having strong feelings for him. He called me whenever I asked and always returned text messages quickly. I began to feel happy, so I let him in.
I gave in to his requests for pictures. At first, that was all it was. Pictures of my boobs, and once, he even managed to get me to send him a picture of my ass. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, but I wanted him to keep talking to me.
At his request, we Skyped every night. I did everything he asked. Whenever I protested, he would say, "Oh, it's fine," and start to ignore me. God, I hated that. I always felt like I was letting him down. So I almost always gave in. The times I didn't were few and far between. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but I craved his attention and flattery, so I kept doing it secretly.
After his 21st birthday, he told me something that ripped me in half, almost as bad as when I found out my brother had died.
He told me that he had gotten a "Friend With Benefits." You know, a friend you just have sex with? It hurt so bad. I couldn't breathe. I was doing all of this for him, and I still wasn't enough.
A week and a half later, my mom found out what we had been doing. I got my phone, laptop, X-Box, and everything taken away and searched. A week later, I found out my mom had turned them all in to the cops.
There's a police investigation now, and I have to keep repeating what happened. They say he sexually abused me, used me. Sometimes, I believe them. Other times, I don't. I have started to refer to him as the "Good Nick" or the "Bad Nick". I imagine him like the angel and devil, sitting on my shoulder all the time, coaxing me. I'm in counseling for sexual abuse now, and that's actually how I was told about this site.
I'm thankful that it wasn't really anything physical, but I still hurt so bad. I don't trust anyone anymore. I just want the Good Nick back, the one I would daydream about my life when I grew up with. The one that would sing me to sleep when I was upset or stressed out. The one that would get 'teared up' over how 'beautiful' I was. My self confidence is at an all time low.
Good Nick is fading from my mind. All I can think about is the Bad Nick that everyone else is making him out to be. I don't know the words to describe my experience.
I'm in an inner turmoil. Do I keep on loving the Good Nick, or forget the Angelic Monster all together?
Here at The Band, we believe in kicking stigmas to the curb, flinging glitter, and shining a light into the dark. And now?
Your bandmate needs a sounding board.
It's time to Ask The Band!
I'm so confused.
I have this "friend" who I met over the summer. He seemed like a nice guy - even asked before kissing me for the first time. Eventually, he pressured me into having sex with him, but I didn't horribly mind.
However, with each time we had sex, he became more and more violent. The first two times we slept together, I told and reminded him of my only two rules - no marks, and no finishing inside of me. Every time, he has disregarded these rules.
It started off as just hickies but it's moved much farther than that. On Wednesday, he invited himself over to my house, and I was afraid. He bit my breasts and nipples until I could no longer bear it and started pushing him away, saying no, or not so hard, but he simply continued.
He took off his clothing and asked if I wanted to stop.
I wish I had said yes. Oh, how I wish I had said yes! I don't know what made me say no. Maybe I took it as a sign that he would be gentler. Maybe part of me just wanted to get it over with. Maybe I was just plain scared.
He choked me terribly with his hands and with his penis. I actively tried to push him away from me, dying for breath. He entered me so forcefully that I tore a little, and then he put himself into my mouth again. I could taste my own blood.
Afterwards, he asked me "Why do you like it so rough?" I didn't realize that my suffering had implied that I enjoyed what was happening. I just said "I don't know."
Am I going crazy? Does he really think he's doing me a favour? Two days later, I can still see individual teeth marks from his biting. My most expensive bra has blood on it from him torturing my nipples.
Maybe it's my fault for not saying no "well enough." All I can think is that it's somehow my fault. I can't process what's happening.
Was I raped?
Rape is a trauma that lasts with you a lifetime.
This is her story:
About a year ago, my best friend was really into this older guy, and I didn't want to be around him; he gave me the creeps. But she always said, "Come on! I don't want to go alone," so I'd give in and hang out with them.
She'd always been a horrible friend, but I suppose I didn't care (don't worry, because thanks to my current wonderfully supportive, long- term boyfriend, I've since gotten her out of my life.)
She'd accused me of wanting him, which, for some reason, made me want to prove her right. He suggested, through text, that we have sex. I thought, "Hell, she deserves it," and went with it, even though I knew it was wrong.
He asked to hang out with me alone, and I said "sure," but to make it abundantly clear that I didn't want to have sex, I followed that up with, "I DON'T want to have sex with you."
He replied, "Okay, I don't have sex on Sundays anyway; it's a sin."
I'm so stupid - why would I believe such a bullshit excuse? I don't know, I'm young and naive.
We were watching the movie Saw, just as friends, so I wasn't expecting, or hoping for anything sexual. He was.
He started kissing me. I was semi-unsure of what was going on, so I went with it for a moment. Then, he rolled on top of me and started to unbutton my pants.
I was confused.
I pushed up on his chest and asked as quietly and calmly as I could, "What are you doing?" He ignored me. I must have asked at least five more times getting more and more anxious when he didn't reply.
Things got a little blurry - after he put on a condom, I accepted what was about to happen.
I knew no one else was home and I was afraid to run home and telling my parents because I didn't want to get in trouble. So I just laid there with my arms at my sides; I didn't really know what else I could do.
I thought I was okay. I really did.
I felt guilty and for a while I convinced myself that we'd just had sex. Soon, though, I began to feel ashamed and disgusted. The tears came and I realized, I had been raped, violated, assaulted.
After I realized I'd been raped, I went into a very deep depression.
I managed to keep both the depression and the rape to myself, though I came clean to my friend. I was happy that she believed me, because she's the type who thinks people get what they deserve. Soon, though, she began to use the rape against me in arguments. That hurt. A lot.
I told my dad about the rape.
We talked about the rape and decided together not to report it to the police as my rapist had just been arrested for raping and statutory raping a number of girls, so he was in jail for over twenty years.
I became suicidal and I didn't believe it had anything to do with the rape
I went to the psychiatric hospital for a five day stay. Now that I understand the stages of grief after a rape: depression, regret, anger, and guilt you go through it makes sense.
I'm currently working through the guilt stage following the rape. I know logically that the rape wasn't my fault; that he should have taken no for an answer the first time. But still, I feel I need to go back and change the past; like it was all my fault.
I was raped.
But I have a voice and I intend to use it to help myself and anyone else who has been through a rape.
Have you survived a rape? How did you cope?
Sexual abuse is devastating, even more so when the abuser is a friend.
This is her story.
Age 13. Should be a time with no worries, right? Wrong. That was the year I was sexually assaulted and violated by my best friend.
One day she forced me to look at porn with her. When I looked away she made me. Another day when we were hanging out she tried making me remove my pants, but I said no. Not long after, she forced me to take off my shirt and felt me up even when I was practically almost crying. After I put my shirt back on she tried kissing my neck to give me a hickey but I shoved her off me.
Just before I left, she gave me a hug while grabbing my ass.
My mom asked me about a year and a half later why this girl and I weren't friends anymore. I broke down and told her. She was extremely supportive and I thought the pain was finally over. Wrong again.
I'm 22 now. I had forgotten about it for years until a close friend of mine sent me an episode on YouTube of an Oprah show talking about same sex rape and incest, not knowing what happened to me. My past immediately came flooding back to me and it keeps haunting me. It won't stop and I feel like there's nothing I can do. I don't want to date, get boyfriends or even have sex ever again after this suddenly came back.
I just want to make it stop.
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