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Recent Stories
The man who did this to me was my boyfriend. His name is Brandon Cleine. We were both 17 at the time. Before it happened, I think to scare me he told me how he had raped another young girl before me when he was a young boy. He had also raped animals violantly then killed them. He was trying to have sex with me one day while he was at my house. I told him no. That was unacceptable to him. At first he was kissing me, but I turned my head away. I was starting to get scared. I knew he was very strong and I would have no hope against him. He pushed me on to the bed and forced my clothes off. I started screaming for him to stop, butbhe pushed me down harder as I was trying to push him off me. He put his fingers inside my vagina. It was very painful. I screamed out, and he put his dirty other hand over my mouth. He then put his penis inside my vagina. I was crying from the pain, tears were coming out of my eyes even though I could not speak. Later I found out he had ripped my vagina. Next he did what he had always tried to force me to do. He forced his penis inside me anally. I thought I would die from the pain, but the worst was still about to happen. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head down, forcing me to suck on his penis, choking me. When I nearly threw uo on him he bashed my head against the wall. He didn't care who heard now, no one was coming. His grip on me loosed and I finally got away. I pulled a shirt on and screamed at him to get out. He didn't seem to think that he had done anything wrong. I kept screaming until he finally got out of my house. All of this happened on my bed, where I am sitting now. After that I just went to sleep, I couldn't handle being conscious. It wasn't until a year later that I remembered, and I went to the police but it didn't even go to court because of lack of evidence. I am 19 now, and I am still scared of seeing him when I am out. I have PTSD, and I hallucinate and have flashbacks. I can barely stand living some days, as I also have Interstitial Cystitis, Fibromyalgia and mental illnesses that are major depression, severe anxiety and OCD. However I am stronger now, and I feel sorry for this small man who has to hurt women and animals to feel big. This horrible person should be locked up for life.
It was on my 20th birthday. I had just got done celebrating with my mom and sister. I had been seeing this guy for a while and finally got the clue that it was going nowhere and he was using me for sex. So stupid me I go to his house (wasn't drinking at all that night btw) and confront him saying I didn't want to have a sexual relationship with him but that we could still be friends. I got up off the couch to leave and he suddenly picks me up and carries me to his bedroom and plops me down on his bed. I start to get up and try to leave and he just say's my name and gives me this stern evil look like "you aren't getting out of here till l have my way look". So I freeze and my memory gets fuzzy after that. He must have taken off my clothes because the next thing I remember is he's on top of me without a condom and raping me. I blanked out at that time and the next thing I remember is sitting on the edge of his bed putting my clothes back on. It took me weeks of being in shock before it dawned on me what happened. It was too late to report it since any physical evidence was already washed away. I'm in therapy now and it's helping me alot. I never recovered my full memory of the assault though. I remember it every time my birthday comes around.
I was 20 and out with friends in an American city I'd never been to before. We were drinking in some bar, but I wasn't really drunk just a bit tipsy. All of a sudden my memory goes completely blank for several hours, so I guessed I had my drink spiked in the bar. When I came to I was naked on the couch in an apartment I didn't recognise. I was groggy and confused and had no idea what had happened or how I came to be there. A man was there, about 35, and he was talking to me, being nice and reassuring and telling me it was ok, I'd just had a bit too much to drink at the bar. He then brought up some lines of coke and told me I'd feel better if I did a line with him. Without thinking I just did it; I felt really suggestable and confused so in that moment it seemed sensible. Immediately I felt really good, a hundred times more relaxed and not scared anymore. The man kept talking to me, being comforting and just chatting about life and stuff. I ended up taking more cocaine from him, even though I was by this point hardly aware of what was going on. But I stopped feeling scared and because he was being so nice I kinda started to trust him. Then I remember being giggly even though nothing was funny about the situation. It was then that it got really weird and creepy. He put on the TV and showed me the grossest kind of porn you can imagine - I won't say what it was, but it was really disgusting and vile. He told me he wanted me to do the things the actresses were doing. I told him no. He tried to convince me to do it, was really manipulative about it and tried to pay me $200 to do it but I kept saying no. Then he said he would "be nice this time," and said I could do some different stuff for him instead. Because I was so scared he would make me do the porn stuff I said ok - because of the different drugs inside me I felt less afraid than I would do otherwise, I was just desperate to keep his mind away from the porn stuff. So some stuff happened that I am really ashamed of because I know if I'd fought it I probably could've avoided it because he didn't seem violent. It was horrible and disgusting and I still cannot bring myself to talk or write about what happened for about 20 mintues. I blamed myself for a long time because he didn't physically force me to do anything, but it was so manipulative and I was so confused that stuff ended up happening anyway. When I was able to stand up (I hadn't been able to get off the couch all that time) I tried to find my clothes while he was in the bathroom so I could get out of there. They weren't in the living room. I went into his bedroom and found them there on the floor. As I dressed he appeared behind me. I asked why my clothes were in the bedroom and he laughed at me like I was stupid and said "don't you remember having sex in here?" I said no, I couldn't remember anything. Then he told me how it had all been consensual and how I had liked it. This was another reason it took me so long to accept that it was really rape because this was most likely a lie and I had probably been unconscious. As I was in a foreign city I had no idea how to get back to the hostel where my friends were. I started to panic and started crying. My rapist sat me down, soothed me and put a blanket around my shoulders. He brought me ice-cream and said he would walk me home. He kept saying how nice I was and what a great evening it had been. I was shaking and as the come-down from coke started I realised how awful the night had been and I couldn't believe I'd allowed certain things to happen. Luckily we were about 3 blocks away from the hostel I was staying in. He dropped me off, again thanking me for a nice time as if the whole thing had been a normal date. I've come to the conclusion now that this guy is seriously messed up and lives in a fantasy world where he can drug girls and pretend that he's just having a normal, consensual evening. For him it wasn't about force or violence, it was about make-believe and trying to get someone to fully his gross fantasies. It was hard for me to call my experience rape when I felt I'd played a part in it, but now I know how manipulative he was and how I was not myself because of (probably) rohypnol, cocaine and alcohol mixed together. It took some weeks of councilling to come to that conclusion. Almost a year on, I have got past the experience and can now talk about it openly with friends. It is a huge relief to not blame myself anymore. But there will always be the memory of the stuff he got me to do, which still makes me feel sick if I think about it.
It was the first time I’d ever used a fake ID, the first time anyone had ever bought me a drink, the first time I’d ever worn too little clothes on a freezing December night because hours of dancing didn’t need a winter coat. I was celebrating the end of an intensely controlling and jealous relationship: new friends, new excitement. Twenty five drinks had quickly saturated every one of my hundred pounds and had catapulted me to a happily flirtatious and dangerously trusting state. I was going to make up for all the frat parties and drunken nights I had missed under the control of my ex. It was the first time I’d gotten to be a normal college girl, just doing fun dumb things with fun dumb friends. I mixed liquors, I laughed, I shared my deepest secrets and a bathroom stall with a girlfriend, I writhed on the dance floor, I felt beautiful and young, and immortal. But like one in five college women, I also was the victim of sexual assault. I was raped, and it took me years to admit it. ——————————————————————————————————————————— I couldn’t remember much of the night if I tried, a blurry string of images my brain didn’t want to save. There was a huge banner, some combination of Greek letters that I had never bothered to learn, plastered like a badge of honor on the wall. Intermittent trash, beer cans and whatever else a house and boys like this acquired. The guy that had walked me there seemed fine, normal. He had kept his arms around my shivering frame while his friends guided us from the bar to their apartment, an act of ingrained chivalry or some way of signaling “dibs.” I don’t remember exchanging a single word, but somehow I knew his name. I remember him behind me, forcefully pressing his hard-on against my butt, his hands encircling my waist and trapping me in his grip. I numbly felt his desire against me, his hot breath panting in my ears. I remember wearing only my underwear after being flung onto the mattress on the floor, just a flat sheet dirtily clinging to its home. I remember the girls I had considered friends laughing the next morning, mocking my “no” screams that reverberated through the walls. I remember trying to laugh too. I remember trying to think it was normal, that maybe I had missed some elemental understanding of the way a one-night stand worked. I liked sex, I wasn’t a virgin. Maybe it wasn’t really a big deal, was that how that worked? I was drunk, I was flirtatious and dancing, I was wearing something sexy. I knew it was wrong to say I was asking for it, I was taught “no means no” in sex-ed, but I did follow him home. Was it his fault, did he just misread my signals? Maybe it was normal for my insides to ache for days, to remember his teeth scraping and penetrating the skin between my legs. To remember my arms urgently pressing against the mattress to my side, trying to squirm from his grip. Maybe it was normal to remember his halfway limp dick being rammed inside me over. and. over. and. over. Maybe this was normal. ——————————————————————————————————————————— This cannot be our normal. I lived years of denial, assuming that I had inadvertently given a predator the go-ahead to do with me as he pleased. That even though my gut filled with toxic, nauseous air every time I remembered what he had done to me, that somehow that feeling was of guilt or embarrassment. I let myself think that it wasn’t a “real” rape. “Real” rape is when a stranger attacks you while you’re walking home alone, you scream for your life, you go to the police. “Real” rape is acknowledged, it is definite. There is no gray area in “real” rape. There is no drunkenness or flirtatiousness. “Real” rape is unequivocal. No one thinks you made it up based on morning-after guilt. That it was your fault, that you implied consent. But it was real rape. Rape is always real, no matter if you were drunk, young, trusting, flirtatious, even if you weren’t wearing a damn piece of clothing. No one has the right to you without your verbal, sober consent. I was raped. It was not normal.
Right now I am a 20 year old female and I think about my rapists every year since then. It was during my summer break from finishing my freshman year in high school. I went to a friend's graduation party and I thought it would be safe since another friend drove me there. I was offered a beer then I drank some, I wasn't drugged or wasted, I was tipsy and I was fully aware of my actions. I consented to having sex with my friend that was graduating and it was fine until we got into going and I noticed someone hiding at the foot of the bed and I tried stopping my friend that was on top of me. He kept telling me it was nothing( I'm sure he thought I was wasted but I wasn't.... I noticed that large man at the foot of the bed). I tried leaving but then I realized my "friend" had "tag teamed" me. The guy at the foot of the bed tried holding me down and kept shoving himself onto/into me and I kept pushing him off with my knees and palming him in the face. I felt like I put up a big fight that he eventually tried hiding back at the foot of the bed while my "friend" tried to assure me it was just him even though the height difference was HUGE and then I slapped him across the face and ran out while trying to dress myself. I remember sobbing onto the street in the middle of the night having no idea where I was and who I could trust. I didn't know if I could trust the friend that drove me there... I just called someone to pick me up. I remember crying all the way back into bed secretly.
All Submissions
 
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8/18/2015
The man who did this to me was my boyfriend.
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8/16/2015
It was on my 20th birthday.
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8/6/2015
I was 20 and out with friends in an American city I'd never been to before.
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8/1/2015
It was the first time I’d ever used a fake ID, the first time anyone had ever bought me a drink, the first time I’d ever worn too little clothes on a freezing December night because hours of dancing didn’t need a winter coat.
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7/27/2015
Right now I am a 20 year old female and I think about my rapists every year since then.
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7/26/2015
Let me tell you that I'm a 24 male.
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7/25/2015
It wasn't until an argument I had with a friend that I felt the need to express this.
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7/22/2015
My first kiss was my cousin who was younger than me, it first started out as just playing house with the rest of my cousins til he started to wait til it was just me and him and he'd find ways to kiss me like wrestling i didn't want to keep doing it ...
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7/22/2015
I was raped by my boyfriend when I was 17.
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7/22/2015
When I was 3 I was rapped by my dad's best friend.
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