Rape & Sexual Abuse
Friday the Thirteenth - Stolen Innocence
I
was raped. on a cold, drizzly Friday the thirteenth.
By a man, no make that a monster with a gun.
I laughed at my attacker, thinking surely this must be a joke!
I was so completely wrong.
I begged and I pleaded, tried to bargain my way out.
His mind was set . there was not a doubt.
"Shut up or I'll kill you!" he said.
As he stabbed the long black barrel hard into my ribs.
Shock overtook my young eighteen-year-old body.
I cried as I began to grieve all that I had not yet done.
My dreams, my goals, my accomplishments . gone.
He dragged me by the wrist to a lonely field.
Down onto the ground he told me to get.
"Undress now or I'll kill you, I will!"
I did as he said.
My life was at stake.
My mind sauntered to my boyfriend and my seven-month-old baby.
Would they ever find me?
Would kids someday ride through this field on their bikes?
And accidentally discover my raped and decayed body?
These horrid thoughts I uncontrollably entertained.
The act of what took place did not upset me.
Not as much as the gun and the threat to my life.
That indescribable scare of thinking "This is it!
"I'm done, I'll never grow old."
"I'll never see my boyfriend!"
"My mother, my sister or brother!"
"My baby!"
"Oh my God, my baby I never will again hold!"
"God why is this happening?"
"I need you . please help me, I'm so very scared!"
It was then that my senses suddenly brought me back.
The cold rain falling down on my face, the cuts on my hands.
My ears hurt so much that they throbbed from the cold.
The rape was now over.
I had barely even noticed the act.
The skinny monster now stood.
I gathered myself up.
I began begging again.
Pleading for my life, for my boyfriend and my son.
Again he became very agitated.
I stopped almost as soon as I'd begun.
He said to me "Shut up! "You better not move!"
"I'll kill you, stay here!"
I listened . for a moment, and then I got up and I ran!
To this very day I've never run as fast as I did that horrible night.
I screamed and I cried.
Not a soul came despite.
I finally made it back to my friend's home.
Where I hit the front door and exhaustedly collapsed on my own.
They brought me inside, knowing immediately something was wrong.
I finally somewhat caught my breath, then I started sobbing.
Repeating over and over again about "the gun!"
The policeman then came.
He asked me my name.
In detail I had to describe over what I'd just moments ago been through.
Giving full description, details of that gut wrenching act.
My boyfriend just held me.
Supporting me, with his strong mascara-tear stained shoulder.
Now the report was all over.
My baby! My baby! I then finally got to hold!
Of all joys in the world, none could have been greater.
Oh dear Lord I eternally thank you.
To the scene of the crime I was then later taken.
To show them the spot where my very soul was shaken.
The officer was sweet. He drew out his gun.
He said not to worry.
He swore to me that I was safe.
He assured me that he wouldn't let anyone do me anymore harm.
I showed him the exact area.
It was just as I had described.
A flattened out spot, hidden in three-foot tall grass.
With two wooden pallets lying nearby.
He was satisfied, me I just shuddered . then back to the car we went.
Now off to the hospital he dutifully escorted me.
This
is where the real rape begins.
In this small room there were eight people.
Total strangers all buzzing around.
No privacy here.
There's absolutely none to be found.
Off with your clothes and into bags they go.
All possessions taken, removed, never to come back.
They scrape under your nails, even taking clippings.
Then they check you for cuts.
Now hop up onto the table.
My shivering legs were placed in stirrups.
Naked you lay as they pluck hairs from all over various places.
This is all done for evidence they say.
Bewildered eyes with tear stained cheeks look up into their faces.
Samples of everything have to be taken.
Cultures are done.
Blood work too.
I was given a tetanus shot, for the cuts . just in case.
Tears start to flow again because of the shame I'm now enduring.
Way worse than my previous pain.
I want to go home.
I just want my mother.
I want to forget.
Is this all a dream?
Could this all just be a very sick and horrible joke?
This kind of stuff only happens on TV.
"So why then dear Lord was it happening to me?"
I shamefully admit something now only to my very closest of friends.
That before this all happened, in my small naive head.
I used to romanticize/fantasize about what it would be like to be
raped.
I somehow always envisioned it being with a handsome man.
That I would say "No!"
And beg and plead.
All the while secretly enjoying the excitement, the fury.
All the newfound feelings.
Let me tell you reality sets in when it really takes place.
It hits like a brick, right square smack in the face.
This man he was not handsome, or even remotely well built.
He was ugly and skinny, actually scrawny fits better.
With bushy curly dark hair, and a large ugly bushy mustache.
He looked as sick as an AIDS patient, had I been given a guess.
The sex I could have cared less about, if you could even call it that.
Doggy style none the less.
He was so extremely teeny.
I barely even felt his three or four quick thrusts inside me.
I vividly remember slapping his hand away from grabbing my breast.
Please make a note ladies . rape is NOT romantic.
It is NOT a joke.
It is NEVER fun.
It can happen to anyone, anytime anywhere.
The time can be wrong or right.
It will not matter if he truly dares.
Humanize yourself to him.
Do not put up a fight.
I truly believe that doing this is what saved my young life on that
night.
A
rape counselor then came.
She stayed by my side.
Explaining away the procedures I endured.
She said that for having been through this I was very well adjusted.
But my guess is that I think she says that to everyone in this situation.
It's her job, so I suppose she must.
My feelings
at this moment were very surreal.
She then recants how extremely lucky I am.
That another woman had very recently been raped, also nearby.
Only she was not near as fortunate as I.
The monster that raped her, he used not a gun, but a knife.
When he could not get aroused he sliced her throat ear to ear.
That did not do it for him, so one more time he sliced her again.
Now he was satisfied.
And he did his sick deed.
He left her for dead.
She managed to crawl until she reached help.
This girl she lived!
In spite of the horror she had cruelly been dealt.
I now know I was lucky.
It could have been much worse.
I thank the Lord above for he saved me that night.
This whole incident has unfortunately become a part of my life.
I sometimes forget that it ever happened.
Until I hear the word rape on TV.
Those words on the radio or from someone's mouth.
I then silently shudder inside.
Remembering this experience.
Reliving it within seconds all over again.
There's only one other time it comes back to my mind.
That is at about 11:30 p.m. on every February the thirteenth.
As well as on every single Valentines Day.
By the way just how ironic is that?
The holiday for lovers.
Friday the thirteenth I was raped.
You know what they say about that particular day?
Valentines Day that year was rough.
I spent it in a strange hospital in absolute utter shame.
My life is not over though.
Not by a long shot indeed.
That man, you ask?
The one who was my boyfriend during that very trying time?
He stayed with me; he even he loved me more in spite of that ordeal.
He also married me.
Fifteen years later we have a beautiful life.
We have
four gorgeous kids, three girls and one boy.
My seven-month old son from back then, has recently turned fourteen.
I still thank the Lord for saving me that night.
For giving me another chance, for holding me tight.
I've never been a victim.
I am a survivor.
For that I am grateful.
Yet I still remember . you bet!
That yes, I have been raped.
Something unfortunately, I will never forget.
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