rape-reu-759I am going to try to do something that I have never been able to do before. I am going to try to explain how it feels to be raped. Or at least how it felt when I was raped.


As he holds me down on the bed, I just want to crawl out of my skin. Fourteen years old, naked and afraid, I already feel violated as his eyes look me up and down.

I know what is about to happen will be even more horrible than his staring eyes. Yet I also know not to fight, because this is not the first time he has raped me. He started raping me when I was thirteen years old.

As I lay here, his naked body on top of mine, I feel completely and utterly out of control. My body is no longer mine. It is his. Nothing remains private. Nothing remains mine.

As his lips caress my skin I shudder in disgust. Disgust at the feeling of his lips touching me but also disgust at the goosebumps appearing on my skin as he kisses my neck. I cannot control it. I know I should…but I can’t. I squirm as his lips make contact again.

I shudder as his hands begin to touch me below. His fingers touching places that should belong to me. Nothing remains private. Humilation hits me.

I have no time to think. I tense as he lowers himself closer to me and then he enters me. He is not gentle or considerate.

I writhe in pain as he rams his penis into me. It is violent and painful. Tensing makes it worse but I cannot relax. He is raping me fully now; backwards, forwards, in, out.

He does not use a condom. I feel dirty. I am disgusting. I want to crawl out of my body as his body contaminates mine.

He is finished now. I lay still, I am sore and bleeding. He does not help me but instead forces me to the shower.

I can barely stand as the water runs over me. Every inch of my body aches. I scrub myself raw, wishing I could wash him away yet knowing that I can’t.

Shame and self blame begin to surface; why didn’t I fight? Why didn’t I stop him? It is my fault. I am bad. I must not tell for people will blame me. They will say I deserved it, he told me so. But he hurt me….so badly.

I am afraid. Alone.

Over time Depression takes control. Self-harm hides my dirty little secret. It hides my sadness and my shame.

Fear and anxiety take hold as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder develops. Flashbacks fill my days. Nightmares fill my broken sleep.

I am his prisoner. Kidnapped yet hiding in plain sight.


“Rape”. One small little word with so much meaning. One small little word that can make someones whole world come tumbling down. One small little word, yet such a huge action that can change a victims life forever.

Rape victims live and relive the event over and over. Worse yet we can never leave the scene of the crime. It is embedded in our memories with all the other disgusting details. The memories never leave. They are with us always and change our lives forever. We survive but we NEVER forget.

My abuser raped me over 400 times. He took my virginity. He took my childhood and stole my innocence. My abuser took my body and took my soul. Yet I survived…or at least to you and the rest of the outside world, it looks like I survived.

I am a sexual assault survivor but I have a secret.

My secret; I wish he had killed me the very first time he laid hands on me.

Yes, I am a rape survivor but I will NEVER forget.

Thanks for reading.

**Image courtesy of Google Images**

2 thoughts on “Rape

  1. You are brave.
    You are surviving.
    It wasn’t your fault.
    It’s not fair.
    You described your experience well. Your words resonated with my own memories. That’s OK because after many many years of work, I have learned to respond to my memories with compassion.
    Your courage will take you to your own compassion in time.
    It can be easy to bypass all the ugliness and horror that lives under the short little word, “rape”.
    Thank you for your courage. Thank you for surviving.


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