“Slut.”

“Slut.”

A Rape Story with all the uncomfortable details.

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There is a question on Ok Cupid that asks if you have a rape fantasy.

I?m here to let you know the reality of rape. Not the fantasy.

Rape is never sexy. You are never turned on and begging for it.

I was an 18-year-old virgin. It was New Year?s Eve. Which kind of sucked for years after, because the whole world is celebrating and I?m thinking ?Yay, it?s the fourth anniversary of my brutal attack.? Oh sorry, I mean that rape fantasy thing?

I was home from college. Still a virgin, by choice. I was an atheist back then, so it definitely was NOT for religious reasons. No, it was from a serious addiction to fine literature. You know, Harlequin romance novels.

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?I?m going to love one man and it?s going to be for life.? That old female brainwashing technique. Those books are dangerous.

It was New Year?s Eve and I was back from New York to see all my friends. I grew up on a farm in Illinois in a very strict, religious home. Discipline was violent. One place I was always happy to escape to was my best friend?s house. She had the ?cool Mom? in the suburb. I was so happy to be a part of this small group of friends. I felt at home there. I was shy and naive and sheltered, but I was funny and made them laugh. Shay was my best friend. Her sister Kay (names altered) was 11 months younger and in the same grade, and she was my second best friend.

So it was New Year?s Eve and my friend Dana and I headed to her party. I was dressed in jeans and a mint green sweater with a white lace collar. My style was a little preppy then.

We walked into the party and mingled with different people for a while. Then I headed into the kitchen and saw him. This handsome man. I?d seen photos of him and heard stories about him. It was Shay and Kay’s brother. He?d been off in the military during the three years his sisters and I had been high school friends. He had just come home.

He saw me, zeroed in on me and asked me to dance. We danced half a dance while I thought how romantic it was. Wouldn?t it be crazy if I fell in love with their brother and they were my sister-in-laws? I loved his family so much. This was my second home. He leaned in and kissed me and said, ?Hey can I show you something?? He said he wanted to show me how he and his best friend (who was also his Mom?s boyfriend?) had remodeled the basement. I was swept up with the romance of the dance and the kiss. I said ?Sure.? I followed him downstairs. He showed me how they had built a bar, talked a few minutes then kissed me. It was surreal. Their brother. So handsome. So into me?

Then he turned to the right and said ?Here, let me show you my room. We just finished it.? His hand was on the doorknob, and he swung open the door and I walked in. The light from the basement was illuminating a triangle of his bedroom. I expected him to turn the light on but he shut the door. It was pitch black and I couldn?t see anything. Then all hell broke loose. He threw me down on the bed and pinned my arms down. Then he started trying to rip my jeans off. I begged. I pleaded. I told him I was a virgin. He pulled down my pants and underwear together. One, two, three moves while my arms were pinned.

Then I was raped, raped, sodomized, then raped and ass raped again.

He entered me with one thrust. Remember. A virgin. Scared shitless. Excruciating pain. Endless pain. Pain so intense I literally thought I would die on the bed. Then at one point during the endless hard fucking I started panicking because it was so dark. Absolutely no light. Like a coffin. I picked my right hand up off the bed as he was raping me, turned my head to the right, and looked at the spot where I put my hand. An inch or two away from my nose. And then I waved my hand in front of my face. And I couldn?t see it. And for some reason it terrified me. I was being attacked and I couldn?t see it. It made it harder to process what was going on and to anticipate what would happen next.

So my brain joined my body in agony. And I started repeating, over and over, ?Oh my God, Oh my God, I?m going to die.? It was an endless loop in my head. ?Oh my God, Oh my God, I?m going to die.? Then I heard this other voice. Really calming. ?He?s not hurting you. He?s only hurting your body.? Now, there?s no way that I could have created this voice myself. Not with all that was going on. My panic was almost talking over it.

?Oh my God, Oh my God, I?m going to die.?

?He?s not hurting you. He?s only hurting your body.?

?I?m going to die.?

?He?s not hurting you. He?s only hurting your body.?

And then it was as if my body went numb and I couldn?t feel the pain anymore. I felt this energy, this force, gathering in my body. It seemed to start at my knees, and grew in force and intensity as it moved up me. I?m still being brutally raped or ass raped. Who knows at this point? But it?s like I don?t even notice. All I?m aware of is this huge force that has gathered in my chest and opened my lungs. And then it just floats up, and?

Deep exhale.

My soul leaves my body and hovers in the corner of the room. And I watch myself being raped. Dispassionately. Like it?s a movie. I can see in the dark. I can see what he?s doing to me. And it was a comfort. To escape my body. And to be able to see it, so I could process it.

If that makes sense.

After the first two rapes and sodomy were over he rolled off me and laid next to me. And then my soul just went back to my body. I can?t explain it any other way. I wouldn?t have believed it if I hadn?t just experienced it. But I didn?t have long to ponder the mystical. Because once my soul was back in my body I was no longer numb.

I was lying on the bed in excruciating pain. In a state of shock. Unable to move. Then he sat up and crouched in the bed and cradled my body and kind of soothed me. ?I?m so sorry.? ?I didn?t mean to hurt you.? Over and over. It seemed like it was for two or three minutes that he was overcome with remorse. I was lying there pantless, still wearing my mint green sweater with the little white collar. Thinking ?Well, at least he feels sorry??

And then the triangle of his bedroom lit up again. It was his best friend who had come looking for him. He looked at the scene, stood still for a second, then slowly backed out of the room and shut the door. And then my best friends? brother raped and sodomized me again. During the second round I was so angry at myself. ?Why didn?t you run when you had the chance?? And no, your guardian angel only gives you one get-out-of-body card for free. This time I felt every minute.

As soon as it was over I crawled away, feeling the floor until I found my jeans, and then dressed quickly and got to the door. I was not taking any chances on a third round. He was getting up as I walked out.

He flipped on the light switch then said ?Holy Fuck.? He sounded really shocked.

I turned around and looked back. His back was to me, looking at his room. There was blood everywhere. It was like a Charles Manson crime scene. At least a third, in some places two thirds, of all the wall space was covered in blood. I walked away thinking ?Looks like you?re going to have to paint again.?

I sometimes wonder how he felt cleaning all that up.

I headed to the bathroom and found sanitary napkins. I was pouring blood. I bled for a month. I don?t think that?s what happens when you break your hymen.

When I walked out of the bathroom I had to wait for my friend, who was making out with someone, somewhere. My rapist was slumped down in a big easy chair in the living room. When he saw me walk out of the bathroom he cornered me. Tried to seduce me with his words. Fuck with my mind. ?You know I didn?t rape you. You wanted it. You danced with me. You kissed me. You went down to my bedroom with me.?

And his words worked, for a while.

I couldn?t say I was raped for a long time. Maybe for six months I didn?t use the word ?rape.? I told my best friend Shay over the phone a few days after it happened. I said I had sex with him. Then I said ?I didn?t want to.? She replied breezily ?Well, at least you got it out of the way.? That was the last time I talked to her.

A week after the attack I went to see the gynecologist on campus. When she examined me, I was still bleeding a lot. After she performed an internal exam, she begged me to go to the police. I told her I couldn?t. They were like my second family and I couldn?t hurt them. She then said something I?ll never forget. She said ?You have to tell. This is the worst rape I?ve ever seen. You are all ripped up inside.? I couldn?t even bring myself to tell the doctor about the ass rape. But I imagine the scenario back there was much the same.

I just wanted to pee in a cup and make sure I wasn?t pregnant and get the fuck out of there. I could still barely walk I was in so much pain. My entire body was sore from the violence of the attack. Every step I took hurt. From my shoulders to my knees. I walked to the lab, got my plastic cup, and headed to the bathroom in the lab area. As I shut the door some man who worked in the building walked in to shoot the shit with the female lab tech.

?Yeah, these girls are such whores nowadays. They?re just lying back on the pillows with their legs spread.? I was incensed. I walked out of the bathroom and set down the pee cup and said I couldn?t go. I went back and did the test another day.

So I got raped & sodomized, self-medicated with booze and was an aspiring alcoholic, got deathly ill with mono, received an incomplete in one class so I couldn?t complete my Freshman year of college, and ended up back on the farm with my fucked up family who I had tried to escape from.

I took a year off from college, and got a job to make money so I could afford to go back. My parents were going bankrupt.

It was a bad year.

I was angry about being raped. So I decided to take control of my sexuality. This time I would be the one in control. I was out drinking with my new work friends and I found a guy to start this new adventure with. I had no idea what was going on, really. I told him I wasn?t on birth control and said he couldn?t come inside me. When it was over I said ?You didn?t come inside me, did you?? He told me no.

When I started hemorrhaging eight weeks later I realized he had lied.

So the second time I had sex I got pregnant, had a miscarriage, developed a terrible infection, and had to have surgery. Not really the best one-two intro to sex.

And the timing was unfortunate. Since I was living at home. Taking that year off from college to save up some money. This was bad. I figured if I told my mother the bit about the rape she would understand how I had ended up pregnant. And needed to check into a hospital. Immediately.

She had taken me to her sadistic gynecologist when I started hemorrhaging a few days earlier.

As I bled all over his table he said ?This is what happens when you go opening your legs for men.?

He had given me a prescription to help me expel the remainder of my miscarriage. He neglected to tell me to stay off my feet and recover.

So I continued to work 10-hour days and developed an infection that was turning my skin green. The doctor told me I needed to go to the hospital and have surgery. I called Mom. She was at work and I told her she had to come home.

I had a little clipping from my campus newspaper. A letter to the editor I wrote. I called the rape crisis center when I was depressed and needed help desperately. It took them over two days to return my call.

Little Side Story ? All the women at Syracuse University were talking about my letter to the editor the day it ran. At lunch that day, sitting in the cafeteria with my best friends, they asked me if I read the letter. I said yes, it was good and then just listened. I couldn?t tell any of them it was me. That night, the same rape crisis center called me and bullied me. I?ve never told anyone that. ?We did call you, riiiight?!? ?You?re fine now, aren?t you?? Yeah, totally healed. Thanks for your call. They wrote a reply letter the next day and whitewashed any guilt. ?Blah, blah. We?re great.? ? END of Little Side Story

So when Mom got home, I had her read that little clipping. I didn?t know how else to begin. After she read it she looked at me quizzically. I looked down to avoid her eyes and blurted out ?I wrote that. I got raped when I was home at New Years, and so I was angry and had sex and I got pregnant and now I?m having a miscarriage and need surgery. Can you drive me to the hospital?? I looked up and she was running towards the bathroom.

She ran in, shut the door and started wailing, ?I can?t believe you let yourself get raped. Now all my children have disappointed me.? Over and over. ?I can?t believe you let yourself get raped. ?I can?t believe you let yourself get raped.?

I guess that?s a ?no? for a lift to the hospital?

I packed a small bag and drove myself and checked in. A few hours later Mom showed up with a little stack of religious pamphlets. ?God will forgive you if you pray hard on it.?

She also said something like ?It?s a good thing God gave you a miscarriage. It would have been a shame for you to raise a child when you?re so young.?

A week later I walked up to my younger sister to talk to her. She was on her bike in the driveway. As I got close she looked right at me and said, ?You?re a cunt.? It was like a hard slap to my face.

We had always been close. She was my best friend. It broke my heart.

The National Sexual Assault Hotline is available by phone (800.656.HOPE) and online (online.rainn.org). Talk with someone who is trained to help anytime, 24/7.

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