(TW: Graphic descriptions of rape. pleasepleaseplease if you are triggered by that do not read this. I am leaving nothing out and am going into full detail. Keep yourself safe.)

...I'm not sure if this is the best place to put this, but my therapist said I need to stop bottling up what happened and pretending it didn't occur. So here goes nothing...

I have been writing this for a little over a year. It sits like the last piece of food on a platter. I am too scared to grab for it. I write a paragraph at a time and when I am finished I push away from the computer in a cloud of shame and self-loathing. I am now completing and editing it for the purpose of this entry.

Maybe because I am just now after ten years learning how to cope with this. Maybe because I was too damn stubborn to ask for help (I didn't want to appear 'weak.') Maybe because it happened so suddenly with no provocation. Like how a sudden death will leave a ghost. This act of violence left me dead in my waking hours.

This isn't a unique occurrence. A woman being a survivor of rape and never telling anyone about it. To be a rape survivor is a dangerous thing in a world like ours. You leave yourself open for intense scrutiny 'were you drinking?' 'What were you wearing?' 'Did you lead him on?' 'Did you simply exist as a woman in a patriarchal world where you are viewed as an object?' Women are seen as objects to fuck. We are useless and hollow. I think a shirt I saw a man wearing on the bus the other day perfectly sums this up. 'Women- otherwise known as the useless skin surrounding the vagina.'

I'm not sure how my abuser saw me. Maybe he saw me as an object- useless and hollow. Maybe he saw me as a weak child that he could prey upon. Maybe he was dying and scared and simply acted on some primal impulse. I'll never see him again so I will never know. Truthfully I don't want to know.

I should begin the story now. Stories have a beginning middle and end. This is where it started, although it has never truly ended.

I was fourteen when my eldest sister announced that she had married a former coal miner from Virginia and as such she would be coming for a visit. For the sake of privacy I will refer to him as D. D was a simple man with very little education. He was raised in a household that is tragically common in such a poor town. Abusive father, alcoholic mother. He was forced to work as soon as he could and by the time he was in his twenties he had lived a lifetime of hardships. He wasn't very kind so I don't know what my sister saw in him. My sister is a very forgiving soul and perhaps saw a side to him that we never saw. However soon enough he revealed himself for the monster he was. He beat my sister and on another occasion abandoned her on the side of the road at two am. This all occurred after he abused me. I wish I could have warned her somehow that he was going to betray her in such horrific ways. But I was selfish and thought only of myself. I knew he wad bad first hand but I said nothing.

D never really paid me much mind. I was more worried about him bothering my middle sister who is beautiful beyond words. However he seemed to ignore her for the most part and I'm grateful. He did several times mention casually that he thought I was pretty but that was it. He also laughed at my jokes but that could mean anything.

(Just another warning this is where it starts to get heavy)

It was about a week I think into their visit when I heard a knock on my door sometime in the middle of the night. Annoyed I got up and upon opening my door saw him atanding there in the darkness. He looked vaugley lost like he himself had no idea what he was doing. He asked if he could speak to me and I stepped aside to let him in. This is the part in the horror film where you scream that the killer is in the barn and to run away. But I stood stock still and allowed the killer into my room.

We both sat down on my bed and I stared at him questionably. Why was he bugging me so late? He then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to tag along with them to the movies the coming weekend. I blinked in confusion and said I would. That still didn't answer the burning question of why he was in my room at night.

I went to stand up but he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back to a sitting position. He then leaned in very close to me. I tried to back away but he grabbed my shoulder hard enough to bruise and crashed his lips against mine.

All at once confusion and horror flooded my body. I pushed him back and once again he pressed against me. His tongue wormed into my mouth and I gagged. The taste of spit and cigarette smoke choking me. He shoved me down on my bed and started feeling me up clumsily. Pawing at my breasts and rubbing my nipples through the thin material of my night shirt.

I whimpered in fear and disgust, which he took as a sign of pleasure because his groping hastened and he began trying to remove my shirt. Panicked I held the hem and shook my head. He gave up on that and undid the string of my pajama bottoms, thrusting his hand inside to feel me there.

I bit back a scream of fear and pain as he shoved his finger onto me. I was a virgin at the time and completely unaroused, it felt like the raw scraping sensation of raking a safety pin over your skin. I grabbed his wrist to try and halt his ministrations but he growled at me angrily and with his free hand restrained me as best he could. D then informed me that if I kept quiet and would just relax it wouldn't hurt. I was shaking and struggling to not cry at this point. I still struggled and pushed him away but it was becoming painfully clear that I wasn't going to get out of this. I gave one final kick and begged him to stop before I went limp and let the pain rip through me as he added more fingers. I hate myself for just giving up.

D was obviously pleased by my apparent submission because he began treating me much more gently than before. He was trying to get me to feel something. And much to my anger and self-hatred my body reacted to his touch. I was so angry at myself that I wanted to scream. Why was I feeling this way? Why was I reacting to something so abhorrent? Why why why?

D petted my head and told me how good I felt internally. He complimented both my wetness and the tightness of my vagina. When he said this bile rose in the back of my throat and I let loose a dry choked sob. I just wanted this over with. I just wanted to die. I just wanted...

He ripped his fingers free of my body and wiped them on my thigh, which made me whimper in disgust. He then freed his cock from his pajama bottoms and then pulled down mine and my underwear.

I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I tried to let myself go numb and just drift off but once I felt him prodding at me I was suddenly fully cognizant and aware. All at once he rammed into my body and everything went black. I couldn't even sob or cry out I was just stunned into complete silence. He waited no time before he began a brutal pace that left no time to even come fully back into myself. My nails raked his back and I gritted my teeth. I decided in one last ditch attempt to preserve my dignity I wouldn't cry anymore. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the urge away as best I could.

He breathed heavily into my ear as he rutted on top of me. His heaviness and dampness are burned into my memory. Whenever I have flashbacks I feel him as if he is still there.

He kept asking me over and over if I liked what he was doing. If I was enjoying myself and once again complimented my ability to "take dick" and how tight my vagina was. I struggled to block him out as best I could but I couldn't. I just fucking couldn't. I didn't want to hear his fucked up words or hear his labored breathing anymore.

By now I was in quite a lot of pain. I was bleeding between my legs and I could feel it leaking onto my sheets. I also could feel something else building up inside me. Once felt it my vow to not cry was broken and I openly sobbed.

What I felt were the tell-tale signs of an orgasm.

I was so confused. I hated this...it hurt like hell. It felt like I was being gored. Why was I on the verge of an orgasm?

I lazer-focused on the pain hoping to stop what was happening. But I couldn't. It only took several more moments before I came without my consent.

I buried my face in my hands and forgot dignity as I sobbed. I hated myself more than I ever thought possible. I hated myself so much that I wanted to stab myself in between my legs. I hated myself so much I wanted to die. I wanted...

Luckily for me D followed suite and quickly came inside me. The only way I can describe that sensation is it felt like he puked in me. It was so vile.

As he pulled out he saw my broken state and asked me a question that is still burned into memory. I doubt I will ever forget it.

"Why are you crying?"

He then pulled me close and began rubbing my back in a soothing motion. Because I was a child I let him comfort me and cried bitterly into his shoulder. D told me everything would be okay and said, as if what had happened was totally not fucked up, that is was okay that I liked it and that it would all be okay. I felt so confused. I didn't like it. I was in pain and bloody and crying and...

But I came. Doesn't that mean that I liked it? I didn't know. I was confused and broken and in pain.

When we broke apart he touched me between my legs and I froze. Panic set in. I didn't want to hurt anymore. But he simply swiped at me and held his hand up.

Blood.

"Well at least I know you were a virgin." He sounded smug. "Its okay, you're supposed to bleed like a stuck pig the first time your fucked, that's normal."

Nothing about this situation was normal. I would never be normal. I felt like something in me had rolled over and died.

D pressed a kiss to the top of my head and promptly left. I don't know how long I sat there staring at nothing. Minutes? Hours? Time meant nothing. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

I forced my body to move though it cried out in protest. When I stood on my wobbly legs I almost collapsed.

My sheets were an invariably ground zero of cum and blood. I sighed in annoyance and ripped them free. I then headed to the laundry room and chucked them in the wash, making sure I used hot water and bleach. The bleach would ruin my black sheets but I didn't give a fuck.

After that was squared away I went back to my room to open the window. It smelled of what had occurred and I wanted to air it out. I couldn't light an incense stick so this would have to do.

I ran my hands through my hair and decided that I should probably shower. I gathered up my things and cranked on the hot water. I then proceeded to wash the night down the drain. I just wanted to forget as soon as possible and washing his filth from my body seemed like a good place to start.

I didn't bother to wait for my sheets to dry before I crawled into bed with wet hair and no means to keep myself warm. I was still bleeding and had to use a pad to keep from leaking onto my underwear. I was dimly aware that the bleeding was a bad sign but I couldn't bring myself to care. I just wanted to sleep.

I let my eyes slide closed and blackness pulled me under. I was sleeping at last and I slept like the dead. When my mom woke me for school the next day I asked if I could stay home. My sore body didn't feel like moving.

She said no.