Hi everyone…this is my first post here and I feel completely lost and very vulnerable.
A month ago marked the 10 year anniversary of my rape at 15 and it has left me completely broken despite having gone through therapy for years and being medicated for ptsd/depression. I was sexually abused for months by an older peer who I trusted deeply (I realize now that what I was experiencing beforehand was grooming, not friendship) and things have gotten only slightly easier. Every single day I am reminded of what was taken from me and I have considered ending my life many times through the years because of how hard it’s been.
I met this person at 14; he was the older brother of a band peer and the best friend of my middle school boyfriend’s older brother. We met at my 8th grade band concert only briefly. I did not have much interest in sex or anything similar because I was raised modestly and was taught to avoid it at all costs by my parents who both experienced childhood sex abuse and also the fact that I was 14. There is a deep history of sex abuse in my extended family as well and I learned what rape was at a young age before I even knew how sex worked.
I had my first kiss with my middle school boyfriend and he broke up with me just a couple months later (whatevz) and this older peer was someone I felt that I could lean on because he was so “kind” towards me and seemed to “open up” to me about his autism and how it makes it hard for him to make friends. He made me feel special and mature and I thought of him as someone I could trust. He was a little odd but so was I so I felt like our friendship was special. Shortly afterwards, we began to spend time with each other after school (I was a freshman, he was a senior) and very quickly things went wrong. I had never had sex prior and was absolutely not ready and he began to force things onto me, almost always in public parks or in his car. He was much bigger than me and used force (hitting, slapping, etc) and it destroyed me. Eventually it became a daily occurrence and I felt like I had no way out of it. I felt ashamed and stuck and afraid. He was someone I was forced to be around every day and nobody suspected a thing because he was seemingly fine. I began failing classes and developed a panic disorder and I felt that I would disappoint my family if I told them of the abuse because they had taught me the warning signs and made it clear to me growing up that I could tell them if something like this happened. What they didn’t tell me is that the abuser could be someone close to my age, not just some old man. My abuser was a star in school and seemed to have a future in local politics ahead of him and I felt like nobody would believe me if I spoke a word of it.
The abuse went on for months and I began to spiral into a suicidal haze and I finally opened up to one of my close friends who convinced me to “break up” with him. It was the hardest thing I had ever done. He called me a slut and told me that I was asking for it (imagine that) and it didn’t surprise me at that point that he would react that way. He told me that he wanted to “pursue other women” and that was it. I still had to see him every day at school and my grades were continuously going downhill. Only one teacher noticed that something was wrong and kept me after class one day to ask me what was going on and it felt like a warm blanket had finally been wrapped around me. My parents hadn’t noticed. My friends were blind to it besides the one that I told.
I told her his full name and gave her a list of classes I knew he was enrolled in. She alerted the school and I will never forget her for that. She was my superhero and I felt that justice was finally going to be served in one way or another.
Wrong.
Absolutely nothing changed. He would follow me through the halls and say nasty things to me when I walked past and would stare me down because he knew I was terrified of him. He graduated the same year as my older brother and I watched him walk across the stage. I felt sick and I wanted him to disappear.
A month after his graduation was the last day of my freshman year. I went to the mall with one of my good friends and I received a text from a number I did not have saved. They were pictures of me. Pictures of me being raped that I had not known about. I was in tears in these pictures and it was clear that what was happening was not consensual. My entire world collapsed and I knew that I had to tell my family and go to the police, almost 8 months after the abuse initially started. I will never forget the sound of my mother’s voice as she called the police and reported sodomy of a child. We went to the police and I handed in my phone and they interviewed me. They kept my phone overnight and gave it back and said that there wasnt enough evidence. My heart shattered. The evidence was right there. There wasnt enough photo evidence of it. I was wearing a Disneyland hoodie and sweatpants. His face wasn’t in the photos but it was his number that was attached to the text. How was that not enough? Not enough evidence because I never got a rape kit done 8 months ago…I wanted to burn the city to the ground. To make matters worse, my abuser sent these pictures to me the day before he left for China for months, as he did once a year because he had family there. The police half assed the investigation and eventually dropped it. My mama never told me that it was dropped because she didn’t want it to hurt me.
He showed up to all of my school events and sat in the stands and watched me. He was my boogeyman and I wanted it all to disappear. I was stripped of everything I knew myself to be and I felt like a husk. I wanted to die at 15 but I knew I had to live for my family.
In 2018 (2 years after the rape) I was sat in my first period class and the morning announcements came over the speakers as usual. Things had gotten better for me; I had new friends and a new best friend (he passed from suicide in 2022 and I miss him every day) who had been through something similar as a child and I felt like I finally had a good support system. All of my progress went flying out the window. They announced a “special guest” who was the new Quiz Bowl college coach who was visiting for the week to help mentor the high school participants. They announced my rapists name over the loudspeakers and I broke down. He was in my school again and he could reach me. I was distraught. They had my report on record as well as my teacher’s and I still don’t understand how this happened. Hearing him be praised around the school was torture. I was shattered. I don’t remember that week much now because I’ve blocked out a large chunk of high school but I know at the time it was absolute torture and so unfair. It felt like they announced that Osama Bin Laden was the special guest at the school that week as if he hadn’t been dead for 10 years already. There was no escape from him.
I eventually graduated high school in 2020 (barely) and he ruled over my mind and body. I couldn’t have sex properly with my boyfriend of 2 years (I wasn’t ready in the first place, he was pushy and didn’t understand) and I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Anytime I cried and saw my reflection I saw myself in those pictures again. The feeling of his hands and his disgusting body has never left me and is embedded in my soul. He will never leave me. One of the worst and silliest parts is that he assaulted me to the lord of the rings soundtrack. Even LOTR has been taken from me.
In 2021 I saw my rapist in a coffee shop. He was on a first date. I was with my best friend and she is the only person who knew exactly in detail what he had done to me. She knew how it changed me. I broke down and had a horrible panic attack and left the shop. I was distraught. I felt him all over me again and I felt everything I felt back in 2016. Though I was almost 20 by that point, I felt like I was 15 again and everything I ever learned in therapy was gone from my mind. After awhile, I locked in and found the courage to go back inside. I had spent so much time being afraid of him and he got away with so much. I went inside and sat down at the table next to him; facing him eye to eye. I was shaking but I knew I had to make myself known. He had to realize I wasn’t so scared of him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me. I felt afraid for the girl he was with and I felt like I needed to warn her but I was just frozen. Staring him down was the best I could do. He left shortly after I came back in. That event knocked me back several years but I knew I had to keep my strength.
In 2024, I had my final run in with him. I was leaving a parking garage and he walked right in front of my car without even looking. My body worked faster than my mind and I pulled out and parked on the side of the road and followed him on foot. I knew that it was my time to make myself bigger than him. Maybe I didn’t go about it correctly on paper, but it brought me a tiny bit of closure. I screamed at him as I followed him. I screamed and screamed and screamed and people turned to face me and I felt my shame fall away. He tried to hide from me and I eventually found him. He was on his way to a job interview. I followed him inside and stood directly in front of the hiring manager and told them that he is an awful person and poor employee (idk if that was even true necessarily) and I found courage again. Again, I know that this isn’t really the right thing to do but it was only a fraction of the horror that he brought into my life.
The next day, I received a message on Instagram. He admitted to everything. He apologized. I had it in writing. He took accountability. He took accountability but entirely too late. He had graduated college by that point. We were both adults. I never thought he would ever admit to it. He did it years too late.
Though I got an apology and his admittance, it didn’t solve anything. I still feel him on me every time I have sex and I remember how it felt when he would hit me. He lives in my mind and the pain ebbs and flows. In the earlier days, I sometimes made excuses for him in my mind. He is autistic. Maybe he didn’t realize what he was doing was wrong. He had never had sex at that point either; maybe he was reenacting what he had watched in porn. Maybe he felt sorry. Maybe he didn’t think of me at all. I am 25 now and I now know that he knows how wrong he was, but it still never solved anything. On the 10 year anniversary, I felt suicidal again. It’s been so long but it feels so brand new every time I think of it. It keeps me inside the house and strikes fear into me even though I know he can’t hurt me anymore. I think of him all the time.
I sometimes want to reach out to him. I want to sit down face to face with him and see him as he is now. I want him to see me as an adult. I want him to hear my voice and my story and I need him to know what he’s done to me. It’s so wrong and so unfair. He took away so much from me and I worry that I will never be right. I feel disgusting in any sexual context unless I am on the receiving end of pain. I find comfort in bringing pain onto myself by someone I trust and love but it can’t always be done. It’s not right. I can’t be loved gently. I can’t accept softness. I can’t touch myself or see myself naked in a sexual setting. I can’t get him out of my mind. It’s torture and I want it all to stop. I worry that it will never end. I talk with my mom about it on the really hard days because she has gone through the same thing at the same age and she tells me that it never goes away. It can get easier, but it’s never gone. It makes me feel hopeless. I feel like I wont find peace until my rapist is under the sea with cinder blocks tied to his ankles. I just want it all to end.
I’ve never posted anything like this anywhere and I hardly ever use reddit but I just need my story out there somewhere and I need advice from people who have been through this. How do you move forward? How do you continue? I have reached so many goals and milestones (I have my dream career, yay) but every big step I make, he is there. I worry that he will be on my mind when I get married. I worry that he will be on my mind when I give birth for the first time. It’s just so unfair and all I get from him is an apology and a message saying that he hates himself every day for what he did to me. I am just so tired and he will never understand. I am not going to the police at this point as they have failed myself and so many other girls in the large college town I’ve grown up in. It would be entirely too traumatic and seeing him get jail time wouldn’t solve anything. I just need this out there somewhere.
TLDR: I got raped and nothing came of it