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Sparkle (0)
This is a blog I never thought I would write. It is actually nothing I have even said out loud to many people in my life. I just want to say now, that this post is in no way about sympathy or attention. I want neither.
I do want women who have lived through the same thing, to know they are not alone. You are not the only one out there who has sucked it in forever, who has felt guilty, even when you know deep inside none of it was your fault.
When you are 15 years old, you have a million demons to fight every day. Being a teenager is hard, harder than any other stage of life I have lived through up to now.
I made bad choices, more than once. We all do when we are teenagers, we are learning and growing and finding our way.
I lived in a very small town, where nearly everyone knew each other. I was innocent and trusting.
I am not going to get into the details of that day, it isn't important. But one day, a boy I barely knew, that was a relative of a family friend, raped me.
After typing those words, I don't really know where to go. What to say or even how it makes me feel.
I have tried my hardest over the years to not feel the guilt that lingers under the surface. I know it wasn't my fault, but I know that if I had done even one or two things differently, I wouldn't have put myself in the position I was in that allowed it to happen.
It never even occured to me at that point in my life, that someone my age would be capable of making me do something I didn't want to do.
I was proven wrong.
It started out as us going to the creek and drinking, a normal thing for us as teenagers. But before that, there had been a group of us. This day there was only two of us.
It was a choice I wish I had made differently. He was a stranger to me. He didn't live in my town, I didn't know him at all. I trusted him, even though I had never been given a reason to. It ended as my mistake.
I had a curfew. I was late. Like really late. I don't ever remember getting in that much trouble before, but once I was a parent I realized that my parents were just worried that I was in trouble, or dead.
I never told them why I was late.
In my teenaged head I was trying to make the outcome end as calmly as possible.
I honestly remember thinking that is was all my fault, and that I would get blamed for everything if I told anyone. I only realized years later how distorted that thinking was.
The bastard that hurt me not only got away with it, but I am pretty sure he probably hurt a friend of mine too, though we never talked about it, I tried to talk her out of hanging around with him, I told her he was bad news, she wouldn't listen. I wish I had just told her what he had done to me.
The day after this all happened, I went to the house he was staying at to confront him. I was furious, I was terrified, I wanted an answer. When I knocked on the door and my friend answered the door, I was terrified for her. I told her to make him come to the door, I knew he was there. She said he didn't want to talk to me.
Really? Fucker.
How totally gutless can a guy be? Firstly, he gets an innocent 15 year old girl drunk, rapes her and then doesn't have the fucking balls to look me in the eye afterward? I didn't understand then, that only cowards rape women...
I don't know why, to this day, at that point I didn't tell someone.
I have always been a loner. My whole life. I have always been proud and self reliant. To a downfall. I should have told someone he hurt me. I might have stopped him from hurting anyone else.
I don't even know how to explain the fact that I didn't say anything to anyone until now. Only two of the men I have been with in my life know about this. Very few of my friends do.
I guess that is what shame does to you, it makes you silent.
The scariest part of this is that
