My Support Forums - View Single Post - Story of a rape...first time telling the full story!

AtreyuFreak · 05:45 PM

I wrote this a year or so ago; I've never had anyone read it, and I've never discussed this event except to say that it happened. I apologize if this rambles a bit; I'm not used to talking about things like this.

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!

When I was 14, I had a bit of a drinking problem. One of the many times I went to a friends house with the intent of getting completely smashed in mind, there were two people already there who I knew and DID NOT like whatsoever. However, as the disease of addiction goes, I was hell-bent on drinking as much as possible. I did. After about an hour, my friend's mom called. She was a paranoid person, and immediately started accusing my friend of having a party (which she kinda was). Since she was on vacation in another state, she said that she was going to call a neighbor and ask him/her to come to the house and search it for people. Though the neighbor never came, everybody got freaked out and hid in closets. I, along with (ironically enough) the only two people in the house that I couldn't stand, hid in the mom's closet, which was small and cluttered. Because of this, I ended up sitting on the guy's lap (there was a guy and a girl). His hands were all over me, groping and tickling. After a few minutes, my friend said "f*** it" and let us all come out of our hiding spaces. The majority of the six or eight people there crowded onto my friend's bed to share a dime bag of weed (which I've since given up, so no lectures please). This guy and I were the last two left, splitting the res (which is like the tar that's left in the pipe, in case you didn't know). After he got his fill, I went to work scraping the stuff, which I was REALLY frickin' good at, and he went back to being way too friendly. I was drunk, stoned, and frustrated with my boyfriend's virginity, so I didn't exactly object to his advances. We just messed around at first, making out while he did some "heavy petting", if you will. But suddenly he was yanking of his pants and mine, and going much further than I wanted to (and you can't go much further than he did, hence the term "all the way"). I started freaking the f*** out, slurring out "wait", "no", "stop", but my voice wouldn't allow me to scream and, though I know he heard me, he didn't obey. He did, however, manage to pin my arms and weigh down my legs and chest with the weight of his. All I could do is scratch him, hard enough to draw blood...the creep probably enjoyed it. After a few minutes I just stopped resisting and willed myself to dissociate, so I really don't remember most of it. After what seemed like hours but was probably only 15 minutes, a couple other guys walked in, and he jumped off me. I stumbled around for my clothes, holding the bed sheet to me to keep what remained of my dignity. I dressed faster than I'd ever done before, and immediately ran outside. I sat on the front step, bummed a cigarette from one of the guys who walked in on the scene and understood EXACTLY what had happened, and called my mother to come get me. It was almost one in the morning and my mother is a control freak, so that should indicate how upset I was. I told her that my friend's dad, who was a total drunk, had come home and he and his buddies were intoxicated and hitting on the teenage girls. I went home, showered until the water turned cold, and took way too many sleeping pills, half hoping I'd never wake up. For the longest time, I never told anyone. By the time I reported it, all evidence was gone and none of the others remembered much. I did find out that after he was done with me, this same guy (who was 19 at the time) raped four other girls within about 3 years; I, at 14, had been the OLDEST of all of them. The worst part is that he’d gotten me pregnant; after about six weeks, probably because of my continued (and noticeably increased) drinking habit, I miscarried. Had it lived, I’d have a two-year and 10 month old child right now.

This event did have one very positive result: it got me to quit drinking. In my mind, it happened because I was too drunk to fight him off. I don’t know that I’d have wanted to quit had this not happened. It took me a little while to quit the weed and painkillers, but I’d never much liked weed and painkillers were in short supply and much too expensive for me. I heard recently that there are 6 factors that make someone an addict:

Has a family history of addiction/alcoholism. Alcoholism runs deep in my family; my grandfather had a horrible battle with it when my mother and her siblings were growing up.
Were aggressive or destructive at an early age. Because of the CSA, I was a very angry child. Always got into fights, was constantly getting detentions and suspensions in grade school.
Has lived in a home where people abuse drugs/alcohol. My mother had a rather serious drinking problem for a few years, but she was a “high-functioning” drunk.
Started drinking or using drugs at an early age. I started drinking at 13; pills at 14-ish. Not sure if that’s early or not, but it’s not exactly late.
Has a friend who drinks/uses drugs. Many of my old friends (before I cut myself off from that crowd) drank almost as much as me, supported my pill habit, and dabbled in other things (including heroin and coke which, thankfully, I never touched).
Has an untreated emotional or mental health disorder. Okay, this one can definitely not be me…oh sh**, yes it can!

“The more risk factors a child has, the greater the risk of addiction.” A peer’s mom came into my psych class the other day; she works at a local jail running groups like Occupational Therapy and such, and many of her “patients” are addicts. She showed us these risk factors; the sinking feeling in my gut got worse with each one I read. She said at the end something along the lines of, “If someone has all of these risk factors, it is a VERY hard thing for them not to become an addict.” At that moment I didn’t know whether to feel immense pride for what I’ve accomplished, shame that I’ve experienced this at such a young age, or terror at the fact that I’ll have to battle addiction for the rest of my life. But right now, I’m very happy I don’t need that s*** anymore. Now I can’t even stand the taste of hard liquor, and (I feel that) my sobriety is rock-solid. I can honestly say that getting sober is the best thing I’ve ever done.

Just goes to show that even (one of) the worst things in your life can have a positive result...and explains why I'm always so f***ing confused.