This is my rape story. It may not be the "forced with a knife" rape, but it's my rape, and that makes it real.
I was 16, and I was staying at someone else's house. My parents were in another country so I got pawned off onto their friends.
I was Mormon and thought nothing of that part of my life, except that I felt unnaturally guilty for things like masturbation and kissing boys.
I knew I was going to have sex. I woke up that morning, took a very serious shower, where I did serious things like shaving everything I could think of, and put on some seriously sexy clothes.
He got there in the late morning, on a brisk October 9, 2006. It was so exciting, seeing him pull his dad's shitty car into the driveway. I felt my heartbeat in my fingertips. I had 2 condoms in my pocket. We left the house and walked about 5 minutes away to the river.
That's when I started second guessing myself. We were walking towards an especially unkempt part of river bank. On one side of us was a chainlink fence, separating us from an abandoned army base. The other side was a walking track, filled with the constant sounds of people walking and talking. We were about 20 feet from the main track, and my heart was beating wildly.
I was filled with regret and remorse for something I hadn't done yet. I didn't want to anymore. I looked him right in the face and said "Please, let's not...I don't want to anymore...I'll suck your cock, I'll do anything else, let's just go?" He looked right back into my face, smiling, and said "No." I pleaded with him, but I guess I wasn't convincing.
The thing with my rape is that I sometimes feel that it doesn't count, because I let him climb on top of me. After I obviously didn't beg hard enough, I took off my pants and lay still while he tried to push his penis into my virgin vagina. It took a lot of tries before it got in, and I just lay still and listened to his stupid, ragged breathing. Then he collapsed on top of me and my hips hurt.
Fuck.
I've decided that this is rape though. Even though it was in broad daylight and I was sober, and I ultimately took off my pants myself, I definitely asked to not do it, and he used the love I thought I had for him as something to be held over me. He shook his head and said no every time I asked to not do it, and that makes it rape. And I don't care if you don't agree.
He's a fucker, and he got worse and worse as time went on. Within a month of that sex, he was calling me and making me tell him what I wore to school, so that he would know whether I was trying to seduce men and cheat on him. And he told me he wanted to marry me and take me away from my family and friends, so they couldn't get to me or change my mind about him.
I hate him, and I always think I'll get over it, but I don't. It's been 5 years, and I still want to smash in his face.
I've won though, because I tell this story to everyone I can, to tell them that this is rape, and they don't need to do anything they don't want to. I hope me sharing my story will tell another person that they are a rape victim, and the feelings they have are there for a reason. Embrace them. They will make you stronger.
So much love to you all.