All Rape Survivors, Please Read My Story! Innocence Violated: The Day I Was Raped!
All Rape Survivors, Please Read My Story! Innocence Violated: The Day I Was Raped!
**This is not the post I had planned for today and may not be my usual subject matter, but I felt like discussing this after reading a bit on the wonderful website Band Back Together. A website to share, to be listened to, to relate to, and start healing from. Not just on this topic, but on many!**
It was a warm Summer day in a small town in New York. A place where girls were always good, at least on the cover, and both sexes were always dressed preppy and proper (how dull), and how undull was I? A girl who always sparked her own fashion sense and became oblivious to any chatter it may have caused around me.
I knew who I was. A good Christian girl raised in a dysfunctional family, who was dying to be loved by her parents, and just cared about in general. Someone who got little attention until one day she realized that her sultry new style was now her greatest asset. It was her ticket to the attention so desperately sought. But this girl never predicted any troubles to come.
Naive in my own right, and always believing the best in people, I never thought I’d ever become a victim. Bad things only happen to bad people right? That is an absolutely untrue statement. In fact, if I were to be quite honest in all I’ve personally experienced in life, the opposite rings true. Bad things happen to really GOOD people.
Walking along in this lovely upper-middle class town where bad things just didn’t seem to ever happen, I was approached by a vehicle in broad daylight during my stroll. The guy behind the wheel was in all honesty a stunner. Glowing blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and beautiful white teeth. He was certainly far from what you would expect a monster to look like. I guess I learned from that day forward, exteriors are no indication of what lies beneath a book’s cover. That’s for damn sure!
‘Do you want a ride?’ he asked kindly. ‘No thanks,’ I replied, smiling back at him. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, but thanks a lot though. I like to walk.’ ‘Ok then’, the mysterious man responded, as he drove off into the distance. I continued walking not thinking much of it. A few days later I found myself traveling down the same path, on a like Spring time day. The air was sweet and the sunlight hitting my face even sweeter. My how I loved the warmer months and simply loathed the Winters. Not much has changed on that front.
As I walked along I noticed that same car with the same occupant as days earlier. I wasn’t frightened as I walked on by. Why would I be? As I drew closer, he stepped out of his car and approached me. Naive as I was, I didn’t think a thing still. Just be nice was my way..always. ‘Hi again’, he said. ‘Hello.’ ‘Do you want a ride today?’ ’No thanks. I like to walk. Didn’t I tell you that?’ Small chuckle. He smiled back at me.
The next thing I knew his whole demeanor changed. It was a sudden break from his previous character. I could see something sinister in his eyes and looked around me. The town was quiet. The streets were very oddly quiet. Next thing I knew I was grabbed around the mouth and waist and forced into the passenger seat of this anonymous guy’s car.
In looking back as he sped away, why didn’t I scream loud or freak out right off the bat? I really can’t say. I think I thought that if I played it cool I’d have a better chance of surviving this, and though I didn’t know what would become of me, I truly still do believe some predators live off of others’ fear and weakness, and get a sick thrill out of it. Some kill just to watch a scared person suffer then die, so if I looked as unafraid as possible, might I have the best chance? I guess that is what I was thinking in hindsight.
He drove his car a few towns over and parked his vehicle in an abandoned school yard. I remember the sound of him pulling my seat back as I prayed to God I wouldn’t die that day. I was 15, yes 15 years of age, with lots more life to live. ‘PLEASE see me through this Lord’, I thought to myself.
The man in the Mustang decided to be chatty, telling me about himself, but I couldn’t remember much at the time. I was too frightened, as he proceeded to undo the buttons on my top and looked at me with a certain glow in his eyes. I knew what he was after, though only a child. I was a baby, and now I was going to be pushed into adulthood far too soon.
He was 22. 22 and I was 15. I never had thought of that as being a pedophile of sorts but yeah, looking back that is a world of difference. I believe each teenage year is like 5 years difference, in adult years at least. Why was he doing this to me? Surely he could have a woman, a beautiful one if not more then one. Why was he choosing to hurt ME?
It was all about control I later learned. He didn’t want what he could have, he wanted what was forbidden and he wanted to take it, no asking. I was a conquest and I had in the years after wondered how many more were victims of his were walking around as I was? I’m sure I wasn’t the first, nor the last.
He continued to touch me, groping my breasts. His hands felt cold against my bare body as I wanted to scream, but all that came out of my mouth was , ‘No…please no. Don’t do this.’ I grabbed for the car door latch, but it was auto locked. I had his body pressed hard against mine as he lowered the seat back, so I couldn’t really do much more to try and escape. I then realized as he penetrated my body that if I did fight him I may not get out of this alive.
I didn’t have much to live for at 15 in all honesty. I understandably suffered from depression and anxiety. My life was anything but pretty, but I knew I didn’t want to die. In this situation you don’t know if there is a gun in the glove box, or a knife in his pocket. I succumbed. My body shook as he proceeded to rape me. Time stood still. It’s almost like I escaped my body and went into a safe place where I couldn’t feel the hurt of him stealing my innocence away. But that didn’t last for very long.
Then I felt him leave me. I looked over and saw him wiping off the semen he had collected inside of his hand with a dirty sock, then watched him look up at me with a smile as if he had done nothing abnormal at all. I don’t remember saying a word in response. I was frozen. I just wanted to get home as he started the car and drove away back in the direction of my town.
‘Thank God’, I thought to myself. I’m going to be home soon. I had nobody to talk to there and hold me as I cried, but I did have my pseudo world. A place I always felt safe in, and that is where I lived most of my ‘at home’ life inside. My own pretend life. I think I started that around 6 or so, and yes it continued on into my teens. I think it ended around 16 roughly.
I was Holly Ann Madison. Adored by many. Beautiful, a singer/ song writer, actress and model, a princess no less, a dancer, with parents that loved and doted on me. I always made them so proud. My perfect fantasy life, was anything but in the real world. I thought I was headed home, but yet I was found to be wrong.
The blond man whom I’m sure stupidly told me his first name but I cannot recall, drove off to my town and parked on the side of the local train station behind a dumpster where shockingly for a small, innocent town, without really much of any crime, especially back then… a young woman’s body was found later that month.
I had actually walked right passed that very dumpster the same day her body was found. How creepy? I can imagine how if I had for any reason peeked inside, how traumatized I would have been. It also made me think, ‘Could that have been me if I hadn’t ‘played dead’ and just taken it?’ Who knows?
I saw that look in his eyes and him pulling down his pants again. Was this nightmare ever going to end? Was I going to want to see how the ending played out? I again found myself frozen. Putting my mind into another place as he once again violated me. I couldn’t help at one point but feel pain as he thrusted deeper and deeper inside of me. I let out one little ‘Please no’, and it was over. He finished his ‘job’ and once again wiped up the reminisce of his crime.
I couldn’t help but worry if I possibly had a disease now? AIDS was widely talked about back then in the very early 90′s, and the hypochondriac that I already was thinking after my 1st kiss I may have contracted the disease (yeah, I know), after this incident, I was honestly petrified. He again pulled up his pants and flashed a coy smile as if this act had been consensual all along. In a way he actually made me think for a moment that it was, but I know better now. I said NO, I was kidnapped and violated. Nothing I did was EVER my fault.
A message to others who may feel guilt or uncertainty about their own traumatic experiences. It was never you, it was THEM. They are control freaks who get off on the fear and torment they cause their victims. You are never to blame, no matter how your style of dress, where you are walking, or who people think you are. You are a victim. I was a victim. You don’t have to stay that way for life. But you need to work through things in order to take your power back.
I somehow popped the auto lock on the door as he was dressing himself and knowing that the train station was populated only a 150 or so feet away, I’d be safe there. I used that opportunity to open the door, thankfully successfully this time or who knows what might have been, and literally jumped out of it. My shorts down to my knees still. I tripped after taking my 1st step. Knowing I could easily scream now and get help, he did not dare try and leave the car to retrieve me.
I got myself up off the ground, pulled up my shorts, and raced over the train tracks. I pulled myself up onto the platform in record time. I got to the payphone and though I wanted to call 911, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I knew my parents would somehow blame me for this. I’d be ashamed and never looked at the same way again. I was ruined goods, I felt. I’d be ‘the sinner’, and I knew support would not be waiting for me, and maybe even the cops themselves would say, ‘Look at those shorts. Kind of short, hey?’ Who knew in my 15 year old mind, so I called my friend Jen.
I said, ‘Please, please talk to me while I wait for this man to leave..I’ll explain in a minute.’ I was shaking. Someone on the payphone beside me asked if I was ok and like my usual strong self I replied, ‘I’m fine thank you.’ I’m sure it was apparent I clearly was not. I just wanted to get home to my safe place. My bedroom… where I could lock myself inside and erase this from my mind one painful moment at a time.
I watched the black car remain in the same spot for hours it seemed, but was likely only minutes, and then it pulled away. I breathed a sigh of relief, then confided in the only person I could tell…Jen. She was only 14. Not much she could do to help, but she was on the other line when I needed someone, even if she couldn’t understand what I had been through..it was enough at the time. She asked me if I was going to call the cops. I said, ‘No, everyone will just blame me. I just want to go home and forget about this.’
I waited about an hour or more to leave the station and go home. 1st I walked myself inside the train station and went into the bathroom where I washed myself up as best I could to get his filthy hands and any semen off of me. I then looked up at my reflection. Hair messed, lip gloss on my face not my lips. I wiped it off and pushed my hair back into place as best I possibly could.
During this time I said to myself, ‘Shelly, you are fine. This didn’t happen. It’s over, done with. I’ll think about it no more.’ and I was quite good at the denial thing. I don’t ever think I ever TRULY broke down over it. I’ve learned later in life this is NOT a good way of coping with things and I do not recommend it at all, just to clarify!
Then the next Summer I had been out in the front yard on my dead end street which very few cars drove by, doing my gymnastics, which at the time was like therapy for my soul. I enjoyed it so much. It’s how I released the stress of my awful school and home life. That and through my writing. Things were back to normal, if they were ever normal to begin with. Not your typical ‘normal’ like my husband’s upbringing and my friends which I still envy to this very day. Normal for me.
Then this one steamy day my heart once again fell from my chest as I saw the same black car, blond muscle man inside, driving right down my street. He turned around, and raced back down the street, slowing by my house. ‘Oh my God’, I thought. ‘He knew where I lived.’ I was being stalked. I couldn’t tell my mom or dad. I was still so ashamed and felt dirty about it. I quickly ran inside, and I didn’t play out front ever again.
It didn’t stop him though. There were times I was entering our family caravan and saw him slow by and watch me get into the car with my mom. He had not forgotten about me, though I had fought so hard to submerge the memory of him. I then confided in one friend who was over one day when we were sitting on my front porch and he drove by us.
She was a brutish girl. Very outspoken and wasn’t afraid of anyone. She’d fight someone to death for a friend while I was a quiet, peaceful person, who avoided fights and any confrontation. I just longed to be liked by everybody. She was my opposite. Perhaps, that is why we were such good friends for so long. Opposites attract.
I had a boyfriend at this time. An abusive one, though I didn’t see it as such at that point in time. He grew worse with time, even strangled (not to death), my friend whom I confided about this with, but only because she refused to let him in to see me one day after a big fight, not over this situation.
We kept this one a secret from him, but I certainly fell into the pattern of some bad choices in guys following this event. Was it because of it? Maybe not. With my family as it was, being bullied in school so badly, and having beyond zero self esteem I think it was more all of that then it was the rape. Rapes if you want to be technical about it. It may have contributed, but I’ll never really know.
I told my to keep quiet about the rape, and when that car drove around she started screaming at the guy and chased him down the street. Good ‘ol Amanda. She was fearless. I loved how she fought to protect me. She was the only one who ever had since my grandma died years earlier when I was only 10 and 1/2. She had practically raised me, and was my mother, grandma and best friend all in one, so that was highly traumatic for me, losing her.
What I didn’t know some months later was that my friend did tell my mother whom didn’t say anything to me until she saw the black car come roaming down our block one final time. She stared at the guy, pulled out the cordless phone, and looked as if she was calling the cops. He was never to be seen again, and after 2 years of this it was time now for me to graduate the following month at 17, and head off to college.
My parents finally divorced and sold the home I was raised in, and I never saw that man or that town for that matter, again. I never even felt the urge to go and visit it. I’ve left all the bad memories behind there.
Mom never did console me, nor really discuss the incident. In later years she did try and blame my ‘dress’ for what occurred. I told her I was done with it. Don’t even talk to me. I can’t imagine something like that happening to my own daughter. I’d have killed the guy, called the cops like it or not, and would never ever place the blame on her. NEVER!
Rape is NOBODY’S fault, BUT the rapist himself. This is the moral of my lengthy story here. No matter if your incident was 2 days ago or 20 years ago, the way you were dressed and the place you were in, even if in a bar stone drunk, it is NO excuse for anybody to ever violate you…NEVER! A year later I was raped by my then abusive EX I had decided to FINALLY leave, but he had asked me to go with him somewhere as only friends once last time. I stupidly agreed and 4+ weeks later found out I was pregnant.
I never thought of that as rape till only maybe 5 or 6 years ago. I’m nearly 36 now. I had gone through so much in my life and had such poor instruction and support along the way that I didn’t even realize that what he did to me was just as bad as what that lunatic did to me a few years earlier.
My son, though gone now, is still the best thing that ever happened to me. My mom never believed me one day when I finally told her. Why I don’t know. It was a holiday and I told her how her grandson was conceived after refusing to abort and going through hell alone to keep my child. I had put that all in the past and forgave both my parents for abandoning me. She gave me a ‘yeah right’, and it was never discussed again.
Date rape, even with someone you previously had sex consensually with is STILL RAPE! Don’t think of it as anything less then that please. You are a victim. That doesn’t mean you have to walk around feeling like a victim forever. Do seek support anywhere you can find it. In a good friend, a support group, which now online there are thousands of them, with people who truly understand, and do TALK IT OUT!
Don’t feel guilty if you were like me and didn’t get the cops involved. It’s very scary because you never know how things will get twisted around, and it is extremely frightening to even think about facing your rapist in court. Don’t feel ashamed as if you weren’t strong enough. I applaud those who do go through with getting their perps locked away, but there are many of us who do not do this, especially in a date rape situation when we feel like it is more our fault, but it’s not.
You need to find forgiveness and peace in your heart, somehow, someway. Pray for it if need be, and just remember this always. ‘WHAT GOES AROUND ALWAYS WILL COME AROUND!’ You may say to yourself they got away with it, but NO. Nobody ever gets away with anything. It always catches up with them, and they do get what is coming to them. God always sees to that.
No matter what, my fellow rape survivors out there, you ARE strong, amazing, courageous women, just to be standing and living the life you are living today. Please know you are never alone in this, and if you ever want to talk to someone who ‘gets it’, please don’t ever hesitate to drop me an email, leave a comment below if you wish..ANYTHING at all! I truly believe all I have been through in life is a reason for me to help others. It’s my calling!
They may have tried to control you once, but you control you now. That was for a moment, but you have the control back for a lifetime. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again!
Much love to all my readers (friends.)