Post by rachelk on Nov 30, 2012 17:40:36 GMT -5
The guy, I'll call him Steven (not his real name), and I were good friends since we were small kids. We always just managed to seem to be around each other. We were in the same classes over and over again. He and I always seemed to hang around together.
In high school Steven kept asking me out. I mostly thought it was a joke or something. I just thought of him as a friend and that was that. I have always been a big girl and never thought of myself as being pretty. I was adventurous for my teen years and even got into drinking a little, mostly beer.
Finally during the summer before our senior year, Steven wore me down. I was 16 and only had like 2 or 3 dates. I agreed to go out with him. We went to a drive in movie then grabbed drive through and went for a drive. We were in Steven's car. He took us out to the levee overlooking the river and we ate and talked. I was excited about picking a college. I guess I was so excited that I wasn't paying much attention to Steven. He told me he probably would just be going to work for his dad. We'd finished eating, got out of his car and sat and looked at the stars. I said something about needing to get home because I wasn't supposed to be out too late. Steven said he'd take me back shortly. Before I knew it, he was all over me. He was kissing at me and pulling at my shirt. I thought he was just fooling around at first. Then he got my top off and began groping my breasts. That's when I finally figured out he was serious. I began yelling at him, telling him to get off me and leave me alone. He didn't stop. He was so strong, much stronger than I'd expected. I was a big girl, strong myself, and thought I could fight him off. I was such an idiot because I told myself I didn't want to hurt him, just get him off of me. Then he started trying to open my jeans. That's when I freaked out. I started cursing him and shouting. He still wouldn't stop. He got my jeans and panties down when I was trying to crawl away from him.
I can honestly say it hurt more than anything I'd been through before or since. He pinned my arms over my head and forced himself into me. I was crying and begging for him to stop. When he spoke at all he called me names like you wouldn't believe. He was through pretty quickly.
I was a mess. I lay there crying, for how long I don't know. Suddenly I think he figured out how much trouble he was in. He offered to help me up. I punched him in the face, kicked him and ordered him to take me home. I was going to tell my brothers (6 of them), my father and the police. Now he was crying and begging me not to tell. He said I would ruin his life, assuming he survived what my family would do to him. I honestly didn't care. I wished him dead. I was trembling from anger. Then he began begging for me to calm down. When I finally collected myself and got my clothes back on, I told him again to take me home. He said he would, but only if I would have a beer with him and talk to him. He told me he'd made a mistake and messed up. He told me he truly thought this was what I wanted. At first I told him what he could do with his beer and what he thought. Then he said he wouldn't take me home until I had at least 1 beer with him. We were miles from my house, this was way before cell phones and I wasn't 100% sure I could even find my way home. I finally relented, took the beer he offered and drank it down fast.
I remember him talking. He was telling me how much he always liked me and thought, just maybe, we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't remember much after that. I know I started feeling sick and woozy. The last thing I remember was his car was moving.
I woke up what I would later figure out was about 4 hours later. I was laying against the tire of his car. We were still out in the woods. Every inch of my body hurt. My jaws ached, my stomach ached from throwing up I guess. I worked my jaw. My lips were parched, I remember, and my mouth had a dry film inside it. I swallowed then got sick again. Looking around I realized I was naked and sitting on the ground. I heard voices. My arms and hands hurt as I reached for my top. I could barely bend to pull my jeans and underwear up. Looking up I saw Steven and 2 of his friends. They were sitting on the hood of Steven's car. As I recall, they were laughing.
I was a virgin, before Steven had raped me. I was totally inexperienced sexually. The farthest I'd ever gone was to kiss a boy. Even so, I realized I'd been repeatedly raped vaginally, anally and probably orally. I could barely breath.
One of Steven's friends saw me and set a can of beer on the hood in front of me. I didn't drink it. I was so scared. I knew what they'd done to me. I was now afraid they'd kill me and leave me there in the woods. I begged Steven to just take me home. His friends made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone. They told me if I did, they would do this again and this time they'd make sure I never woke up. I took the threat very seriously.
Steven drove us around for a while and I had to perform oral sex on his 2 friends. Finally they pulled down the road to my house. They slowed the car to a slow roll, opened the door and pushed me out. I fell, rolled several times, got up and ran into the house.
I told no one.
Each day that passed felt like a piece of me was being torn away. I had no sense of dignity or self worth. By the time school started, I moved from drinking the occasional beer to harder liquor and even drugs. My concoction of choice was cocaine and pure grain alcohol mixed with watermelon punch.
I still told no one.
Finally my oldest brother (I was the youngest of the 7 of us) wouldn't let it go. He nagged, yelled and berated me until I broke. I told him just about everything. For some reason I left out the part about what I had to do on the drive back home. He demanded I tell our parents. Mom and dad were fighting because mom had enough out of me. Dad didn't want to give up. I was in danger of flunking out of school because I was skipping class so much.
2 things happened then.
#1 - Steven and his 2 friends suddenly weren't in school for over a week. When Steven did come back, he had obviously been beaten badly. His 2 friends never returned. Word was they moved away.
#2 - I finally told my mom.
I've never seen her cry like that. She knew something was wrong. She was angry at me for not telling her and angry at herself for not knowing. We cried together, yelled at each other, screamed and cried some more. Finally mom told me that she, also, had been raped while in high school. The man that raped her was an uncle by marriage who I'd never heard of and had died years ago.
I'd love to say everything was good from then on.
It wasn't.
My self esteem, the image I had of myself, was still pretty awful. I kept dating, kept drinking, though I did back away from drugs. My grades improved, a little anyway. Mostly I was still so desperate to find self worth that I was sexually active. I needed to feel like I was at least worth having sex with.
The low point came during my freshman year at college. I was still drinking heavily. I had a guy from my math class ask me out. He was so freaking dreamy, I couldn't believe my luck. I was so excited my feet didn't touch the ground. Friday night came and he picked me up at my dorm. We walked to the party he'd invited me to. The evening went so well. I kept waiting on him to kiss me. I went to the buffet table to get something to eat and didn't see him when I came back. I went looking for him.
Finally he found me outside the house. He told me I should just go back to my dorm room. He confessed that I'd been invited to what he called a "pig party". It was an initiation for the frat he was pledging to. Each pledge was to bring a fat, ugly girl to the party. The winner was the one that brought the ugliest, fattest girl to the party. Extra points were given if the pledge could get his date into bed. My "date" told me he couldn't go through with it. He said he thought I was a great girl and he really liked me, but only as a friend. I can still remember the look on his face when he told me he had zero interest in me physically.
I cried all the way back to the dorm. I just wanted to die. I honestly thought of ways to kill myself. I finished off a bottle of peppermint schnapps, which made me so sick I couldn't stand.
I left school. I called my oldest brother, who also happened to be my best friend in the world, and told him if I stayed at school I was literally going to kill myself. He met me and took me to his house. I stayed with him for a couple of days. He finally talked me into going back to school, but also that I would promise to start seeing a counselor. I kept my word and started seeing a local therapist.
3 months to the day after the "pig party", my brother took me to a rodeo. I always loved the rodeo and it always cheered me up. I met a guy, Bill, standing in line at the concession stand. We started talking and, come to find out, he was one of the riders. We exchanged phone numbers. He was just breaking onto the professional rodeo circuit, so reaching him by mail was all but impossible. But most nights we would talk by phone. We dated when we could. I would write short notes and letter to him and give them to him to read when he was on the road. A year later Bill asked my father's permission to propose to me. For those that would have a problem with this, please understand this was how I was raised and, thankfully, so was Bill. My dad reluctantly agreed. About a year later, Bill and I got married.
He stayed on the road while I finished school. I traveled with him during the summer and after graduation. I got a job, Bill started working for my dad and, eventually, we got our own place.
Bill and I now have 4 kids, all boys. We are partners and co-owners of our business. He's listed as the CEO, I'm the CFO.
Last year my minister approached me. Among his pastoral duties, he serves as the minister to our local hospital. He came to my house and asked me if I knew someone named Steven. I guess the look on my face confirmed it. Anyway, he proceeded to tell me Steven's story.
Steven dropped out of high school. He'd run his family's business into the ground and was basically broke. He had 2 ex-wives and 4 kids. What family he had left had either moved away or was in jail. Steven had been in and out of jail several times. His ex-wives hated him and his kids didn't know him. In short, there was no one who cared if he was alive or dead. Steven was now in the hospital with an inoperable brain tumor. He told my pastor he had about 6 months to live. Privately, Steven's doctor told my pastor that it would be a miracle if he lived 6 weeks.
Steven wanted to see me. This is a small town and everyone pretty much knows everyone else's business. Steven knew what church we attended. He told my pastor only that long ago we'd been friends and that he'd betrayed that friendship and hurt me greatly. All he wanted to do was apologize. My pastor, no dummy himself, hesitated to even tell me about it because, he surmised, this was going well beyond the call of duty. His final word was that, if I went, he'd be there with me and that one way or the other, he wouldn't bring the matter up again.
My husband, Bill, knew the entire story. When I brought the subject up, he freaked.
A lot.
He yelled.
A lot.
He called my oldest brother and the 2 of them basically started plotting to go into the hospital and finish Steven off themselves.
I finally talked them out of it. Bill demanded that I wasn't even to CONSIDER going to the hospital. However, that's exactly what I WAS doing.
I am so undeserving of the grace and love I've been given. I could be dead and deserve worse for all the sin I've committed in my life. I abused my body, God's gift to me and me alone. I hurt those who loved me so much. I did things that not only were sinful, but were down right dangerous.
Yet I'm forgiven.
For 5 days I stewed on this. I was so conflicted. The earthly part of me agreed with Bill and my brother. Whatever Steven's plight was, whatever he was going through, it was a self inflicted wound. He was a player who ran with multiple women broke the law just about most of his life. Nevermind the fact that he was a rapist.
I couldn't let it go.
Over Bill's heated objections, I went. I had my minister with me. As I'd been assured, and told Bill as well, Steven, for all intents and purposes, wasn't physically capable of hurting a kitten. I am almost ashamed to admit that I was even worried about that. Bill refused to go with me and it would lead to stress in our marriage for a few weeks.
Steven looked so pitiful. He had tubes running in and out of his body. His portion of the ward smelled awful and it was all him. His eyes were yellow and one was so bloodshot it looked rotten. He could barely talk. So I did most of the talking. He tried to ask me how I was and what was going on in my life. With the kindest voice I could manage, I told him that was none of his business. I was there to talk about what happened and nothing else.
Steven told me he used to lie to himself and tell him that it was all his friends doing, that it was their idea. And in fact, the group rape was. But his attack on me was all his idea. He told me that he hated himself and couldn't believe that God could ever forgive him. What hatred of this vile creature I had was replaced with pity.
Anyway we talked some more, then I left. Bill and I had some making up to do. Even to this day, we can't speak of this without it being a problem. He still can't understand my need to forgive Steven. I'd moved on with my life, prospered not only professionally, but personally and especially spiritually. He can't understand it, but he has accepted it.
In high school Steven kept asking me out. I mostly thought it was a joke or something. I just thought of him as a friend and that was that. I have always been a big girl and never thought of myself as being pretty. I was adventurous for my teen years and even got into drinking a little, mostly beer.
Finally during the summer before our senior year, Steven wore me down. I was 16 and only had like 2 or 3 dates. I agreed to go out with him. We went to a drive in movie then grabbed drive through and went for a drive. We were in Steven's car. He took us out to the levee overlooking the river and we ate and talked. I was excited about picking a college. I guess I was so excited that I wasn't paying much attention to Steven. He told me he probably would just be going to work for his dad. We'd finished eating, got out of his car and sat and looked at the stars. I said something about needing to get home because I wasn't supposed to be out too late. Steven said he'd take me back shortly. Before I knew it, he was all over me. He was kissing at me and pulling at my shirt. I thought he was just fooling around at first. Then he got my top off and began groping my breasts. That's when I finally figured out he was serious. I began yelling at him, telling him to get off me and leave me alone. He didn't stop. He was so strong, much stronger than I'd expected. I was a big girl, strong myself, and thought I could fight him off. I was such an idiot because I told myself I didn't want to hurt him, just get him off of me. Then he started trying to open my jeans. That's when I freaked out. I started cursing him and shouting. He still wouldn't stop. He got my jeans and panties down when I was trying to crawl away from him.
I can honestly say it hurt more than anything I'd been through before or since. He pinned my arms over my head and forced himself into me. I was crying and begging for him to stop. When he spoke at all he called me names like you wouldn't believe. He was through pretty quickly.
I was a mess. I lay there crying, for how long I don't know. Suddenly I think he figured out how much trouble he was in. He offered to help me up. I punched him in the face, kicked him and ordered him to take me home. I was going to tell my brothers (6 of them), my father and the police. Now he was crying and begging me not to tell. He said I would ruin his life, assuming he survived what my family would do to him. I honestly didn't care. I wished him dead. I was trembling from anger. Then he began begging for me to calm down. When I finally collected myself and got my clothes back on, I told him again to take me home. He said he would, but only if I would have a beer with him and talk to him. He told me he'd made a mistake and messed up. He told me he truly thought this was what I wanted. At first I told him what he could do with his beer and what he thought. Then he said he wouldn't take me home until I had at least 1 beer with him. We were miles from my house, this was way before cell phones and I wasn't 100% sure I could even find my way home. I finally relented, took the beer he offered and drank it down fast.
I remember him talking. He was telling me how much he always liked me and thought, just maybe, we could be boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't remember much after that. I know I started feeling sick and woozy. The last thing I remember was his car was moving.
I woke up what I would later figure out was about 4 hours later. I was laying against the tire of his car. We were still out in the woods. Every inch of my body hurt. My jaws ached, my stomach ached from throwing up I guess. I worked my jaw. My lips were parched, I remember, and my mouth had a dry film inside it. I swallowed then got sick again. Looking around I realized I was naked and sitting on the ground. I heard voices. My arms and hands hurt as I reached for my top. I could barely bend to pull my jeans and underwear up. Looking up I saw Steven and 2 of his friends. They were sitting on the hood of Steven's car. As I recall, they were laughing.
I was a virgin, before Steven had raped me. I was totally inexperienced sexually. The farthest I'd ever gone was to kiss a boy. Even so, I realized I'd been repeatedly raped vaginally, anally and probably orally. I could barely breath.
One of Steven's friends saw me and set a can of beer on the hood in front of me. I didn't drink it. I was so scared. I knew what they'd done to me. I was now afraid they'd kill me and leave me there in the woods. I begged Steven to just take me home. His friends made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone. They told me if I did, they would do this again and this time they'd make sure I never woke up. I took the threat very seriously.
Steven drove us around for a while and I had to perform oral sex on his 2 friends. Finally they pulled down the road to my house. They slowed the car to a slow roll, opened the door and pushed me out. I fell, rolled several times, got up and ran into the house.
I told no one.
Each day that passed felt like a piece of me was being torn away. I had no sense of dignity or self worth. By the time school started, I moved from drinking the occasional beer to harder liquor and even drugs. My concoction of choice was cocaine and pure grain alcohol mixed with watermelon punch.
I still told no one.
Finally my oldest brother (I was the youngest of the 7 of us) wouldn't let it go. He nagged, yelled and berated me until I broke. I told him just about everything. For some reason I left out the part about what I had to do on the drive back home. He demanded I tell our parents. Mom and dad were fighting because mom had enough out of me. Dad didn't want to give up. I was in danger of flunking out of school because I was skipping class so much.
2 things happened then.
#1 - Steven and his 2 friends suddenly weren't in school for over a week. When Steven did come back, he had obviously been beaten badly. His 2 friends never returned. Word was they moved away.
#2 - I finally told my mom.
I've never seen her cry like that. She knew something was wrong. She was angry at me for not telling her and angry at herself for not knowing. We cried together, yelled at each other, screamed and cried some more. Finally mom told me that she, also, had been raped while in high school. The man that raped her was an uncle by marriage who I'd never heard of and had died years ago.
I'd love to say everything was good from then on.
It wasn't.
My self esteem, the image I had of myself, was still pretty awful. I kept dating, kept drinking, though I did back away from drugs. My grades improved, a little anyway. Mostly I was still so desperate to find self worth that I was sexually active. I needed to feel like I was at least worth having sex with.
The low point came during my freshman year at college. I was still drinking heavily. I had a guy from my math class ask me out. He was so freaking dreamy, I couldn't believe my luck. I was so excited my feet didn't touch the ground. Friday night came and he picked me up at my dorm. We walked to the party he'd invited me to. The evening went so well. I kept waiting on him to kiss me. I went to the buffet table to get something to eat and didn't see him when I came back. I went looking for him.
Finally he found me outside the house. He told me I should just go back to my dorm room. He confessed that I'd been invited to what he called a "pig party". It was an initiation for the frat he was pledging to. Each pledge was to bring a fat, ugly girl to the party. The winner was the one that brought the ugliest, fattest girl to the party. Extra points were given if the pledge could get his date into bed. My "date" told me he couldn't go through with it. He said he thought I was a great girl and he really liked me, but only as a friend. I can still remember the look on his face when he told me he had zero interest in me physically.
I cried all the way back to the dorm. I just wanted to die. I honestly thought of ways to kill myself. I finished off a bottle of peppermint schnapps, which made me so sick I couldn't stand.
I left school. I called my oldest brother, who also happened to be my best friend in the world, and told him if I stayed at school I was literally going to kill myself. He met me and took me to his house. I stayed with him for a couple of days. He finally talked me into going back to school, but also that I would promise to start seeing a counselor. I kept my word and started seeing a local therapist.
3 months to the day after the "pig party", my brother took me to a rodeo. I always loved the rodeo and it always cheered me up. I met a guy, Bill, standing in line at the concession stand. We started talking and, come to find out, he was one of the riders. We exchanged phone numbers. He was just breaking onto the professional rodeo circuit, so reaching him by mail was all but impossible. But most nights we would talk by phone. We dated when we could. I would write short notes and letter to him and give them to him to read when he was on the road. A year later Bill asked my father's permission to propose to me. For those that would have a problem with this, please understand this was how I was raised and, thankfully, so was Bill. My dad reluctantly agreed. About a year later, Bill and I got married.
He stayed on the road while I finished school. I traveled with him during the summer and after graduation. I got a job, Bill started working for my dad and, eventually, we got our own place.
Bill and I now have 4 kids, all boys. We are partners and co-owners of our business. He's listed as the CEO, I'm the CFO.
Last year my minister approached me. Among his pastoral duties, he serves as the minister to our local hospital. He came to my house and asked me if I knew someone named Steven. I guess the look on my face confirmed it. Anyway, he proceeded to tell me Steven's story.
Steven dropped out of high school. He'd run his family's business into the ground and was basically broke. He had 2 ex-wives and 4 kids. What family he had left had either moved away or was in jail. Steven had been in and out of jail several times. His ex-wives hated him and his kids didn't know him. In short, there was no one who cared if he was alive or dead. Steven was now in the hospital with an inoperable brain tumor. He told my pastor he had about 6 months to live. Privately, Steven's doctor told my pastor that it would be a miracle if he lived 6 weeks.
Steven wanted to see me. This is a small town and everyone pretty much knows everyone else's business. Steven knew what church we attended. He told my pastor only that long ago we'd been friends and that he'd betrayed that friendship and hurt me greatly. All he wanted to do was apologize. My pastor, no dummy himself, hesitated to even tell me about it because, he surmised, this was going well beyond the call of duty. His final word was that, if I went, he'd be there with me and that one way or the other, he wouldn't bring the matter up again.
My husband, Bill, knew the entire story. When I brought the subject up, he freaked.
A lot.
He yelled.
A lot.
He called my oldest brother and the 2 of them basically started plotting to go into the hospital and finish Steven off themselves.
I finally talked them out of it. Bill demanded that I wasn't even to CONSIDER going to the hospital. However, that's exactly what I WAS doing.
I am so undeserving of the grace and love I've been given. I could be dead and deserve worse for all the sin I've committed in my life. I abused my body, God's gift to me and me alone. I hurt those who loved me so much. I did things that not only were sinful, but were down right dangerous.
Yet I'm forgiven.
For 5 days I stewed on this. I was so conflicted. The earthly part of me agreed with Bill and my brother. Whatever Steven's plight was, whatever he was going through, it was a self inflicted wound. He was a player who ran with multiple women broke the law just about most of his life. Nevermind the fact that he was a rapist.
I couldn't let it go.
Over Bill's heated objections, I went. I had my minister with me. As I'd been assured, and told Bill as well, Steven, for all intents and purposes, wasn't physically capable of hurting a kitten. I am almost ashamed to admit that I was even worried about that. Bill refused to go with me and it would lead to stress in our marriage for a few weeks.
Steven looked so pitiful. He had tubes running in and out of his body. His portion of the ward smelled awful and it was all him. His eyes were yellow and one was so bloodshot it looked rotten. He could barely talk. So I did most of the talking. He tried to ask me how I was and what was going on in my life. With the kindest voice I could manage, I told him that was none of his business. I was there to talk about what happened and nothing else.
Steven told me he used to lie to himself and tell him that it was all his friends doing, that it was their idea. And in fact, the group rape was. But his attack on me was all his idea. He told me that he hated himself and couldn't believe that God could ever forgive him. What hatred of this vile creature I had was replaced with pity.
Anyway we talked some more, then I left. Bill and I had some making up to do. Even to this day, we can't speak of this without it being a problem. He still can't understand my need to forgive Steven. I'd moved on with my life, prospered not only professionally, but personally and especially spiritually. He can't understand it, but he has accepted it.