Shared Stories

“I want to be an advocate and share my story but I also don’t want to be my story.”

By an anonymous contributor 

The first time we had sex I was so scared. It was in the loft of his garage and I felt so far away from anyone. I remember thinking that I should just give in because that way I won’t get hurt. If I fought back or resisted there would be no body to hear my screams and I was unsure what he would do. So I let it happen. This is the most regrettable thing I have ever done to myself. I feel that I am not even a victim because I let it all happen. I know I didn’t deserve it but I could have stopped it, maybe. I am the one that told him it was okay to treat me like trash, thus I am the one that open the gates of hell. After the first time we had sex he became more eager for more. It felt like he was never happy unless we did something new every time. He started slapping me and pulling my hair. One time when I resisted the hair pulling he stopped fucking me looked in my eyes and grabbed my throat. At first the choking was gentile. Gentile but still terrifying although I could push him away easily. Later when we ran out of “new things” the choking got harder and soon I was wearing turtlenecks and scarves to school to cover up bruises on my neck. When I would try to push him off he would whisper in my ear “I can tell you like it rough. Women always act this way when they like it”. The sex got so rough that often I would bleed afterwards. I showered every time he left but I still felt dirty. I wanted to crawl out of my skin but I couldn’t so I would scrub my skin dry. Trying to get this feeling off of me. Soon after the choking started he would also bound my wrists or ankles together with scarves he would wear. He would tie my wrists together and tie them to furniture or just to my ankles. I never had bruising from this but my level of fear increased dramatically at this point. I could no longer push him away or resist him. My one level of defence was taken from me. I was too scared to even talk. I felt frozen. Sometimes I would cry but that never stopped him. He would just roll my body around like an object. Where ever was most convenient for him. He did whatever he wanted to me and I felt helpless to do anything. After the experimenting with bondage I never fought back. Even with the bounds off I didn’t think anything I did would make a difference. He was in charge and I was common trash. I felt lost. I turned my emotions off the best I could which I think was part of the reason I stayed the year and a half I did. I got into a rhythm. When we started dating all my friends left me (because they didn’t like him) so he was the only person I could talk to and that took interest in me. It’s embarrassing to even write about it. I feel ashamed and embarrassed that I stayed and let this carry on for so long. I’m embarrassed that it happened. Sex is so personal it is embarrassing to think, talk and write about this. Although I have so much emotion around this I’m sick of obsessing over it. “I want to break free” as the infamous Freddy would say. I want to be an advocate and share my story but I also don’t want to be my story. I want to live past this. I want to be more. I want to make a change.

Shared Stories

It was independence day in India…

By Apurva Singh

Hi! There is no reason to go anonymous and so I am writing down my story. I totally respect those people who have gone through extreme assaults and still living heads up. My story might not be that terrifying though but it left me stammering for the past 18 years. I was 5 when it all started. A man who was assigned to drop me and pick me up from school did it to me. I had given him blowjob for almost 8 months without having any idea what was it all about (I was 5 for God sake!). He used to ejaculate inside my mouth and forced me to gulp it all up and threatened that he would do it to my mother if I tell about it to anyone. Even me, as a kid, couldn’t explain what was happening to me everyday.

I remember it was independence day in India and he took me on his bike to my school and while coming back from school he was not in a mood I guess (fortunately!). He just told me to give him a hand job and hell I did it. Finally I got something that I can talk about to my mom and so I did. I came back home and told her what happened that day. She went numb and I remember her shivering and hugging me tightly. My father was in other city for his service training and he came back after 14 days.

Phones were not in fashion and hence she had to wait until my dad came back. For those 14 days, she walked me to school and picked me up as well. When my father returned, she told him and he lost his patience (obviously!). The servant was punished and rest I am still unaware of. The worst part is that I didn’t tell my parents about blowjob because I really didn’t know how to tell it to them.

It was 13 years later when I came to know the meaning of it but I still haven’t spoken to anyone in my family about it. It’s of no use as well because what’s gone is gone. It left a scar and no matter where I go, it brings out trauma every time I am among unknown people.

Till date, I move out of the room when the supporting staff (even ladies) come to clean it and its all unintentional. It wasn’t my fault but still I suffered and I stammer because of it till now. But I have improved a lot in past 5-6 years, thanks to my friends in my grad school. They are a blessing and my parents who believed in me and took action. I owe them because if they hadn’t reacted, I don’t know what would have happened to me because I stayed in that place for next three years with my family before my dad got transferred to other city.

I am an electrical engineer today and preparing for higher studies and doing pretty well in life but it comes back every time I hear or read about any 5-6 year old kid or 8- 9 months old baby getting raped. I still face assaults but they are verbal (only faces have changed). Either in gym, local bus, or in metro trains. I still get those lustful looks from guys. I have got a good physique with above average looks, pure Indian (no exaggeration and self obsession intended!) and I have been commented and stared at many instances. I hope it all ends someday and those men get some brains in them.