By an Anonymous Contributor

I was 14 when this happened. It was on a Wednesday after school. My ex-boyfriend (I was friends with him) asked me to come over to his house to hangout. I asked if there was going to be anyone else and he said there were going to be his friends so I agreed to go. He walked me to his room.

When I got there, there was no one but just the two of us. He locked the door. I felt a little uncomfortable but I didn’t think anything was going to happen. Then he suddenly forced me to go on my knees and takes his penis out. I told him NO several times but he didn’t listen to me and shoved it in my mouth. I was choking and started hitting his legs as hard as I can. He soon took it out and slapped me really hard. I quickly stood up and tried to leave but he picked me up and thrown me on his bed. I was petrified. He then forced his fingers in my vagina and touched my breasts. He would slap me or hit me really hard if I tried to escape or scream. I was crying all I wanted to do was to leave. He then turned me over and forced his penis in my butthole I screamed and kicked and did everything I could to get away but nothing worked. Then after he let me go. I ran home crying my eyes out and told no one. I felt suffocated and scared.

I would get nightmares about it and couldn’t concentrate in school. The worst thing was that I had to see him every single day. He also told everyone in my class and all his friends that I sold myself to him and everyone started to call me a slut. I couldn’t do anything and felt helpless but I had 2 friends who didn’t know the truth as I told no one but didn’t believe him either. Till this day I have not told anyone about this but I thought I should share my story.

By M.

He was my cousin. I was 5, and he was 16 or 17. We were in his house, with our parents on the floor below. He pulled me into his lap, with his arms around me so I couldn’t move or get away. I didn’t understand what was going on but I knew it was wrong. I told him “I don’t like it,” and he said “We did this all the time when you were little. You used to love it.” But I had no remembrance of that. All I knew was that my mother told me not to let anyone touch me below my hips or on my chest. I told him to stop but he kept touching me and I was terrified. When his brother walked in, I was relieved. I thought he would help. But he didn’t. He just told my cousin to let me go, and walked out. I don’t remember what happened after but I remember he eventually let me go. I remember scrambling out of his arms and running down the stairs to my mom. I didn’t cry or scream or shout. I just said “____ was touching me here,” while pointing to my body. “I told him to stop but he wouldn’t let me go.” And that’s when the memory ended. I blocked it out of my mind for so long but a few years ago, I remembered. I woke up from the nightmare and it all came rushing back. It explained everything. Why my chest tightened and my heart sped up whenever I was alone with an older man. Why I wondered if my friends’ dads were waiting to get me alone to hurt me. I knew my fears were probably just me being paranoid but I found out why. I am so angry and furious but I am also thankful, not to him, never to him. But to myself, for getting past it, and involving myself in movements to prevent sexual violence.