Teen Stories

The first step is to acknowledge that something even happened.

When reading, hearing and looking at these stories it is amazing how many people have the guts, confidence and heart to share!

It is so hard to comprehend how many people are suffering and need help. Let's try to be there for one another, to be kind and be aware.

 

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“I was sexually assaulted by one of my best friends in his dorm room.”


“The Shame Of Lost Innocence

It was Friday, the sky dark and the time was late.
People were leaving, the number reduced another eight.
She wanted to go home and called for her ride.
If only she knew that this would be why she cried.
Her parents weren't coming, so she looked around.
If only she knew he'd be why she jumped at every sound.
As time passed, she was left with boy one, boy two, and boy three.
Later she wished that he'd just crashed them into a tree.
Boy one and boy two were filled with pride.
This was why she refrained from asking them for a ride.
Instead she asked boy three, the one she thought she could trust.
If only she saw that his eyes were filled with lust.
Halfway to the car, she kept asking herself if this was right.
She pushed it away as they got to the first red light.
The drive was smooth, conversation normal, not one red sign to be seen.
They acted as friends, pretending to be mean.
One word later, she must've said something wrong.
She knew because the car ride started to feel unbearably long.
Before she could say something, the car pulled over.
She just wanted to go home, but he ignored her and leaned in closer.
Her remaining innocence was lost as his mouth claimed hers.
As his hands roamed her body, she only felt worse.
She begged him to stop and put her arms up in defense.
Instead he continued, thinking that she wasn't making sense.
She kept trying to push him off, but it was no use.
The seatbelt felt tighter, she just wanted to cut it loose.
After what felt like hours, he finally got the message.
Except it was too late, the damage done, he´d turned her into wreckage.
Her story is now told, it's both common and rare.
However, she thought it was worth the share.
Even though the story is told, it's not yet done.
For the memories of that night like to come back for fun.

Thank you for letting me share.”


“It was a couple years ago... I was 17. I had a roommate that moved in who was 19. At first I loved him it felt like the brother I never had. I’d spend hours hanging out with him and talking, and he was always there. He began to persuade me to take drugs with him and his friends. I was young and saw him as a role-model, so I did. Eventually I started taking them a lot he would get more touchy and slimy. He began dating my close friend and we’d all take drugs together. One night we took 2 and a half Xanax I couldn’t comprehend anything. The next day I woke up and was so barred out still I couldn’t function. We were all in my bed and smoking which made me more incoherent. Eventually my friend/his girlfriend left... I was laying in bed and told him I still couldn’t function right. I couldn’t remember anything and felt drunk. Next thing I knew he was on top of me. He took off my clothes and told me I wanted it. I couldn’t understand what was going on but remember saying to stop and no. He penetrated me and then left. I couldn’t tell my mom and he eventually told my friend saying it was my idea. My friend then hated me and I lost some of my favorite people. But even worse he lived with me and I had to see him every day. He lived with me for 3 more months before I finally told my mom. My friend took over a year and a half to finally believe me. I dream and get flashbacks to him scratching and biting me. I had my dignity stolen from me and could not comprehend the damage he had done. He stole my voice and never payed for it.”


“i was pressured into getting drunk with a friend and her brother. i was wasted, i felt alone and like a burden. my friend didn’t want to deal with me and so she sent me away with her brother, alone, to his room, him fully sober, me drunk, confused, and afraid. i cant remember much except for me aggressively getting pushed into bedsheets and crying. i woke up on the bathroom floor with bruises and blood coming out of my privates. i had brunch with him and his family a few hours later. i couldn’t make eye contact and i couldn’t stop crying.”


“I was at a close friends house with some of my girl friends and some guy friends. One of which was my ex boyfriend. The boys were all super drunk and my ex was all over me as he always is. We made out and then he started shoving his hands down my pants on this couch. I told him to stop and he just kept trying and trying. In the moment I was confused and blamed it on the fact that he was drunk. The more I think about the more I realized just how many times I told him to stop. To this day he thinks he can just come up to me and grab me whenever he wants when we haven’t been together for years at this point.”


“i was raped when i was 12 by a family friend. he’s friends with everyone and a popular high school boy. no one except friends/family knows, and it haunts me every second. i hate him”


“I grew up with these neighbors that lived across the street from us. I was best friends with their daughter and one night while having a sleepover, her older brother walked into the basement where we were asleep. I was 9. He was 14 or 13. I woke up to him laying on top of me. I was about to scream but he told me to shut up. I was so scared so I did. I resisted and struggled but then I gave up. I remained silent as he touched me. He touched me in places that my grandma told me NO ONE should ever be allowed to. tears streamed down my face as I looked over at my friend who was shockingly still asleep. When he was done he got up, and went back upstairs. I remember looking down at my raw body. feeling disgusted with myself I pulled up my pants and went to sleep. I didn't tell anyone except for my sister, about a year ago. and the worst part was facing him almost every day. my family was good friends with his family. i was best friends with his sister. why do people do things like this? I try not to think about it but when I'm at a party and a guy starts touching me down there I get nauseous and ask them to stop. and most of them did. except for one. freshman year I had my first kiss with this boy. I was so nervous and unsure of what to expect. then about halfway into making out he slips his hand under my leggings and I immediately pull away and say I'm not into that. He stops. Then tries again. I say stop. We keep making out and then he does it AGAIN. Flashbacks to that night with my best friends brother popped into my mind. After that I cut things off with this boy. He violated me. Another boy used me for my body. and when I got home I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I took a shower but quickly got dressed because my own body reminded me of them. sometimes I think that maybe I shouldn't have let them do it. I should've stopped hooking up with that boy the second time he tried. but I didn't completely comprehend what had happened until a few days later. I've never shared this much in detail before. not even to my journal or my therapist. thank you.”


“The boy I was dating and loved raped me. He cheated on me for years and i couldn't ever leave because of how much I thought I loved him. He broke my heart daily. A few years into our relationship, I couldn't handle the cheating anymore. I broke up with him, but he wouldn't leave me alone. He told me the only way he would be able to ever leave me alone and stop calling and texting and trying to meet up with me was if I had sex with him. He told me I had no other choice. He wouldn't ever go away unless I did it. He raped me in his car in an abandoned parking lot. I laid there and cried while he assaulted me and he seem unbothered by my tears and sobbing. He left. I laid in the back seat of my car feeling defeated and destroyed. I called a friend and told her what had just happened and she said it was assault and I lost it. 2 months later, I was at a female friend's house for a sleepover. I took my medicine for migraines (it knocks me out completely to where I cannot move at all). She called her boyfriend and his friend and asked them to come over after I was drugged. I vaguely remember being carried up to this bed and he climbed in and he tried kissing me. I was unconscious but remember knowing what was happening to me... but I was frozen. I couldn't move. He started touching me. While I was frozen. I couldn't do anything. He thought I was unconscious. He had the nerve to sleep all night in that bed with me and my friend didn't even try to stop him. At all. I dated that boy because he had sex with me and my messed up Christian roots made me feel like I had to marry this boy now because he fucked me and I had already lost my virginity to a different scum bag. I am so fucked up now. 5 years later and I struggle with not hurting myself every day. It is horrible. I am struggling so so much.”


“I was raped, and I am struggling to say anything more because just to write that out is so terrifying. To type it makes it real, and I don’t want it to be real, but I was raped, and this is me taking the first step to move forward, to recover.”


“Standing
Outside of the supermarket
Waiting
Alone
Scared 
Vulnerable
Man as old as my grandfather
Approaches
Calls me beautiful
Too scared to respond
Standing still
He comes closer
Says
"You better smile at me"
I smile
Scared
"You better fucking respect your elders"
He says aggressively.
He walks away
I go on with my day
Bothered but silent
I don't stand outside of the supermarket
Alone
Anymore

-That time when I felt powerless in front of the supermarket.”


“I never thought this was a big deal, but in 7th grade, an upper class men groped me in the hallway. At the time, I didn’t think to report it. Now that it’s been a few years, i’ve now realized that it’s made me extremely self conscious and I lack trust in many of my friends who are guys, even though they would never do such things to hurt me.”


“I had to stop doing activities that I love because the person that harmed me was doing the same extracurriculars and had a similar schedule that I had, and so I had to completely uproot my life and lose the space for so many things I like doing.”


“Crying doesn't indicate that you're weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you're alive.”


“Sometimes sharing my story makes me feel afraid that people will make me feel less than. Not because I was raped but because of something about the timing and circumstances. I was in the last half of my 7th grade year a day after my birthday I started dating a boy who I’d only known for about a night before. Of course I’d seen him around school and heard he was a little off sometimes but nothing to worry about. He was very accustomed to getting what he wanted with no problem given his parents financial position. I should probably also mention he was two years older than me, in 8th grade. So as our relationship started there were a few red flags here and there. He had very severe anger issues, he scared me quite a lot but he’d never put a hand on me at this point. He would threaten to hurt himself for various reasons and having experienced that I would do whatever I could to get him to take it back. No matter how many times he’d “break up” with me, no matter what he did I’d always try and make everything okay. And he knew that. I’d be up until 2 am sobbing on the phone with him as he called me a whore, slut, bitch, etc. and told me I was cheating among various other things. The accusations never stopped they only got worse. He would tell me what I could and couldn’t wear, he wouldn’t let me see my friends meaning I’d lost touch with everyone. I only had him. I do believe he knew what he was doing. Sometimes we’d get in fights and when I would try to walk away he would grab me and I really thought he could snap my arm right in half in that moment. He told me he wouldn’t be happy with me if I didn’t have sex with him.  
—————————————————————————  
Anyways it mostly started every time I saw him, we had to do something. He wanted a blow job or a handjob or he wanted to have sex whether his parents were home or not. And I won’t lie and say we never did that and that it was never consensual. Because it was. It was many times. And I’d lost my virginity to him two months after turning 13. But towards the end of the year closer to about us having dating for about a year and maybe three months or so I told him no because a friend had told me it wasn’t right and if I wanted it to stop I should say no. So I did and I was horrified for what would happen when I said it but i did. I told him I wanted to take a break from doing that stuff everyday for a while. Not break up with him nothing like that just not sexual stuff everyday. I started to feel like he was only with me because he knew I’d put out. He got very upset at this. He tried again and again. I told him no three times. Three. But the truth of the matter is that sometimes it doesn’t matter how many times you say no. After all that he ended up putting on a condom and having sex with me. Tears rolled down my face a result of a combination of things. This moment in my head was a violation of respect and trust, and it justified the thought in my head that he had only been using me for one thing for all these months. He kept pushing as I laid there silently. The condom snapped. I felt it. I jumped. But he didn’t care. He kept going. So at that point I didn’t care either. He’d already took everything from me. My respect, my trust, my friends. Everything. I was nothing. And that’s what I felt so that’s what I believed. I was nothing. I started cutting and got into drinking after that. I was raped at 14 and while it’s gotten better close to two years later I still see him everyday. And everyday I know he’s walking around with a clear conscience. I never went to the police because he’d already had a court case with some girl before me over nudes (shocking right) and I didn’t want to cause more trouble. So I suffered silently. I was doing copious amounts of drugs the summer after to avoid the pain I felt. I wanted to kill myself time and time again. I was inches from jumping off a parking garage drunk one day. Coincidentally the girl i was doing all this with one day when I’d taken a combination of way too many different drugs at way too high a dose plus some alcohol. While he had taken a half of one pill. She got the idea that she wanted to do stuff with me too. This was far more recent and I’m still ashamed to this day because while I remember every second of the incident the rest of the night is spotty and I feel embarrassed and I hated myself for it. I saw her everyday too. Not anymore but it was harder when is we them both in the same school that was supposed to be a safe place. Relationships of any kind after these things were very hard. Anything that required trust was hard. But I regained my friendships and I am currently in a relationship in my sophomore year of high school with someone who respects me and who I really trust. It gets better I promise. Don’t let someone else take everything from you. It’s not their life. It’s yours. Take control. Live your life, don’t hide from it.”


“When I was little I was with a group of neighbors at my grandmas house. Everyone wanted to climb up the shed but we weren’t supposed to and it was around 9 and dark out. Some man who I had met just a couple days before came up to me and touched me in places no one should. I ran home and I was so scared and frozen my grandma asked me what was wrong. I said nothing and didn’t go back to her house for about 6 months.”


“Fire
It was a trap. The whole time. 
It was never healthy to unhealthy,
It was never fun to abuse.
It was unhealthy abuse. The whole time. 

Kissing up to your shoes the whole time 
so you could put roses in my fingertips and 
do anything you liked to the rest of me. 
It was always "I don't want to get reported," instead of "I don't want to rape you." 

And a heart-aching battle trying to convince myself that I loved you,
when somewhere inside, I needed to strangle you.
Strip you of everything you took from me, 
playing with my virginity, 

and my freedom shattering in a room 
you insisted would be dark
so that I couldn't pick up the pieces 
of my broken heart. 

You, were the gatekeeper to the cage you put me in, 
the ring leader to the circus I performed so well in. 
I stayed in one place, like the perfect statue of unworthiness you wanted,
yet it was never enough. 

So shrink the cage more, that would teach me a lesson,
close the door, make me scrub the floor
while you sat on your throne. 
I have no sympathy for you. 

You wanted me to be the answer 
so you took all my answers away
threw me on the ground until you found the last of what I hadn't given away, 
innocence on display will always crumble into shadows. 

I woke up. You showed me how frightening it was to be trapped. 
And it hurt so bad to have my wings clipped, that the last of my anger blew up the cage. 
My rage hissing from the shadows and devouring every rose you ever slipped into my fingers,
lingering on the thorns. There's nothing to say anymore. 

To this day, I feel the sinking in my stomach when you flicker across my mind. 
Sometimes I feel the bars of the cage still pressing against my skin, 
but the fire within 
will burn them. 

This fire you fed so well 
will be the last spell
you put on any woman. 
You. Are. Done. 

(Poem 2)
At The Bus Station.

At the bus station
there was a man who thought I was older
and put a hand on my shoulder
and called me beautiful. 

While I was cringing, 
cringing from the weight of his unwelcomed hand molecules interacting with my shoulder
cringing from his other hand reaching for mine
and the time seemed to stand still. 

At the bus station,
I stood perfect and unmoving,
smiling and accepting the compliments,
watching my hand accept his over and over again.

Feeling as though my rib cage could rip
As if my whole body could flip
into a fire of anxious flames, 
dying to be anywhere but here. 

At the bus station,
I told him I was 15,
frantically searching for reasons
why he shouldn't pick me. 

At the bus station, 
he wouldn't go away
and my boundaries faded
every time I couldn't say no. 

My voice stopped speaking 
so long ago 
that it seemed pointless
to try to find it. 

So at the bus station,
I smiled and wondered 
if his hand wasn't just reaching
for my hand by my side.

If his blue eyes 
were melting my skin 
a little more 
every time he looked at me.

So hungry, so thirsty
for the juice of my light 
And I didn't even fight 
him for it. 

At the bus station, 
I was saved by a guy who asked me what the homework was
And to this day I'm not sure 
if he really wanted to know. 

But I know that the homework was merely keeping myself together.
Like birds who don't have enough feathers to fly, 
I didn't have the words to say 
goodbye. 

But whether the guy intended to save my lungs
from giving up on air or not, 
he stayed there. 
Until the man walked away. 

And all I could say
Was "thank you." 

I choked on the air that escaped my mouth
on the vibration in my throat, on the formation of my lips
And how many more painful trips will it take
before I can learn to speak? 

Weak legs carried 
that burden onto the bus
And my trust in the world
shot down. 

I felt like a clown
with shoes too awkward for anyone to fit in. 
And my head began to spin, and shivers went down my back
and chilled my bone, when I realized that I'll never be alone. 

(Poem 3) 
Colors

Listen. 
The voice of a victim. 
Someone who has seen more than their fair share
of color scheme. 

The colors that blend 
between you and me
feel empty
like the sockets of a skull. 

It's just bones in this graveyard
since you decided 
it was your right
to take my body. 

These bones hum 
with the sounds of the 
colors you left on me.
Colors that feel like eternity.

Maybe to you, it was like candy. 
Taking me apart piece by piece
to find your favorite flavor. 
I'm not a F***ing donator. 

My skeleton
just a willowy frame
of shame and guilt
walks around believing it was my fault. 

With my body
you took my virginity, 
slipping out of my fingertips 
like the skin you peeled from them. 

You stripped me,
layer by layer, 
determined to find the perfect gold
for your throne. 

Maybe you would show it off 
to your friends,
like how you would impress
your next victim with your driving skills. 

So I am a skeleton 
of someone
who used to know 
what it was like to love. 

I am as numb 
as the cream color on my bones
as hollow as my 
cheeks. 

They used to be fleshy
and they'd blush
when you held me,
but that's a fairy tale now. 

Why did you take my cheeks? 
I used to smile with them. 
If I smiled when you stole my body,
would it have made you change your mind? 

This skeleton can only 
reach for what has destroyed it.
It wants another chance 
to prove it;s not worth destroying. 

But the colors you left me with 
keep toying 
with the very few breaths 
I have left. 

It is when
I am sick of being bones
and all I can think of
is to go home

that my cheeks may return. 
And maybe one day
I won't be blind to what is danger 
and what is not. 

One day, my body 
will come back. 
And you will have one less peice of candy to eat. 
And I will remember
my colors.”


“When I was in 5th grade I was groped and molested by another student. The administration did nothing about it. The boy did not receive any punishment, rather they told my parents after I asked them not too and never told the boy’s parents.”


“There was this boy in my art class. For the first couple of weeks of school he kept explaining in detail about how he was gonna “ chain me up and drug me so I don’t feel a thing when he rapes me” amen” I’m gonna make you pop a xan so I can do whatever I want to you” he kept making hand motions towards my breasts. Everyday, every art class the same thing. One time he came up to me and grabbed my boob I was in the middle of class and I froze everyone around me laughed as if I wasn’t just touched inappropriately without my consent. Word got around and eventually people heard about it. I thought it was just a boob grab right? No ones gonna think to much about it even through I had felt terrible as if it was my fault his friends confronted me and kept calling me a whore and slut and that I asked for it. I just hope he doesn’t do anything worse in the future.”


“I was sitting with my friends in Starbucks the other day. Friends, nothing more, and one guy started to touch my thigh. I pushed him off multiple times and told him to stop but he wouldn’t. He then tried to stick his hand down my leggings and I moved away and he started to laugh. 2 days later he texted me saying he was sorry.”


“After my whole childhood of abuse I’m now almost 18 and I’m still scared to wear a bath suit around my own father. My father.”


“Almost all of my traumatic life altering moments have been because of some sort of sexual violence whether that be harassment or molestation. But the one that affects me the most even nine years later is when I was molested as a child. It was by the father of my friend at the time. I was young so I didn’t see that it was wrong. As it happened I was scared but I didn’t think to tell anyone because I didn’t know what was happening. I’m not sure exactly when it started or how but there are a few events that are imprinted into my brain. The time he rubbed lotion on my legs and put his hand up my shorts. The multiple times he pressed his erection against my backside. When I was climbing up a ladder and he shoved his face in my crotch from behind. This all happened around the time I was in fourth grade. I didn’t mention it to an adult until I was a sophomore in high school, I still haven’t told any of my family members. Up until that point I didn’t realize how much my molestation affected me. How it gave me anxiety and instilled in me the fear of men. How it made being touched panic inducing. And because I live in a rural town I still see the man who did it and every time it is a slap to the face. It is something I am still working through and will probably continue to do for a long time. Yet I know I will rise above this because there is no other option. And to everyone else who has posted or who is reading this know that I am with you and support you. With this platform we are finally being heard and we will not be silenced anytime soon.”


“I’ve been molested by my cousin for most of my life and and by Father’s Day of 2015 I was almost raped by him. I came home crying to my little sister bawling that I have had enough, after 7 years of my life (from what I can remember) I finally got to speak out, and you can too. The sad thing for me is that I’ve come to terms with it I still go through everyday things that he changed for me but I recently found out that he’s been telling close friends and family that I’ve been the bad guy and he only pleaded guilty cause he wanted it over with and I believe he actually didn’t tell his whole family the truth and has actually went with making me look bad, a 7-14 year old girl.. against a teenage boy till almost 18, no instead he’s said I was the bad one and made him look bad. Now my cousin, his sister is currently pregnant and having a little girl. And I am incredibly scared for that baby girl.”


“Two days before Halloween 2018, I was raped in my living room on my couch. Let's back up a bit. I am, and was, 18. I'm a gay Male who was bullied from 1st grade all the way through half way through 12th grade for being different, weird, gay. I got used to being called fa**ot daily at school, but things changed half way through senior year. But all that is not the point. The day it happened I had a Male friend over in the morning to have a fun time with oral sex. He pressured me to do anal and I hesitantly complied. It got too painful and I said "I need to stop" yet he kept going. I said "please stop" yet he kept going, but he got more aggressive. I said as almost a whimper like plea "please stop" and again he got more aggressive. I said it again but this time he pushed my face into the back of the couch. I gave up. Tears running down my face from a combination of pain and the feeling of pure violation and fear. It seemed like it went on forever, but before he ejaculated, he stopped, pulled up his pants, and left. I felt so dirty that I went to take a shower. That's when I broke down, realizing the entirety of what just happened. I texted a friend and said "I think I was just raped." And that friend said, "are you ok?" They convinced me to go to the police station, so I did. Instead of going to class at my college I walked to the police station, a 45 minute walk away from my house, and I talked to an officer. This was almost more traumatic than the actual rape. The officer made me tell him about every aspect of what happened and said "it sounds like it was consensual and that it sounds like it's your fault." They asked me if I wanted to press charges and at that point I just wanted it all to be over so I said no. They said "theres nothing else we can do then, have a good day." Like I can ever have a good day after that. I walked back home, the whole time holding back tears. As I got back home I looked for a belt. I didnt want to live anymore. I was not able to find the belt. I told my mom a few days after the fact and she put me back into therapy. In the weeks after I have gone through my darkest mental state I've ever been in. I attempted suicide multiple times. Now it is 3 months after. I have worked past most of the effects of PTSD. I still cannot sit on the couch. But regardless of everything that has happened, I am happier now than I have been in the past 8 years. All because i have focused on myself and got myself the help i needed. I dont want anyone to go through that experience. I personally do not trust the police in the city I live and it's sad because they are supposed to be the ones you trust.”


“It was four days before my ninth birthday when I was sleeping over at my best friends house and her dad ended up molesting me. I never knew what to do but I am doing better now I think. It's still just so hard sometimes because I remember things at random points and I freak out in so many different ways. Thank you for listening even though this wasn't that long”


“When I was 13, I was staying at my uncle's for a few days because my parents had to go out of town for a business trip. My uncle was a good guy to be around with (or so I thought.) I was in the guest room on the bed reading and my uncle came in and we made small talk and I didn't think anything about it and he then got closer to me and put one hand on my back while his other hand pulling down my shorts and underwear. I was so scared and I started crying and telling him "Please stop. Don't do this". He didn't listen. He made me sit up and take off my shirt and bra so I was totally naked with him right in front of me. He unbuckled,unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled them down. He told me to give him a blow job or he was going to hurt my parents. I gave him a blow job because I was afraid he was going to hurt my parents. He got hard than told me to lay on my back. He raped me. He took away my innocence. He took away my virginity. He took away so much from me. After he was done,he called me a slut and a hoe and told me I was nothing. I then went and sat in the shower with the water on and cried for hours. When my parents came and picked me up,we were driving back home and I was quiet and not saying a whole lot. My parents asked me what was wrong and I told them everything that happened. I was so scared to tell them because I thought it was my fault but I wanted to be a voice for other young girls. I wanted to speak up and I'm glad I did.
We got the police involved and my uncle was arrested and,when we went to court,he was found guilty and is now doing 60 years behind bars. (I didn't testify because I was so traumatized). To my parents,myself and my relatives,my uncle is dead in our eyes. My dad tells people he only has a sister now. I'm 15 now and that day is still in my mind and,sometimes,I just break down crying. My parents tell me it wasn't my fault. I have been going to a psychiatrist for almost two years now. What my uncle did to me really messed me up. I've thought about suicide but I'm not going to do that. I won't do that because I am stronger than that. I'm a survivor. Thank you for letting me tell my story. It really helps to get it off my chest.”


“What is it called when you let him come over knowing you would be alone? 

What is it called when you drink to the point of not remembering, but he puts the glass against your lips to take another shot as he is finishing his first beer? 

What would you call it when you kissed him back when stripped you down to your underwear? Or when he puts you on your back as he slips off your underwear, his hands finding every part of your naked body. 

What would you call it when he asked to have sex, but you didn’t respond?
And when you start falling asleep he grabs at you to keep you awake as he asks again? 

What is the deep pinching pain that jolts your eyes open called? Or when instead of saying stop you turn your head to the side and close your eyes?

Or when he stops after concluding that ‘this was a bad idea’ to which you turn over and find blankets to cover your exposed body. 

What would you call it as he takes the blanket you so desperately needed to feel safe and forces you to put clothes back on? 

Or when you ask what actually happened and he assures you it was nothing. 

Some would call it rape, but he said it was nothing.”


“I don't know how much this "counts" but I want to share incase anyone else is struggling with this. I had a night with a boy I liked at the time. We were at a party, he brought me up to the room and we started to kiss as he removed my clothing I felt safe, I felt good, until he started to take off his belt. He knew I didn't want to go all the way. As the pressure of his fingers in me (I was ok with it) I told him I didn't want to go any further he said ok and we continued. He repeatedly over and over again the rest of the time kept asking if we could go all the way. He kept saying we had a condom and it would be fun. I didn't want to. He respected my decision eventually. In that moment I felt harassed, I felt like what I was giving him wasn't enough. I felt less then I really am. Thank you for letting me share.”


“While working on a project, I had to use a microphone that was clipped to the back of my leggings. The "sound guy," from the beginning, when attaching the microphone to my pants would reach his hands forcefully under my leggings to get the microphone "to stay on securely," as he said. I asked one of the females that was there if she could possibly put on my microphone the next time I needed it. She agreed to and as she was doing it the sound guy came back and explained to her that she was doing it wrong and continued to forcefully and rapidly put his hands "accidentally" down my pants while grunting and repeatedly saying he was sorry with no emotion in his tone. At one point he even pulled at the top of my underwear. He would pat me down in uncomfortable places to make sure it was "secure" and ask me to lift up my shirt so he could see if everything was "in the right places." At one point I grabbed the mic before he started putting it on and respectfully asked if my mom could help to put it on. He agreed, but after my mom put it on, he claimed it was wrong, took it off, and this whole process repeated. I can't even stand the idea of looking at his face ever again. I felt extremely violated and hardly anyone knows.”


“I’m 16. But by the time I was nine I had already been raped. He is my great-uncle and he was in his sixties. I just... thought he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to touch me in my private spots. Eventually I told somebody. Eventually it got to the police. Nothing happened. He didn’t even have to register as a sex offender. When I was 12, I was raped by my step-sister. There’s almost no studies about girl-on-girl rape and even less about UNDERAGE girl-on-girl rape. She was 16. I also told the police about that one, but I lied about wanting it.... because my dad said that my step sister wasn’t trying to hurt me. But she was. And my dad is horrible for thinking that. He still believes that she didn’t do anything wrong... but I know she did. I’m not the one to blame and I’m tired of being swept under a rug. I will not blame myself any more.”


“The Man at the Gate

I thought I had found it, that thing we call love. 
I had not searched long and far for it,
I had not waited. 
What was standing in front of me is what you could barely call a man;
I was 15. 
I thought he was smiling at me,
He invited me inside with welcoming arms so
I handed him my heart. 
I had done what my mother had taught,
I left the gate closed.  
But the man was eager and impatient,
He knocked and beated on the gate 
With voracious eyes; 
He was hungry. 

“How am I supposed to love you if you won’t even let me in?”
His words dripped of insincere sincerity. 
But I was 15.
I believed in only good intentions
So I unlocked the line of bolted locks and opened the door.

He robbed me.
He violated everything my wall stood to protect.
His hands grabbed from the top shelves 
Smashing everything on the ground.
He took my happy memories
And replaced them with those of wandering hands,
Diminishing my existence, 
Reducing me to a toy for an aggressive and careless boy like him. 
I was 15,
Laying behind a broken gate with the shattered remains.

It’s different getting violated by someone you thought you held close.
I convinced myself that he would change,
I tried to think of better times
Like the ones where he would say “ this is a real love”.
I thought it would help with the pain and holding back the tears
But it made it worse 
Seeing a familiar face transform into a monster.

On your last visit 
You walked through the doors and picked me up 
Out of the ruins.
You laid me on a bed  
And began your salvation.
Maybe you didn’t hear my protest 
Because of the hand you covered my mouth with.
That day you walked right out 
Leaving me on the bed with blood-stained underwear and your words
“You’re ready” 
Echoing through my brain. 
I watched as you walked out the door 
And crossed into the neighbor’s yard 
Welcoming another innocent soul into your grasp.
I was 15 when you ripped the last bit of life away. 

Daddy warned me of men like you. 
A women’s body is a temple and boys like you,
Your only goal is to conquer.
When I was younger I was scared of the boogieman
Taking everything from me,
But now I’m only scared of you.”



“I was 14 when I started dating my first boyfriend my freshman year of high school. Our relationship started off fine because we originally went to different schools but as time went on he eventually transferred to my school. When he transferred to my school, he began to gradually become more possessive and told me that I was friends with too many guys. All of my guy friends were people I had known for a long time, no one I would be romantically interested in, yet he quickly became very jealous. He started accusing me of not being loyal, calling me a hoe and a slut and making remarks on what I would wear daily saying it was too tight or I was trying to show off. He gave me an ultimatum and said that if we were to continue to be together I would have to not be friends with any guys anymore. I began changing because I was naive and wanted to do whatever I could to make him happy. I started wearing baggy clothes and avoided talking to guys because if I was seen talking to one by him he would break up with me. I lost all my friends because he only let me hang out with him and no one else. He treated me like a toy, verbally abusing me daily. The longer we dated, the worse it became. I remember sitting in the library reading a book when his best friend came down and sat next to me to do some other homework. We didn't say much to each other, just made occasional small talk but when the bell rang I turned around and saw my boyfriend's face and in that moment I had never felt more scared. He walked up to me and his best friend and then gave his friend a smile then proceeded to physically drag me out of the library in front of everyone. He began screaming at me, telling me I was worthless and that I was a slut trying to get with his best friend. He broke up with me and instead of ending it there I chased after him and we ended up getting back together. After he figured out that he could easily manipulate me, the verbal abuse soon became sexual abuse. At the time, I had no knowledge or interest in doing anything sexual with the guy yet he manipulated me into doing stuff with him. He began saying that it was the only way to "take our relationship to the next level" and that if we didn't do anything sexual he would have to break up with me. Whenever we would be sitting together, he would begin to force himself on me and I would tell him that I wasn't ready or that I didn't want to and he would shush me and then continue on. After numerous times of putting up a fight, I finally caved and just let him do what he wanted because I thought it would make him happy even though I was breaking and disgusted with myself. The time that is burned in my memory the most is the first time that I went to his house. My parents were very strict and didn't let me go to his house so the first time I went we were hanging out when he brought me downstairs into his room. When I got in his room he turned around and locked the door behind me and began to force himself on me. I told him that I didn't want to and he put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up and that I did want it and began to continue on. I tried to shove him off of me and he got mad but then I later just laid there and tried to block out what was happening. He raped me while his mom was upstairs. By the end of our relationship, he was no longer trying to hide the fact that he didn't like me as he began saying horrible things to me when he knew I was depressed such as "you've gotten so annoying that you could jump off a roof and I wouldn't care". Despite this, I never left and to this day it is my biggest regret. He broke up with me over text right before summer started and admitted to me that by the end he was only using me for sex and that he had never loved me. The next day he began snapchatting me pictures of his ex-girlfriend who I caught him texting during our relationship (explicit photos and deleting their texts) and I soon found out that they were hooking up. I was traumatized, horrified, and spent the whole summer being the most depressed I have in my whole life. Not only for the way I was treated by him during our relationship, but that I let him treat me like that and never left. It is now two years later but I am still emotionally scarred from our relationship. I never sought help afterwards because i was too scared to tell my parents and I knew that if I did pursue legal action, the chances of me winning my case would be so slim. I still have to see him every day in school because he is in several of my classes and when I see him I begin to have anxiety attacks. We even get partnered up together sometimes and I don't know what to say to him. He still treats me like shit even though we aren't dating, making up rumors about me and being rude to me or in front of me with his friends. He has made me out to be a liar and every time I see him I want to punch him in the face or tell him how messed up what did to me was because I don't even think he realizes what he did. I now regret the fact that I never saw a therapist after the relationship because I am still having to face him to this day. And the thing that kills me the most is that another girl will some day meet him and possibly go through the same thing that I did. And I wish I at least tried to report it because I hate the fact that he is still out there. I feel like I let myself and other survivors down by not ....”


“It was always scary going down there. The darkness encompasses you and the smell of old fried food and musty rags fills the air. Piles of boxes and forgotten objects fill up that foreboding, gloomy space. Usually, on the occasion that I am sent down to retrieve a missing object or to stack and fold cake boxes, I descend the stairs wishing I was not alone. This time I wasn't. I didn't see him at first. He must have followed me in and hid behind one of the stacks. As I was leaving he appeared out of the shadows. It was one of the cooks from the kitchen. I had never spoken to him, except one small interaction about a week ago, in which he asked me how old I was, "Only days away from turning 18," I said. Why was he in the basement, and why was the door shut. I didn't remember shutting it behind me. I never would for fear of being locked in that dismal old mine. He approached me and a wave of fear rushed over me. It was as though I was watching myself through a screen, my mind racing with all the things that could be about to happen. I swiftly headed for the door pretending not to see him. He grabbed me, his arms wrapped tightly around my small figure and I froze. "I have a birthday present for you," he said as he grabbed the back of my head. He leaned in to kiss me but I turned away. "No please don't." I said as I tried to push him off of me. He began kissing my cheeks and neck, trying to get to my mouth. He squeezed me tighter. I repeated myself, "Stop, please." pushing at his chest "But it's my birthday present to you. Come on, you'll like it. Just kiss me girl." I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to get away. 'What if he raped me, right here in the basement of the restaurant. I didn't even know him! Did he think I wanted this based on the few times I waved at him through the food window?' Finally I squirmed out out of his grip, racing upstairs. He followed me up, into the bar which was located in the front of the restaurant, a place I had never seen him come into. "You hungry girl?" he whispered in my ear, after walking up behind me. There were other coworkers around and customers waiting in line for pastries and evening coffee. I laughed trying to appear normal. "I'm always hungry" I said as my manager, smiling at the seemingly innocent relationship between an 18 year old busser and a 40 something year old cook, walked into the bar. 
I went home that evening stuck between wanting to cry and scream, and wanting to pretend the whole thing never happened. Sitting in my room I felt almost as frozen as I had in the basement storage room. 'Do I tell someone?' I decided not too, I convinced myself that it wasn't THAT big of an incident and that I probably led him on in some way, and really the whole thing was my fault. Coming to that conclusion didn't make me feel any better though, in fact I got this horrible feeling as though a rock hard ball was lodged in my chest, making me nauseous. I began to think about all the girls who suffer at the hands of men taking advantage of them. Was this the same sort of thing? Was I choosing to be quiet about something that If it were to happen to anyone else I would feel so strongly about acknowledging and taking action on? One of my best friends has spent years of her life already, working as hard as she can to bring awareness to sexual abuse. And I have supported her and helped through the whole thing. I realized that by holding this is in, not only was I hurting myself, but I wasn't standing up for all the women in the world who have spent their life suffering because of incidents just like this, an issue that for so long has been ignored and even shut down, an issue that for the first time in history is actually being acknowledged to an extent. 
I texted my manager. I told him what had happened. he was shocked and hardly believed that such a thing could happen; which I found interesting given that 1 in 6 girls get raped, much more groped and kissed against their will. He spoke with the owner of the restaurant and he contacted me, asking if I would meet with him. Although, I had chosen to tell them, I was still hating myself for something. I wasn't sure what for, but some part of me felt like I had done something wrong, really wrong. 
I went in to meet the owner. To my surprise he was kind and gentle. He informed me that the cook had been fired because "it is absolutely unacceptable for anyone to touch your body, or anyone else's without their consent." He told me he was very proud of me, as a woman, for standing up for myself and doing something that so many woman are too scared to do.
Obviously I am still hurting. It was a shitty situation. But that night, as I texted my manager, I broke through some shell, a shell I hardly knew I had built. I spoke up for something that needed to be spoken about, and I realized, fully, for the first time in my life that IT IS NOT OKAY.”


“Last year I was dating my boyfriend and we were at his house like we normally were. We were in his room and he wanted to have sex with me. This had happened before. I, previously, had said to him I did not want to and when I did that his mood instantly changed and got really mad. That time he just grabbed me and he did it. I tried to push him away but he was too strong. I repeatedly said to him if he could stop but he kept undressing me and because he noticed I was pushing him away, he grabbed my arms so I was not able to move as he was on top of me. I kept crying and once he finished I got my stuff and got out of his house. I needed fresh air.”


“Thank you... “


“I am 15 years old, I have been raped, molested, and physically abused since birth. I will never be able to forget what has happened to me, but what hurts even more is that 2 of my abusers, were my parents...the ones who were supposed to protect me, the ones who were supposed to love me. My father has beaten, drugged, molested, cut, burned, and raped me. I wrote this one day when I didn't want to get out of bed, after a sleepless night. 


I hate you dad!
I hate you for all that you have done to me.
Our love that was once so strong...fell apart completely.
I hope I can forget you dad.
You messed with my head and made me crazy.
All those calls and texts made me numb.
All these years you still don't have a clue!
You screwed up my head. Because of you I can no longer sleep at night,
You ruined my life! Are you happy now dad?
I have physical and Emotional scars because of you. But I bet you don't care….
You never cared.
Seeing any reminder of you, makes me think of all those sleepless nights alone..
Scared that you would come back, scared of what could happen if i just shut my eyes for a damn second!
You started a new family without me..Why do you hate me so much?
What did I do?
All those years you left me for those drugs have finally turned on you.
Now that I have something you don’t , you think you can just come back and expect me to love you again?
But guess what, I will never love you again, I’ll leave you alone, just like you left me.
It sucks now that you are getting old, and your kids are growing up...you won't have anyone.
And that is what you deserve.
I used to think you were the best man in the world...but looks can definitely be deceiving.
Keep telling yourself that you’re still a good dad, because how I see it...you don't want me to be your daughter...because if you did..you would have been there for me..instead of breaking me..
Now that I am almost grown, it's too late for you to even try to make it up to me..not that you would anyway..
My whole childhood, gone, wasted, just trying to find out what I did wrong...trying to get you to love me..
Guess what.
I’m done trying.
All those years I thought it was my fault..That I did something wrong...wrong enough to make my father hate me...But it never was my fault. It was just you being selfish and ignorant.
You left me heartbroken...and now..its hard for me to act normal..To love..or to trust...because of you.
You really screwed me up. 
I don’t think I can ever forgive you.
You always thought of me as a mistake, you told me that yourself..always pointing out all my flaws..everything that is wrong with me..well guess what..you are the author of this mistake.
You not only hurt me..you hurt the man who makes me feel complete, the one who makes me feel safe..the one who sees me as perfect..he has seen the mess you made me..but he still loves me..that is way more than you ever could do..you never would see me as beautiful, you only see my flaws..you only see my mistakes..you don’t care that I tried my best to make you proud..and to make you love me.. But you never cared. I wish you could see what you have done to me. Did you want your daughter scared to sleep at night? Did you want me to be scared to love again? I wish you could feel the pain you have caused me..but even then you would regret nothing. 
My memories are full of hate and pain..Im trying to forget you..and in order to do that..I have to say goodbye. Goodbye to the man who I used to love more than anything.. Goodbye to the man who was supposed to teach me how a man should treat me. Goodbye to the man who was supposed to be a role model for me. Goodbye to the man who hurt me the most...goodbye.”


“I just want know to why. Why would someone want to wreck someone like this. I want to know why they put this sadness into me. And I want to know if it ever gets better, and if this wave of sadness that constantly comes and drowns me will ever stop. Why would someone do that to the person they were in love with. It was one of the many nights he had hurt me. We were swimming in a lake by my house and I don't know why I was there, because all he put me through in the past week. The abuse . The harassment. The rape. But I was and he was there swimming right next to me. But he kept coming closer and closer. He was holding me, and for a moment I thought it was alright. Until he pushed me under the water rubbing himself on me trying to take off all the cloths until he had. The cold water rushed over all of my body and for a moment I didn't want to come back up to look him in the face.”


“I’m not sure how to share,
But it would be nice to let someone know my story
I have been raped 4 times
It took me years to first admit that it happened to me and even longer to accept it wasn’t my fault.
The first time it happened, was at a party, I was drunk to the point of unconsciousness and I woke up to a boy who I was familiar with from class having sex with my body. That was all it was at that point my body. In the room of a people I used to be friends with. I suppressed it and denied anything had happened when asked if I had any traumatic events in my life by a psychologist who thought I had PTSD. 
I blamed myself for what I wore, being intoxicated, and talking to him before it occurred. From that point I pushed away everyone who offered care or love. I feared intimacy and connection and physical touch. 
I don’t know how to end this, but thank you for letting me speak”


“ I was nine years old when my mother made me chocolate chip pancakes on a Saturday morning. The sun was shining through the skylight and the tv volume was on low as my mother and I chattered. The front door was open so we could hear the quiet hum of cars driving by our house, and the sweet sound of birds chirping outside in our oak tree We both looked up and watched a movie trailer for the new spider man movie. 
My mother turned to me with her spatula in her hand and asked me, “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” 
I thought about it for a moment. “Invisibility,” I responded. She asked me why. 
And i thought about it some more. I told her that if I were invisible she couldn’t see me when I would go outside, so I could forever play in the rain and hear the distant sound of thunder over the mountaintops. I told her that with invisibility I could run through hotel hallways without getting yelled at, and that I could swing on our tire swing until my head hurt. I told her that if no one could see me I could eat as much caramel ice cream as I wanted. I could climb the highest trees in our yard with no one stopping me because my hands will get sappy. I could steel a quarter or two from my moms wallet to get gum balls from the machine down the street, or I could go to the park at night and see the stars until dawn. My mother laughed and kissed me on the forehead, and told me that she loved me. 
And as I smiled and ate my pancakes, I thought about what else I would do if I was invisible. I thought to myself how nice it would be to go to my aunts house and feel safe in the dark. How I could sleep through the night without shivering, even though it wasn’t cold. I wondered if I was invisible, would my cousin still come into my room in the darkest parts of the night? Would he still close the door behind him and tell me to be quiet as he locked the door? Would I be able to take a shower in the morning instead of at 2am when I was broken, bleeding and crying? Would I be able to look him in the eyes as we sat across from one another eating our dinner? I daydreamed of the possibility of being able to go see my aunt and uncle without feeling as if the whole world had crashed down on me. As if my heart broke in half every time he touched me or hugged me goodbye, or waved at me or watched me as I walked through the living room. I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to slap him. I wanted him to go to hell, but everyone around me was convinced that he was going to heaven. 
I was nine years old when my mother made me chocolate chip pancakes on a Saturday morning. Nine years old when every bit of innocence was taken from me as I sobbed silently in the dark.


“My freshman year of high school I really liked this boy, I had heard that he treated girls poorly, but I liked him anyways because he paid attention to me and told me I was pretty. One night we were both at school for some reason and he asked me if I wanted to go outside and talk, and I said yes. It was raining and I thought it was romantic to stand outside in the rain. He led me to the baseball fields and we climbed the fence to sit in the dugout. He immediately grabbed me and started kissing me. I went along with it because after all he was a year older than me and he was really cute. He started to take off my dress and that’s when I knew something was wrong. I told him no and he shushed me and sat down on the dugout bench, pulling me on top of him. He took off my underwear as I tried to stand back up. I don’t know how to say this in any other way, but he raped me, and after when he walked me back to my mom he told me how much he wanted to do it again. I shook all the way home and in the morning I thought I imagined it, but the scrapes on my legs proved me wrong. I thought it was my fault, because I liked him, and I never told anyone.”


“Hello, I’ve had not a very great day. I found this site and I just want to say thank you for letting me know someone is out there trying to make it better for me. For all of us.”


"I was 13 on the Subway in Singapore, I am now 16 and living in the United States, back in my home state, and a man who was about 40 came rubbed himself until he got an erection and shoved it up my school uniform skirt. I was mortified, and scared, and my first thought was that it was my fault that my skirt was so short. I obviously now know that that is ridiculous and not true, but as a result, I didn't tell anyone what had happened until I had moved away from Singapore, I still haven't even told my parents, even though I know that they couldn't blame me. But it's just so difficult, like how do you bring it up? This has been on my chest for 3 years, and it feels amazing to finally write it out. Thanks."


"i was dropping my grandmother off at the airport when this guy came and touched my butt, it happened so fast i didn't know how to react. i always thought that if it came to it i would be able to protect myself because im a boxer and im pretty strong but it happened so fast i didnt even see his face. i felt so powerless and scared that someone thought they had a right over my body. i tried to ignore it the rest of the day but when i got home i broke down in tears. i felt so helpless and small. i am just 14 and i havent told anyone about it. i know its not an extremely horrible thing but this was the first time i was so powerless and invaded in such a way, i havent told anyone yet. i know it isnt my fault but i still feel ashamed."


"In one of my classes about addiction I learned some things about trauma that I want to tell you all. Regardless of what it is from, trauma is a loss of control over something you can’t lose control over. This is obvious in sexual trauma. Either someone you don't know, someone you know well, or someone who was supposed to love you took your control—or made you lose control—of your body, your innocence, your safety, your dignity. Often people that have experienced this early in their life, find themselves drawn to certain types of people, having sex with people they are repulsed by. Ultimately trying to lessen themselves, trying to make what happened bearable, by recreating it as if it could be normal. As if it was what they deserved. People do this is lots of ways, in this case for those same heartbreaking reasons. It is hard enough to acknowledge that the event itself happened, and that is what you all are doing. That is so brave. Then there’s the other part, acknowledging that it happened to you—all of you. Not just the parts of yourself that you tell yourself deserved it. Not just the part of you that didn’t say no one more time, or didn’t say no at all. All I can say about that, is I don’t think you deserved it no matter who you are. You have to try to believe that too."


 "Never have I experienced sexual harassment or assault. Never have I felt my body violated, identity torn from me, or the very ground I stand on collapse. Never have I felt a such pain, never have I been so afraid. But I am certain that one day I will. One day I will be training, or walking to my car. One day I will sense a man behind me, a man lurking, hunting, picking from a crowd of innocent, strong women. One day he will overpower me, he will pin me down. His breath will be a smell that I wake up smelling for the rest of my life, and his touch will burn through my skin every time the sun rises. He will shrivel me, he will destroy me. That might make me weak, that might make me a coward. But when this happens there is no doubt in the deep cuts it gives you. The invisible pain no one can understand. A body is your body to keep, your body to control, to decide actions with. Your body is not a place for men to victimize, to wilt, to touch without consent. But some men do not understand that, they wake up one morning and decide to go pick a flower, and crumble it like it is their god given right to do so. Trough mentally traumatizing efforts and a lifetime of fight, the flower can be put back together, but never returned to its former self. That is a fact, it is a fact that sex crimes are some of the worst. It is a fact that the force of women is strong. But it is also a fact that such crimes are under prosecuted, underreported, and underestimated. And so because of these facts I walk with keys through my fingertips as an instinct, I am afraid to walk on my own. I am afraid of every man who looks at me because I have seen the damage they can do to other 15 year olds. To a 10 year old. To any and all women. I am strong. Women are strong. But women should not have to live in fear every time they walk into an alley, we should not have to carry pepper spray to walk to our mailbox, and should not live knowing that we will be sexually harassed or abused. I have never experienced sexual harassment or assault. I have never felt that fear, that pain. But when I do, I know I have an army at my side.
Thank you to the women, thank you for making me a little less scared of the world. Thank you for your love, your strength, and your brilliance. As long as we have each other's backs, no system, no man, no pain can break us."


"I'm lost somewhere praying I could find myself."


"I got raped." 


"It's hard to let go of the thing which you wanted so badly to be perfect, your dream, your call. A first kiss, and first time. a first love. Its hard, standing there in a dark room your mind going wild trying to convince yourself that you wanted this, this was your call, when you know it wasn't. When he's kissing your neck and moving down, your arms are pressed harshly and held down against the headboard, you cant move. you say no, he calls you a prude, you try to laugh it off. Should I be enjoying this shouldn't I? I mean I did flirt with him earlier didn't I, so I'm not sure why this feels so wrong. I want to throw up, I feel achy and shivery but the hotel room is filled with a bunch of people I don't know and they're all hooking up so I just stay put. He won't stop pushing and I don't know why. Maybe I'm broken? Maybe this is why this doesn't feel right. The words no, stop, I'm not going to do this with you, and..I'm sorry. I say it over and over but it doesn't stop. I should've done more. He falls asleep eventually. The TV is still on playing that nights earlier basketball game, my eyes stay wide open for a while longer, I don't want to sleep but I am insanely exhausted and eventually my eyes close, only to open again not long after. I'm sleeping and he tried to reach into my underwear, he thinks I won't wake up but I do. I can't decide, maybe he'll just stop if I pretend I'm still asleep but he doesn't so I just roll out of his grasp. this happens over and over. There comes a point when my body just can't stay conscious any longer and the next time my eyes open its morning and the sunlight is streaming through the curtains, and hey guy, whose name I don't even know is laying passed out beside me. ........I go home later my muscles are tight and painful and I can barely walk. I worry I feel scared, I feel crazy, and part of me wonders if he could have done more while I was asleep but I have no idea.
I try and talk to a friend about it, but I panic last minute and just brag about the amazing hookup I got at a party I went too. seemed way cooler. and that's what I wanted it to be. and that is what I convinced myself it was for months, months. until the panic attacks and crazy dreams and anxiety caught up and I feel like I finally need to address it. this isn't the first time something like this has happened, started when I was 5. with a friends son. 

I think it's important to own your story and to find a place to feel comfortable, or as safe as you can, talking about the things you have gone through. you should never have to feel alone in anything like this because you aren't. and it is never your fault. To find a way to learn how to love yourself and feel comfortable in your body, to find a way to regain that feeling of secure control over your body, even after these things have happened. it is so hard, but you can be strong and you can do it, and you never have to do it alone."


" Imagine this. The guy you dated in 7th grade. The guy who you loved. The guy who was broken. The guy that abused you. The guy that sexually assaulted you. The guy who raped you. Not once but twice. The guy who then tried to kill himself. Imagine this guy who has been through so much and that put you through so much was coming back to visit you after he moved away. How would you feel because that guy was the guy i was dating and i have to see him tomorrow and I am terrified and I can't tell anyone how I am feeling."


"This boy was in a few of my classes, and he was one of my friends for 3 years now. about a month ago, he would touch my thighs (on top, moving in to my inner thigh and under, moving into my inner thigh) in this class and he always say he was just kidding but now that i think about it, he wasn’t kidding and he just wanted to touch me and he knew i wouldn’t stand up for myself. i though i would just laugh and take it as a joke. even after i said “no” several times, he would still touch me. i asked to teacher to move cause he was “annoying” and he hasn’t done it since. i just don’t want him to do this to anyone else cause he did the same to one of my friends. this bullshit boys play needs to stop!"


"My story- last year I was having a sleepover with a girl while I was dating another girl at the time. I knew the girl I was having a sleepover with was into me but I had told her that we could only be friends because I was with someone else. We decided to drink for fun, we only had two beers between us which is not enough to make someone “drunk” I think. I was a little giggly but she seemed really intoxicated, which I thought might have been placebo or something else. She started to tell me about her feelings for me and I kept mentioning how I just didn’t feel that way about her. However, I was still trying to be polite because I’ve never been able to say “no” to people. During the movie she started touching me and I kept telling her to stop but she’s a lot bigger than me and seemed stronger. I probably could’ve gotten her off of me if I had tried really hard but I didn’t want to make a scene by throwing her off of me. I just kept saying “no” and pushing her off. I felt SO uncomfortable and ashamed the next morning. Our friendship continued with her constantly bad mouthing my girlfriend. Our relationship revolves around drugs and her flirtation. After I found out that my girlfriend had cheated on me, I slept with her. I immediately regretted it because while it was happening I kept saying no To things, like taking my shirt off or letting her do certain things. She also talked down to me while it was happening. I told her it wouldn’t happen again, but whenever I saw her she would ask about when we could “f*ck” again. Everytime I saw her It was all she talked about. She’d stare at me a lot, and when I caught her staring she wouldn’t look away. It scared me, because I kept saying no to her requests but she kept contacting me constantly, trying to do things together again. I kept trying to be polite. Eventually, I found it within myself to drop our friendship after she had repeatedly been graphic and aggressive towards me. I explained to her the times I had felt her pressure me into things and made me uncomfortable, and she said she was sorry but didn’t know what I expected her to say because it happened in the past. Her apathy was really dissapointing. While I recognize that at times I could have and should have been more forceful, I really think she took advantage of me by not listening to all the times I said no."


"It’s scary, walking down a street late at night knowing at any moment someone could come out and just take you, it’s so sad having to think about it when there are also good people in the world. I walked down the street of pucon, while I was on a trip in chile. Now knowing the town too well, I was alone with my cousin. We went into a small store with a few people in it, a man started talking to me and seemed so nice, my Spanish isn’t great so I understood only some of it, then he grabbed my hand and kissed it, I figured it was normal here, a polite greeting, but then he grabbed me waste kissed me hard on the cheek close to my mouth, he kept touching me and wouldn’t stop touching me, I then left quickly. So many people in this world deal with this, not just women. This website is so great."


"I fell helplessly asleep excited for the sun to come back up as at 3:43 am I thought the sun came in early but it was just someone from my blood looking if I was in bed instead of the sun. It went back to night but I thought my blood wanted to come and wait for the sun with me. My blood really wanted the sun to stay down as he held me down. My blood held me down as if the sun were never going to come back. I thought about the sun I pushed until I could see some part of the sun. 3:50"


"It all happened in 7th grade. I was dating a guy that was on my swim team and someone I had been friends with for a while. We were in the same friend group at swim, but I knew what kind of guy he was or so I thought. He was one of those charming guys but he couldn't take no or stop as a sign to stop. None of my friends know how bad it was had gotten with him and not all of them would really understand what I went through. He had some problems at home and turned to taking some stuff, and drinking some stuff, and a lot of it. It seemed that almost every time we were hanging out together he was under the influence. Which made it worse for me. His problems at home he started to take out on me he started to push me against the wall in a rough way trying to get me to do stuff, even though I kept saying no. I could handle myself for most of the times but someother times it was too much. I ended it with him a little after things got to bad for me to handle and I thought that he would be out of my life, but we still saw each other at parties our friends were having and when we were hanging out with the same friend. I thought that all of the harassment and abuse was over but the harassment continued whenever we saw each other he would grope me and pull me in even as I was fighting to get away. Not even my closest friends know how awful it was for me so I tried to channel all of my emotions into my dance but still nobody knows the whole truth. I feel like I should talk to one of my friends that has been through a similar thing but for now saying this will do."


"Someone told a boy that i couldn’t say no to anything and so he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with me. guess what, it ended with me not having enough self respect to say no and fucking a guy i didn’t want to because he saw that i was weaker than him."


"When I was in 5th grade, I was in art class at a table with all boys. I was just trying to have a regular conversation with them when one of the boys abruptly made squeezing motions towards my boobs and said, "Twix candy bars." Over and over again. Throughout the year he kept "Twix candy bars," to me, make squeezing motions towards my boobs, and wink creepily as if we were having sexual relations. The other boys were legitimately freaked out about what happened in art class, and later teased and laughed at him about it, and my only choice was to laugh with them to keep from crying because what they didn't know was everything else he had done to me. Later on in the year, my Language Arts class was performing Shakespeare, and of course, there was a scene where we had to hug. Whenever we rehearsed the scene, he would smile in such a way comparable to that of a serial killer in horror movies. Whenever we hugged he would try to touch my boobs in a slight way so that it would seem like an accident to everybody except for us because we both knew the truth. This might just seem like 'boys being boys,' but he scared me, and now, partially because of him, I have problems trusting people, especially of the male gender. This isn't comparable next to lots of the terrible things girls my age have and do have to deal with, but no one should have to feel the way I did, and I hope that he won't harass any more girls."


"I was dating this guy, he wanted sex and I said no. He kept trying to pressure me into it. He asked me if he could go down on me, again I continued to say no. One day he told me he'd kill himself if I didn't let him do stuff to me, so I just said okay. I lost my virginity to him and I hate myself for it. Then the next day he was talking about it to his friends and making ME sound like a slut."


"For three years of my life I went to school with this boy, he was short and not very strong. The first year I was with him he only did things like ask me out over and over ( I always said no) but then in the next two years he actually started doing things like touch my butt and boobs, my classmates saw what he did but everyone thought it was sorta funny, they didn’t stop him so I didn’t tell them how it actually made me feel. There were a couple times when I was alone with him sometimes it was ok but a couple times said to me exactly how he would rape me it i ever past out. That was the thing that has stayed with me even after he is no longer at my school, hering the words he said to me was one of the most terrifying things I have ever felt. I just hope he doesn’t hurt more girls and that he gets the help he needs to stop."


" I dated a guy for a year and a half. All my trust was in him. He was always sort of aggressive I guess, but never towards me usually. One day he decided he wanted sex. I told him no. Not once. Not twice. Three times. And yet here I am typing my story. Almost a year ago today my trust was taken and shattered. Things take time. But they get better."


"Being a young girl is hard enough. But living with a secret nearly no one knows, is torture. This is my story. I was seven. Seven. I’m not going to go into detail but not all baby sitters should be trusted. My mom was counting on a teen boy to take care of her daughter. I was so innocent. My innocence was supposed to be taken in my own time, but no. My current best friends brother raped me. I’m too scared to tell her, because I love her too much. Not all boys are bad. Some boys make you feel like a gem, but he is rotten. Ever since that day, I am especially different. This effected me, where I felt more sexualized at a young age. I am now 14. I think about this all the time, how this has changed me. This shit boy felt he had the fucking right to take that away from me. Did he not understand the word “no”. No means no. Just yesterday a boy was harassing me online, I continued to say no but he wouldn’t stop. I blocked him, but the thing that makes this so hard is you can’t erase what happens to you, you can’t physically block somebody. I am stronger, but still broken."


"I was at my best friends house. We were playing games when her brother came in. He told me to go into his room, take off my clothes and lay down. Moments later I felt the intense pressure of his fingers inside me. I was six years old. To this day i've never felt he has been rightfully condemned for what he did. "


"I was 12 at the time; 7th grade. She had been in 2 or 3 of my classes and after school we had theater rehearsal every other day. She first started trying to become closer to me, physically and socially. She would constantly talk to me and didn't pick up on social cues when I was uncomfortable. She had a type of chromosome disfunction, making her appear and act childish so I tried my best not to think too much about it. But it quickly grew to an uncomfortable point. She would always be in the changing room when I was there. On stage, we had stage hugs and such and she would always try to go up my shirt or feel the outline of my bra. Sometimes she would trace her hand from the top of my neck to my butt, holding the position for as long as she could. In class she would stare at my breasts, almost memorized. I told some of my close friends about it after almost 3 or 4 weeks of it happening. They told the teacher and she talked to me about it, but I tried to hide it because I thought I was being rude to the girl because she had a disability. The school counselor found out and asked me about it. I felt like I was in the wrong, doing something wrong. My school didn't do anything about it. They said they talked to the girl, but nothing changed at theater. Every time I had to change into or out of a costume, I ran into the single stall gender neutral bathroom because I was so scared of her watching me. She still did the same stuff to me like touching me and trying to hug me. Soon, the show was over and I tried to avoid her even more. I still had classes with her. I had to request for teachers not to sit us next to each other or to put my seat behind hers so she couldn't directly stare at me. This continued from December to the end of May. In 8th grade, I initially had a couple classes with her. I had to talk to the vice principal and the counselor, basically begging them to not let me have classes with her. They switched me out of most, except one class. The entire year I felt like I had done something to deserve it. I felt like I did something wrong. She switched schools the beginning of 9th grade. I thought that was the end of it. Until Halloween. I was trick or treating with my girlfriend at the time and she was with the group of trick or treaters in front of us. I cannot describe the disgust and humiliation that followed. My girlfriend knew about what happened and pretended like something happened to get us out of the situation. The most awful part about that night...she thought we were still friends. Sexual harassment can happen between girls. It can happen between anyone of any age, ethnicity, race, gender, etc. It can happen to and by someone with a physical disability. Speak up. My old school didn't do a good job about anything that happened. I had years of therapy because of what happened. It was not my fault. It is not my fault. I am still here. I am not alone."


"There is this kid in my class. I always admired him and I wanted to be friends with him. But he started acting way way inappropriate towards me. And I know that he would never actually want to have sex with me but what he was doing made me feel bad. He was just touching me and breathing on me and making me feel uncomfortable. And he told me he would not stop. And it’s gotten better, I got the school involved but he still does stuff like touch my desk and I just don’t want to interact with him. I literally last night had a dream about standing up to him and this time making sure he knows that he can’t do anything at all. But I missed my chance and what he is doing now is not big enough to go to anyone. I know I can manage and that he is tiny and insignificant but still. I hate the way he makes me feel and I want him to go away forever. But it won’t happen so I have to make do."