Part 7 Of What Happened To Me

This part of my story picks up where the previous part left off. This to the best of my recollection and estimation took place between 1:30 am and 7:00 am September 3rd, 2011. I feel it prudent to make the readers aware that this part is likely to be triggering for the following reasons, rape, sexual, and physical abuse.

This part of my story I will describe the most painful thing he did to me. Keep in mind this was the most painful thing he did to me physically, not emotionally. I can't really talk about the most painful emotional thing yet and I have only told two people other than my dad, hospital, and law enforcement. I might be able to talk about that sometime in the future, but I am reasonably sure I won't share it on my blog. Okay, now to the most physically painful thing. Here we go I guess.

Okay, after my assailant climbed out of the van he was gone for 15 or 20 minutes. Like I said before I have no idea where he went, but I do know what he came back to his van with. I will get into that in a little bit. While he was gone I kept trying to get my hands free from the duct tape that he had me tied up with. I tried as hard as I could but I just couldn't get my hands free. I had no idea how long he would be gone or where he was so I thought that it could be a possibility that he would leave me in there so long that my sugar may drop dangerously low. I could already tell that it was dropping. Being that I am diabetic and suffer from Hypoglycemia I have to eat several small meals throughout the day to keep my sugar from getting too low. Even though at this point it had only been about 5 hours since I ate the Taco Bell, I guess between the stresses of all of this my sugar was already dropping, but it just barely was. Anyway, I am getting off track. Being that I had no idea where he went or how long he would be gone I decided that I had to scream for help and hope that someone other than him would hear me. The thing is he had placed duct tape over my mouth also. I guess being that he had previously taken it off and put it back on, it had lost some of its stickiness. Between pushing on the tape with my tongue and trying to open my mouth, I finally managed to get the tape to come loose. I probably should have been hesitant about screaming, but I just wanted to go home and be saved. As soon as the tape came loose I began to scream. I screamed as loud as I could and as long as I could. I screamed mostly just shrieks, but I also screamed the words "Help me, I'm in here". I screamed for about 5 minutes I think. My throat hurt.

Suddenly I felt the van I was in begin to shake side to side, and then some really loud bangs on the side of it. My mind was telling me that maybe it was someone here to help me, but my heart knew it was him. I heard a voice yell, "Shut up bitch". Then the side door of the van opened and I saw my assailant standing there with one of those plastic Wal-Mart bags in his hand. I was still sort of lying on my stomach and side. He reached down to the back of my neck and pushed my face into the floor of the van. He pushed my face down hard enough that I tasted a little bit of blood in my mouth. My lip was cut; I guess my teeth cut it. He talked very calmly and said to me, "I told you earlier that you can scream all you wanted to, no one will hear you. Scream while the door is open that way your voice will carry. Go ahead and scream, scream, I AM TELLING YOU TO SCREAM, SCREAM FOR HELP".

I didn't scream, I knew he was telling the truth because the entire time I have been in that van I haven't heard any sounds from outside. I didn't hear any car horns or traffic, no birds, animals, or any sounds. I did cry, which of course was pointless being that I think that's what he wanted me to do. He climbed back in the van and shut the door behind him. He grabbed a hold of the tape that was around my wrist and dragged me back over to the cooler where he sat down. He then began to remove the duct tape from around my wrists, hands, and arms. He wasn't gentle about it; he was just ripping the tape off. It hurt so much but it felt good to know that I might have a chance to fight him, I wanted to fight him, I wanted to hit him and run to safety. As he removed the last bit of tape I lied there motionless, hopping that he would drop his guard enough to give me an opportunity. He reached into the Wal-Mart bag and took out a bottle of Sprite. He told me that he had one for me too. I sat up really slowly and he reached out and handed me the bottle. I was thirsty, and I knew the Sprite would help keep my sugar from dropping. I accepted the bottle and tried to take the cap off, but my hands were still too numb from being tied up. He twisted the cap loose for me. I took several small sips and I could feel the cold drink go all the way down to my stomach. It's weird that I remember that detail. Maybe it's because it was one of the comforting things he did. Over the next few minutes I drank a little less than half of the bottle, he had drank all of his. He turned his eyes away from me and began to mess with something next to the cooler he was sitting on. This was my opportunity; I tightened the cap on the Sprite bottle and slowly shook the bottle so that the co2 would pressurize the bottle. Then with all my strength I swung the bottle toward the side of his head like the back swing with a tennis racket and hit him in the side of his face. I then turned to the side door and began to try and open it, but it wouldn't open, it was like it was locked. I turned to look over my shoulder at him, and he was just sitting there looking at me. He didn't seem to be the slightest bit worried about me escaping. That told me one of two things, either he knew I couldn't get the door open, or he knew that there wasn't anywhere to run to. I don't really know what he was thinking, but I do know that I wasn't able to get the door open. Maybe I was panicking or not thinking clearly, I'm not sure, but I never did get the door open. I simply kneeled on my knees in a semi-fetal position, leaned somewhat against the door, while I cried and shook.

He stood up and pulled me to my feet by my hair, and then he punched me in my stomach. It felt like I was dying, I couldn't breathe, I fell back down to the floor. He then raped me again like he did so many times. I tried fighting him off a little, but mostly I just tried to leave myself so that I wouldn't feel him. After he finished he told me that it was time for me to be punished for hitting him and trying to get away. He said that as if being raped wasn't already so cruel that it could have been used as a punishment.

I am going to try and make this somewhat short. While he sat on me, holding me down on the air mattress he used rope to tie my wrists together in front of me. He then lifted my hands over my head and tied the other end of the rope to the bottom of the back doors. He stood up and grabbed me by my ankles and lifted me up and turned me over on my stomach. He then tied my ankles together and tied the other end to something. He pulled the rope so tight. He pulled me by my ankles until my arms were pulled tightly in front of me. He jerked on the rope around my ankles to get it tighter and tighter until I felt like I was being pulled apart in the shoulders. It was so tight I actually had trouble breathing, kind of like trying to breathe while hanging from monkey bars. I couldn't even move, I could move my fingers, toes, and head, but that's about it. For the next 4 or 5 hours I was tied in this position. About once an hour he would use a belt to beat me with. He would beat me continuously for up to 10 minutes, and then stop and rest. Sometimes he only used the leather of the belt, and other times he used the buckle end. He did this over and over. He hit my back, legs, butt, and where ever else he decided to. I think this may have been the thing that broke me, or maybe it was a combination of everything up to this point. I do know after this I didn't even think of fighting back, I was too scared. Near the end of these 4 or 5 hours I felt him pouring something onto me. It burned like hydrogen peroxide on a cut. At first I didn't understand why it was so warm, but I soon understood. He wasn't pouring anything on me, he was urinating on me. That's so disgusting, to think about. I actually had to run to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet while I was writing this section. He then sat back down on the cooler and ate some soup out of a can while listening to the radio. He was listening to the same channel I listen to, 97.5 fm WAMZ. I haven't been able to listen to that station since. He finally untied me and left me alone for about an hour. I lied there sort of outside myself.

I had so many whelps and bruises on my back, butt, and legs that it took more than two weeks for the pain to go away. I couldn't really sit in a chair without it hurting, but I couldn't lie in bed without being triggered because of the sensation of lying down.

As long as it took for the physical pain from this entire ordeal to go away, as long as it took for my physical wounds to heal, they eventually did heal and it is only logical to assume that my emotional pain and wounds will also heal. It's just going to take such a long time, but I want to feel like me again, I want to heal.

I wish this was the end of my story, but unfortunately at this point in my story, after he untied me to let me alone for an hour or so, it was only around 7:30 am September 3rd, 2011. He didn't let me free until around 9:30 pm later that night. I still have so much more I need to get out, so much more crap I have to unload before I can breathe. I can do it, and I will do it, but this is all I can handle right now.