Part 8 Of What Happened To Me

TRIGGER WARNING

It has been a little over four months since I sat down and wrote anymore of "My Story", the story of what happened to me during those 23 hours I was held against my will in my rapist's van. I'm not sure if I will be able to get much out this time but I am going to give it a try and see how far I get. As always, to the best of my recollection; this part of my story starts off where the previous part ended.

I guess it was around 8:00am September 3rd, 2011. It had been about an hour since he had untied me, and for that hour he hadn't spoken to me, touched me, or for all accounts did anything other than sit there on his cooler full of ice, drinks, and food and stare at me. I lay there on that crappy blow-up mattress and didn't really move at all. In all honesty I felt like I wasn't really there, I felt numb, and as if my mind was separated from my body. I can't remember if my back, legs, and everything else he beat was hurting. I don't really remember what my body felt like. I sort of felt like I was floating above myself and that my body was no longer part of me. Of course now I know why I felt that way. I was disassociating. From what I can tell it was my body's way of protecting me from what was going on. I think maybe I might have been semiconscious and phasing in and out of micro nap sleep cycles. After all I know I was exhausted both mentally and physically.

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.

A Self Interview: (A Therapy Assignment) 10 Questions

This is an assignment that my therapist asked me to complete before our therapy session on Monday. She gave me these questions and this is how I answered them.

Question  - How would you classify what happened to you?

Answer - I would classify what he did to me as sadistic. It was a sexual, physical, emotional, and verbal form of abuse. It was rape, torture, humiliation, selfish, and evil.

Question - What if any effects does your classification of what he did to you, have on you?

Answer - It's a very surreal feeling and it affects my sense of worth and peace of mind. It also makes me feel used. I feel like I have lost purpose and the very thing that makes me who I am has been stripped away and I am left with all the things he said I was. Like a piece of meat or that I was put on this earth to be a tool and a slut or that I am a stupid whore.

Question - What kind of things did he do to you?

Answer - He beat me, raped me, beat me some more, raped me again. He molested me, put things inside me and purposefully hurt me. He spit on me, urinated on me, and ejaculated on me and in me. He tied me up so that I couldn't even fight back. He kicked me, choked me, burned me, and kissed me. He basically tortured me while he sexually abused me. He talked down to me and humiliated me like I wasn't an individual and treated me like I was property that didn't matter because I was disposable.

Question - How did those things make you feel then and how does it make you feel now?

Answer - Then it made me feel alone, scared, abandoned by GOD and everyone I loved. Now it makes me feel like everything I have ever been told and made to believe about myself that is good was a lie. It makes me question and doubt the honesty of everyone around me. I now assume that if someone gives me a compliment I am being lied to because they feel sorry for me. Someone can tell me, "You're pretty", but what I hear is, "you have scars on your face and you are painful to look at but I will lie and try to make you feel better". Someone can tell me, "You're smart and articulate", but what I hear is, "you're so stupid for allowing yourself to be tricked an manipulated into getting into his van, but I don't want to hurt her feelings and tell her how stupid she is so i will lie". Someone can tell me, "You deserve love and happiness", but I hear, "You are already so broken I would hate to have you commit suicide and then have that on my conscious so I will lie to you and try to give you hope where there is none".

Question - What was the worse thing he did to you?

Answer - I can't talk about that for legal reasons but I do need to talk about it. There's more going on then I can talk about. Sorry that I can't answer that.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?

Answer - It made me feel like I don't deserve happiness and that no one especially a guy could ever be interested in me. It makes me not feel like a girl and I feel like theirs nothing about me that could ever be desirable.

Question - What was the most painful thing he did to you?

Answer - Again this is a question that I can't currently answer because of legal reasons. I wish I could, sorry.

Question - How did that make you feel and how do you feel about that now?

Answer - It made me feel pain, intense blinding pain. I now feel like I am broken and incomplete. I feel like I am not me anymore.

Question - If there was one thing you could change about what he did to you, what would it be and why?

Answer - It is hard to narrow it down to one thing but if I had to pick one thing it would be that he didn't manipulate me. If he never manipulated me, none of this would have happened and I wouldn't have been fooled into trusting him.

Question - If you could ask your assailant only one question and he had to answer that question truthfully what would your question be?

Answer - There are so many questions I want the answer to, but unfortunately I don't think any answers will help me deal with this. That leaves me with a question that might help others. I would ask him. "Where is the evidence that answers the questions of what happened to other girls other than me? I would ask that because I can only assume that I wasn't his first. His manipulation seems too refined and polished.

Part 6 Of What Happened To Me

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My Statement To The Court (Revised) 17 Days Till Sentencing

In just under seventeen days the monster who hurt me will be sentenced for his crimes. As a survivor I am given the right to address the court during his sentencing. The following text will be my statement to the court. To read the original version go here.

Thank you for allowing me this opportunity to speak.

Every two minutes in the United States someone is sexually assaulted. That adds up to 213,000 sexual assaults each year. Almost 94,000 of those sexual assaults involve people younger than age 18. A staggering 128,000 sexual assaults each year are never reported to the police. This translates to a sad fact that 15 out of 16 individuals who commit an act of sexual assault never see a day in jail for their crime. I as a survivor of rape want answers. I want to know why the statistics favor the assailants so much more that the victim.

I never thought I would be a victim of rape. I don't think anyone thinks they'll be a victim of rape. When something as awful as rape happens and we hear about it, we often have this voice in the back of our mind that tells us that it will never happen to me. I had that voice. It's a harsh reality to accept, but I was raped, sodomized, and beaten repeatedly by the defendant.

The defendant held me captive in his van for nearly twenty three hours. During this twenty three hour nightmare I was naked and not allowed to cover up. I was raped vaginally eleven times, raped by means of sodomy three times, raped orally five times, and molested in so many ways I can't even count. During these assaults I was made helpless and unable to defend myself by his use of handcuffs, rope, and shreds of my own clothes that he cut off of me with his pocket knife. This was the same knife that he held against my throat as he joked around about killing me. The same knife he held against other parts of my body promising to mutilate me in order to force me into compliance with his twisted desires.

Several hours into this nightmare I gave up trying to fight. I simply allowed him to be my puppet master. I accepted that I would eventually be murdered. He then used the threats of even more vile forms of torture to sway me into performing sexual acts for him. These threats included tools like hammers, nails, blow torches, knives, and chemicals such as Drano, lighter fluid, and paint thinner. He also threatened to break my bones one at a time if I didn't look him in the eyes while he abused me. All of these threats but one he spared me of.

The defendant eventually let me go. He drove his van in front of my home, opened the side door to his van, and pushed me out onto the pavement. I never will forget the last words he said to me just before he drove away. "Thank you bitch, I had a great time."

I struggled to run into the safety of my home where I could cover myself. My dad drove me to the hospital. I was treated for dehydration, cuts, bruises, and a broken arm. I received a total of thirty seven stitches in the emergency room. Then I spent several humiliating hours being subjected to evidence collection to make sure the defendant's guilt would be proven. Sixteen days later I found out that I needed surgery to fix a perforated bowel. I also found out that I was pregnant and since I have never been with a man, the defendant was the sperm donor. One month later while in school I miscarried and lost this baby whom my dad and I were in the process of finding a suitable family for adoption.

I didn't only receive a broken arm, cuts, bruises, tears, and internal damage that required surgery to repair, but I also have emotional injuries that I will continue to heal from long after my body's injuries have healed. This is something that will affect me for the rest of my life. The defendant took something from me during those twenty three hours where he raped and beat me at his leisure. It's more then my virginity or my body. It's my peace of mind, comfort, and sense of security. It's a first sexual experience that I always hoped would be tender and beautiful. No longer will I have hope that my first sexual experience will be a beautiful sharing between two lovers. I will always have the memory of me being raped and the chance of the emotional pain resurfacing during a future relationship.

I have spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how to deal with the emotional damage this assault has caused me. In all honesty I have had a difficult time calling what he did to me rape. I have said he hurt me, assaulted me, and other terms to describe what he did to me. The reason why is because rape is such a horrible thing. In many ways I guess I was afraid of the word rape nearly as much as I was afraid to be in his van. I want the court to know that I'm not afraid, but mostly I want the defendant to know that I am not afraid of the word rape anymore; nor am I afraid of him.

I come here urging this court to pass fair sentence on the defendant. I honestly do not know what would be a fair punishment. I could never be impartial because I am far too vested in his punishment. As a result I will not hint as to what I feel is a fair sentence. I will simply put my faith is the wisdom of this court and expect this court to deliver due justice so that a message is sent to anyone who would choose to do harm to another person in this manner that justice will be served and crimes of the nature will not go unpunished. The cycle of sexual assaults and relaxed judgments against the assailants have to stop. Let this be the beginning of shifting the statistics that favor the assailant to statistics that favor the survivors. Without this shift in societal paradigm we can never hope to end sexual violence.

Thank you again for this opportunity to let my voice be heard.

Court Order Of Protection (follow up)

This post is actually a continuation of the Court Order Of Protection post I made 2 weeks ago.

Two weeks ago when dad and I filed for a Court Order Of Protection we were given a court date for a hearing regarding this petitioned order of protection. Meanwhile the judge granted me an E.P.O. (emergency protection order) to protect me until the hearing we had today. At this hearing our lawyer explained to the judge the circumstances behind all of this. The judge then required me to explain to him what happened at school with the half brother of the guy who raped me. I reluctantly explained to the judge what happened. Although this all happened in closed chambers being that I am a minor, it was still fairly unsettling. Still I need to get use to it being that in 3 weeks I will be speaking to the court during the sentencing of the guy who raped me.

To make a long story short, the order of protection against the half brother was extended for 18 months. I also found out some more information about the content of the communication between the half brother and the rapist. There wasn't direct threats or even indirect threats made toward me, but the guy who raped me was sharing detailed information about what he did to me to his half brother. The human thing for the half brother to do would have been to tell the rapist that he's sick to be talking about this and break off contact with him. According to what I was told and what the court was told, these communications between them shown a mutual sense of indifference toward my well-being. I think that basically means that remorse isn't being felt by the rapist and the half brother must have been enjoying the descriptions of what the rapist did to me.

My dad made the right choice to take me out of public school and into home schooling for the remainder of this year. Dad is talking about private school for my 11th and 12th grade years. My lawyer, dad, and I have an appointment with the principal of the school I was attending (the school the half brother attends) to inform them of what is going on so that they can further decide if the half brother belongs around other students. My lawyer seems to think that the school board will ultimately remove him from school after he turns 18. I don't know when his birthday is, there's a lot of things I don't know right now. I do know my stress O-meter is maxed out right now.

I was told by the judge that if the half brother has any contact with me I need to call the police immediately and tell them that I have an order of protection against him. The judge said the cops will resolve the situation and if need be arrest him. I also had a concern of my own that I wanted to ask the judge. I asked about my rights to name names or write about all of this in my blog and online support forums. He said in regards to the guy who raped me, I can talk about any and everything I choose to and even mention his name as long as I only stick to the facts submitted in court. Being that I have talked about things that happened to me that never made it into court records, I am going to continue to not disclose his name for the foreseeable future. I was also instructed that there's no law restricting my right to mention the half brothers name, but it would be best to not mention it to keep the chances of frivolous slander accusations to a zero. The short of it is, I will not mention names now or in the future on my blog or forums.

In three more weeks I will face the courts and my rapist for the last time in many years, I hope. In some ways I don't feel like I am ready to speak up in court, but I want so badly for there to be a resolution to all of this. I hope this will be the resolution that I need, in order to start feeling like me again and feel empowered.

Introducing A Blog That I Often Read (Finding Your Voice Of Truth)

I would like to suggest a blog to anyone who has been a victim of abuse. Finding Your Voice Of Truth is a blog written by a Life Coach, Writer, Truth Teller, Healing Catalyst, Group and Retreat Facilitator, Novice Art Journaler, Business Goddess, , Blogger, Aspiring Screenwriter, Mother, Animal Lover, Wannabe Vegan, and a survivor of childhood abuse named Stephanie Gagos.

I often read this blog for advice and coping techniques. Last night I read the following short blog post on her blog.

The Scream Inside There is a scream inside, one that is waiting to be expelled, waiting to have its day. Life can hit us hard at times. Emotions get stirred up, rumbling inside us without the having the opportunity to discharge.

Pent up rage, fear, grief, swirling endlessly as we make our way through the world with smiles on our faces.

Let go of the scream. Go in your car and scream, lock yourself in a room, do it when no one is home, scream into a pillow several times, go into nature. Find a way to give your scream the privacy it needs to come into being.

Let the sound of your own pain have a voice. Honor the scream inside. You do not have to be silent anymore.

This morning when I finally had the house to myself I let my scream be expelled. I did this in hope of getting rid of stress, clearing my mind, and expressing emotion. I grabbed a pillow off my bed and then went into a closet in the hallway so that my screams wouldn't be noticeable by neighbors. One of the last things I want is a neighbor hearing me scream and calling the police. It would make an interesting story though.

At first I wasn't screaming, I was ranting. I was for a lack of a better word bitching about my mom no longer being alive to help me through this difficult time. I began to complain out loud about the guy who hurt me and how messed up I feel because of him. Before I knew it I was crying and my rants had turned into angry screeches. I yelled some of the worst unladylike words and nearly all of them were directed toward the monster who hurt me. I'm not sure how long the screams lasted.

At one point my angry screams changed to something else. Something I can only describe as pain. My screams morphed into an unintelligible gibberish. My knees shook so bad that I could no longer stand on my feet. I rolled onto my side and curled up into a ball. I had all these images, sensations, and horribly painful body memories surround me. In all honesty it was the first time I truly cried after my rape. I don't mean I haven't had tears fall from my eyes before this morning. There's a huge difference between a few tears and an uncontrolled outward flow of emotions. Again I have no idea how long I lay on my side.

Somewhere along the line my cries stopped and I sat up against the wall of the inside of the closet, while resting my head against the pillow. I fell asleep, and it was a peaceful sleep. It was the most peaceful sleep I have had since September 1st, 2011 which was the night before he hurt me. I feel pretty good right now. Not only physically but emotionally as well.

I don't know if this is something that will help anyone else who tries this. I can only attest to it's benefit to me. 

I officially want to thank Stephanie G from Finding Your Voice Of Truth for so freely providing a blog filled with such useful articles. 

The Unfair Fight

Most of you have read this already but I haven't posted it into the feed until now.

The Unfair Fight

It was an unfair fight,

a struggle of death and life.
He waged war throughout the night,

I defended him off past the morning light.

No choice was given,

as he to my heart did riven.

Made vulnerable I was for the taken,

why did he choose my soul to be forsaken?

He released the binds,

I into freedom then ran to find.

Although unwillingly I lost to his might,

I had no choice for this war was an unfair fight.

-Jaime

Evaporating Soul

Evaporating Soul

His piercing eyes burned an eerie red

scorching the landscape of my body.

They saw right into my guarded fears 

leaving my spirit shamed and broke.

His breath was soured with evils scent

as his fangs tore through my defenses.

He must have savored my flesh and blood

for he feasted so many hours.

His fists pummeled away my last hope

branding me in shades of red and blue.

Marks of his dominance on display

serving as a trophy for his pleasure. 

His claws shred through my sense of worth

leaving empty destruction to reign.

My soul dripped off his finger tips

I evaporate into nothingness.

-Jaime

The Beginning Of My Story Of What Happened

I have struggled with the idea of if I should post the story of the 23 hours that this guy kept me prisoner in his van, on my blog. I have posted this short description of the beginning on a support forum but there's a difference. None of my friends, family, or anyone I know in real life are a member of any support forums, and I pray that they will never have a need for one. However, my therapist, family, and friends know about this blog. I guess in some ways it might be easier to post here in text for everyone in real life to read then it will be to explain in words to them one at a time.

September 14, 2011 (Just Now Shared Here)

My friends and I had just got out of school and being that it was Friday we are aloud to stay out a little later then usual. My best friend who's name I won't disclose already has her license and we decided that we were going to go to the mall and hangout for a while. We did the typical things like shop and try on cloths that neither of us could afford to buy. While we were wondering from store to store we ran into a guy from school. I will simply refer to him in generic terms like him, guy, or he. We knew him but neither of us would really consider him a friend, just an acquaintance. Still we was having fun. It was kind of different, kind of new to be hanging around a guy even if he was into the whole grunge look that I don't understand.

My friends and I hung around with each other and that guy for several hours. My friends kept giving me the look. They kept telling me that he liked me. Sure he's a little weird, but aren't all guys. Besides even though I wasn't interested in him at all at first it still feels nice to have a guy pay attention, especially when he's 18 and a senior in high school. I would be lying if I said I didn't have at least a few passing thoughts of being the 10th grade girl with a boyfriend who's a senior. I even had a passing thought of what if we did start dating and it was next year and I would be the high school girl dating a college guy. Sure, I know how silly it is to have even passing thoughts about a guy like that when I don't even really know them.

As it got later and later into the evening we all became a little hungry. We went to Taco Bell to get something to eat. That guy was standing right beside me and asked me what I wanted. I thought he was just curious, but as we walked up to the counter he ordered for the both of us and he referred to me as a lady. " I will have.... and the lady will have....", he said. Again I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel a little special. We all sat down to eat and he refilled my drink and grabbed napkins for me along with hot sauce. He even took the paper wrapper off of my straw for me. I started to like this guy, he was a little weird in the way he dressed but he seemed like such a gentleman.

When we all left Taco Bell him and I was walking behind the rest of my friends. We was bumping gently against each other. It was that gentle physical contact that always seemed to be a flirtatious prelude to holding hands. There's a decorative water fountain in this mall that people throw loose change in. We all stood next to it talking and while I was staring at the fountain I felt a chill because the cool air from the air conditioner vent was right over top of me. That guy was standing behind me and his hands rubbed me on my arms and made the chill go away. For just a second I closed my eyes because it felt so comforting. Here's this older guy who I don't even really know all that well. He is paying attention to me and being seemingly very attentive to my needs. I mean come on he bought me food, he didn't offer to buy for anyone else. He warmed my arms with his hands. We were flirting, it all seemed so innocent and safe and a part of me felt special. Suddenly this weird grunge guy didn't seem so weird.

My friends decided it was time for them to leave to go home. I gave her the look that was meant to ask her to stay a little longer being that she was my ride home. She knew instantly what I meant and she asked the guy if he had a car. She knew he had a car, I knew he had a car. She figured it would give him the opportunity to offer to give me a ride home. He offered, and I accepted.

My dad has always told me to be careful of who I hang around with and especially who's car I get into. I guess I always assumed it would never happen to me. I certainly wouldn't have thought this guy who has spent the last few hours being nice to me would hurt me. It's a strange feeling to look back at this now and see it from the perspective of knowing what led to this happening. Emotionally I look at all the things I could have did differently and my emotional instinct tells me that I messed up for trusting someone I didn't know and getting into their car. My logical instinct tells me that I had no warning signs and that if there were any warning signs I wouldn't have gotten into a vehicle with a guy I barely know. That's the emotional tug of war that I'm struggling with right now. A part of me wants to blame myself for not listening and trusting in the wisdom my dad has always tried to instill in me. The other part is looking for someone to blame and it's like I have this inescapable gravitational field that guilt and blame is using to orbit my existence. Sometimes it feels that my emotional reasoning is slowing down the orbiting speed of this blame and guilt and the gravity is pulling it ever closer.

My friends left and went home leaving me there with this guy. In many ways I was happy to be alone with him. I know it sounds juvenile but I sort of felt like an adult on an adult date. It's silly because we wasn't on a date, we was just hanging out, having fun, and getting to know each other. We walked around the inside of the mall and a few times he made me laugh. Although he wasn't particularly funny I allowed myself to laugh a little more then I normally would have. Maybe I thought if I made him feel cool, he would continue to make me feel special.

I began to think about kissing this guy. I don't mean I thought about initiating it, but simply wanted to be prepared if it happened. As we were walking past the restrooms I excused myself so that I could go in there and get the Taco Bell taste out of my mouth. I always keep those single use toothbrushes in my purse just in case, and this seemed like as good of a time as any. When I walked back out he had his hand behind his back and as I walked up to him he presented me with a single red rose that he had bought from a crafts store while I was in the bathroom. Sure it wasn't a real rose, but it still made me smile and I hugged him. His actions were so sweet and disarming. His actions suppressed my defenses that had always been there to guard my personal space.

As we was walking out to his car I built up the courage to reach for his hand and place mine in his. He gently squeezed my hand in return. When we got to his car which wasn't a car, it was a old van he opened the passenger door for me. He held my hand as I climbed in. I'm so short, only five foot tall and although I have always prided myself in not needing a guy, it still felt nice to be helped. It all felt nice.

Just behind the two front seats was a curtain that was pulled shut. I began to pull the curtain open a little because I was curious, but he was already opening the drivers door and I didn't want to seem nosey. We talked for a few minutes before we drove out of the mall parking lot. He told me that we was going strait to my house which was a good idea because I had to be home at 11pm and it was already almost 10:30. We were a few miles from my house and he said that something was wrong with his van and he needed to pull over and check on things. He turned in to a deserted parking lot and parked. He asked me if I had a cell phone because he might have to call his dad. I blindly handed him my phone. He got out and opened the hood and was looking inside. I reach for the door handle to open it so that I could see if I could help in any way. There wasn't a door handle or a window crank, only an arm rest. This was the first time that I felt any sort of sense of apprehension come over me. Still I didn't think too much of it because after all it was an old van and old cars need to be fixed, right? After a few minutes he climbed back into the van and I didn't see my cell phone in his hand. I asked him if the car was okay and if I could have my phone back. Suddenly everything changed. His voice changed. His mannerism changed and the look in his eyes changed. All the red lights in my head suddenly went off. I didn't feel as safe as I felt before, I didn't feel as comfortable as I did just a few minutes ago. I wanted my phone so that I could call my dad and have him come get me. It was so sudden. I didn't see it coming. I have this one image of him quickly moving toward me, and then the blinding sensation of his fist hitting me just below my left eye. I was so dazed and so confused. I was having trouble understanding and processing what was going on. The first few seconds is still a blur. I felt semiconscious as he wrapped his arm around my neck and dragged me through the curtain and through a doorway cut into a wall of plywood. When he shut the makeshift door and pad locked it trapping me inside with him I screamed. I begged him not to hurt me, I begged him to let me go. When I climbed into his van twenty minutes earlier I had no idea that I would spend the next twenty three hours in that van wondering if I was going to live to see my dad and little sister again.

This is all I can write right now.

(3 days ago)

I have been struggling with how to tell my dad what happened. I mean he knows what happened, but not in any sort of detail. I let him read this about thirty minutes ago then we talked about it. Well he mostly talked while I cried. Most of the words that came out of his mouth were distorted by the tears that were running down his face. He was trying so hard to comfort me, and to be the strong father I needed him to be. I think we were both emotionally overloading and I had to hug him and step away into my room and give each of us some alone time to deal with this.