May 26th - What Could Have Been

This is a weird time for me for several reasons, but the main reason that comes to mind is because of what the next seven days represent. It represents what could have been and what would have been coming to an end for me and beginning a new for someone else. The more I think about it the more it sort of boggles my mind and leaves me feeling empty. It's that empty feeling that I am having trouble wrapping my head around.

May 26th, 2012 would have been a very difficult day for me. It would have likely been the most painful day I had ever known and it would have likely been one of the most emotionally trying day. May 26th, 2012 which is only one week from today would have been the due date of the child I lost while I was in a restroom at school. It would have been the day I would be VOLUNTARILY handing over my parental rights and responsibility as a parent, to someone I entrusted to do the job I think I am/would be too young to handle. It would have been the day I gave birth to a child who's biological father is in prison and will be their for more than 26 more years because he is a rapist.

Question 10 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted by M.M. 

Q: Where do you see yourself in 10 years.

A: I am going to break this question up it three ways.

1) Where do I want to be in 10 years?

a: I think I want the same thing most people want, I want a good education, and well on my way to a good career. I want to be comfortable enough in my own skin to be in a romantic relationship. I want to see a possibility of children by the time I am 26 and have 1 by age 30 and maybe 1 more by age 34. I choose those ages because I want to still be in my lower 50s when I see my kids become their own adults.

I want a husband that is strong willed, intelligent, and nurturing to our children and me. He needs to realize that happiness and individuality is important, and that a big house and fancy car are just life's perks and not life's goals. He must be willing to understand what me and other survivors has gone through so that he can not only be supportive, but a cornerstone that an unbreakable foundation can be built upon.

2) Where do I think I will be in 10 years?

a: I think I will be sort of in the same position as I am currently in, too scared to face life, too scared to face strangers, and too scared to consider any type of intimacy. I think I am going to be jumping at every sound that I hear behind me and still running to a safe place just because I see a similar van or someone who looks similar to that guy. I think I will try and fail at a career and end up working at some type of position that an automaton could do so that I won't have to think. I can see myself so stressed out that I am forced to enter in a mental health facility so that the courts believe that I will be safe from myself. A part of me longs for an existence in a hospital where I am virtually catatonic and kept in a semi conscious zombie like state with some really strong drugs. I'm not sure that is a fix, well I am reasonably sure it isn't a fix, but I think it would be better than feeling a constant gnawing pain that makes me want to kill myself.

3) Where do I think I am now?

I think I am going through the motions in a foolish attempt to trick myself into thinking that healing is possible. I think I am in hell trying to swim to shore but each sluggish attempt to swim only pushes me further into the burning lava where is can burn my heart and eyes. I think I am pessimistic instead of optimistic and I am at a loss as to how to fix it.

Question 9 (Therapy Assignment)

Question submitted by an anonymous poster.

Q: In light of all this, have you given up completely on the idea of ever having a sexual relationship? And if not, why not?

A: I have never been interested in a sexual relationship, not because I think it is gross or something like that but because I am 16. Now after this happened the thought of any form of sexuality that I am involved in gives me the willies. Even something as simple as kissing would make me uncomfortable. I think kissing would sort of feel gross now because of the fact that it will remind me of what happened to me and at this point in time it is hard to ever assume that I could separate the nasty feeling of that van from any future relations. Does that mean that I am planning on never being in a relationship? Nope. Sometime in the future I want to have at least 1 child and I think I would like to have a husband.

Have I given up on the idea of a sexual relationship? Nope, but I never really had thoughts of a sexual relationship. I think as long as I continue therapy and keep myself surrounded by good supportive people I will eventually be able to handle a sexual relationship, and just maybe view it as something good instead of just a necessary thing for me to be involved in a relationship. The only way it would be off the table is if I can't heal from this.

Fork, 911

Last Thursday wasn't a good day. It wasn't just a day absent of good, but it was a bad day. I guess I should be use to it by now being that all of my days are bad days. I want all of my online support friends to know something, I have been lying to all of you. I'm not really sure why I have been lying. A part of me believes that if I lie to myself enough by telling myself that I am going to get through this I somehow magically will. A part of me is also scared that I will hurt others so I lie. I tell people that I am okay, but even worse than that I pretend that I am okay. I put out this totally fake persona that is literally meant to deceive everyone around me so that they don't know the truth. I will get to the truth later in this post perhaps.

I was sitting at the lunchroom table at school last Thursday next to a few people I get along with. I don't want to call them my friends because that too would be a lie. If I said I had any genuine friends at my new school I would be lying, I only have people I get along with. Everyone else around me was talking and eating their lunch, but I was just staring at the ingredients label on the back of my single serving milk. Like everyday at school I was simply wishing I wasn't there. I kept fumbling with a band-aid that was on my left wrist from where I accidentally burned my wrist on a skillet when I was cooking supper the night before. It wasn't a bad burn by any means, but it was a little tender and felt a little uncomfortable against my sleeve. One of the girls that was sitting at the table with me noticed that I was messing with the band-aid and she asked me, "What happened? Did you try and kill yourself?"

I didn't reply back, I pretended that I didn't hear her. I pulled my sleeve down over the palm of my hand to cover the band-aid hoping that she would just shut-up, but she didn't. She said to everyone else at the table, "Look, Jaime tried to kill herself."

No one at my new school knows what happened to me, so I guess i can assume that everyone's actions are out of ignorance. As soon as she lied and told everyone that I tried to kill myself, some laughed, one wanted to know why I would do that, and another one asked to see my wrist. I don't know why but for some reason I showed everyone my wrist. I guess I thought they would see it's just a band-aid and let it go. The band-aid goes across my wrist, not up and down. The same girl that began the whole ordeal then laughed and said, "Look, Jaime is too stupid to even do it the right way."

I understand that she was just trying to be funny and she had no idea of what I am dealing with, but it just hit me the wrong way. I picked up my half full milk carton and poured it on her notebook that she was studying out of. I then said (verbatim), "Bitch, I know how to kill myself if I want to kill myself. I know to cut my wrist lengthwise so that the bleeding will be harder to stop."

I then opened my purse and pulled out 4 bottles of prescription medication and said, "Even if I didn't have a knife which I have plenty of at home, I could down a few dozen of any combination of these and that might do the trick. If I wanted to be sure that my attempt to kill myself was successful I would jump off the overpass to the interstate and let an 18 wheeler run me over, that would do the trick."

I pulled my sleeve up and ripped the band-aid off my wrist and then asked, "Do you want to see me bleed? You must want to if you think suicide attempts are so funny."

I grabbed my fork off my lunch tray and jammed it against my wrist and dragged it up my arm leaving four bleeding scratch marks about eight inches long. "Is that enough blood for you?"

Again I dragged the fork up my arm making myself bleed even more. I did this five or six times before a teacher grabbed the fork out of my hand and escorted me to the front office.

As you can imagine this caused quite a stir, but it wasn't like I had a knife that could actually cut me. The only thing the fork could do was make scratches that bled a little, not even enough to warrant any medical attention. The school called my dad at work and told him that there was an emergency and that he needed to come to the school right away. The school dean and counselor was treating this as an attempted suicide and they actually called 911. So now there is a policeman standing in front of me, a fireman EMT, and a priest (being that I go to a catholic private school). Dad comes running in the front door just after he ran past a cop car, ambulance, and fire truck in the parking lot. I can only assume that dad assumed the worse walking in. Dad looked confused because he saw that I was okay. Long story short my dad filled them all in on the fact that I am having some emotional issues while I just sat there. He didn't go into detail, he just told them enough so that they knew I was in therapy. They suggested that I leave with dad and talk to my therapist before I return to school.

Thursday's are my normal therapy days so dad and I went home and then left home at 2:30 to take me to my therapy appointment. As you can imagine the things that happened at school became the subject of discussion in therapy. My therapist kept asking me question about how I felt before all of that, how did I feel when that girl made those comments, and how did I fell as I was scratching myself with the fork. The truth is when I was scratching myself with the fork it felt good, the pain felt good. I felt like I deserved the pain and I felt like I was getting what I wanted. I explained that to my therapist and then she asked me, "What are you thinking about as you look back at what happened at school?"

I didn't even think about the answer, I simply blurted out, "It would have worked better if I had a strait razor."

So now everyone at school thinks I am suicidal, my dad thinks I am suicidal, my therapist thinks I am suicidal and has asked my dad to keep a closer eye on me. More than that, I think I am suicidal. That's the truth, but that's not the scary part. The scary part is that the realization that I am suicidal doesn't scare me. Shouldn't it be freaking me out? In all honesty, I am somewhat calmed by the thought of my own death. I also realized something; the only reason why I haven't killed myself is because I don't want to hurt the people who foolishly care about me. I don't care about me, but I do care about others. I just wish I knew a way to convince people what I already know, THAT I AM NOT WORTH CARING ABOUT. If I could convince them of that truth, I could bring my pain to an end, I could cry my last tear, and I could leave those painful memories behind.

I guess I am just being stupid and the douche bag of a busy body whore from school was right. I just wish no one cared about me so I could do what I need to do to end this pain.

Update: March 7th, 2012 - 5:30 pm

Since people think I am going to kill myself or over reacting I just thought I would add this last part.

Just because I am suicidal doesn't mean I am so stupid that I will kill myself.

Question 8 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted By BradDavisDude.

Q: How has this whole tragedy affected your trust in men and do you think you will be able to trust men enough to date again?

A: In general terms it has affected my trust in men, especially at first. I think it is because my assailant happened to be male and because men are nearly always so much more physically stronger than me. It makes me feel vulnerable to be around men. I don't want people to misunderstand me, I don't think all men are dangerous or that all men are willing to rape. I have simply acknowledged that with the vast majority of men, if they made the choice to hurt me, I am physically less able to defend myself because I am not as strong as a man. That realization makes me cautious and I imagine that extra caution will be something that I have for the rest of my life.

A: I think I will be able to date again, but with me it really isn't dating again. I have never really been on a date in the first place. So I guess the question is do I think I will be able to date men in the future. The simple answer to that is yes, however the reality of it is a little different. I think a traditional meet and date scenario is less of a possibility. What I mean by that is that I would not do the whole blind date thing or go on a date with someone that I don't know. There is two exceptions to this rule. If a trusted friend knew this person, or we went on some double dates. Other than that I think I would have to become "REAL" friends with a guy before I was able to trust them enough to go on a date with them where I could potentially feel vulnerable and alone.

Eventually I do want to go on dates, I want to marry, and I want children, but more than that I want to trust myself and others so that those things are possible. Until I learn to trust again, dating is simply impractical. Of course I do have to admit that part of the process of learning to trust again may involve putting myself in situations such as a date where I feel vulnerable so that I can then face my fears. I just know I'm a long way off from there, and I have trouble foreseeing a time when I will be there.

Immediately After My Assault - The Hospital

I am going to describe the 16 or so hours immediately after my rapist released me so that others who make the choice to report their rape can know what to expect. Please keep in mind that I am not going to give a step by step procedure simply because I don't remember the details.

When I was released I wasn't simply shown the door that led to my freedom. Instead he drove me to the street in front of my house and opened the side door to the van then pushed me out onto the ground. I wasn't given the chance to put my clothes on and was shoved out onto the ground naked. In all honesty I didn't know where I was at as he drove away and when I fell on solid ground I was surprised. He told me several times that he was going to throw me into the Ohio River and let me drown, and I believed him. After I fell to the ground I stood on my hands and knees for a few seconds and waited for him to finish me off. Instead, I heard his van drive away and I turned to look just in time to see him drive around the corner several houses down the road. Suddenly I realized he was gone, I was free, and still alive. I began to look around and it dawned on me that I was home, that was my house no more than 100 feet away. I picked myself up off the ground and ran into the house where dad and my little sister Aimee was sitting on the couch. I screamed for my dad as I burst in through the door. I have never seen my dad get to his feet as fast as he did, and the way he took charge was somewhat comforting. Dad grabbed a blanket that we keep on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me and then he told Aimee to go into my room and get some clothes for me to wear. The first thing dad said to me was, "Everything is going to be okay now". It was also the thing I needed to hear the most at that moment. Dad and Aimee had to help me get my sweat pants and t-shirt on because I used the last bit of strength I had left to run into the house.

Dad didn't ask a lot of questions as he drove us to the hospital. I didn't think much about it at the time as to why he wasn't asking questions, but I was glad that he wasn't. I don't think I could have answered any questions in the immediate few minutes. I think dad only asked one question and it was, "Are you okay?" When I started writing this I couldn't remember what my reply was or even if I made a reply, but I asked dad about it and him and I talked for several hours. Dad said that I didn't give a verbal answer, nor did I nod my head. Dad said that I signed the word "no". I only know a few words in ASL (American Sign Language), "no" is one of them. Dad on the other hand knows ASL because some of his family is deaf. I sort of remember dad calling the police, but the memory is kind of clouded. Dad told me that he called 911 and told them that he was on the way to the emergency room because of an assault and severe injury. They wanted to know the nature of the assault but dad didn't really know how to answer but he told them that the police needed to be there.

There was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting by the emergency entrance when we pulled up. I was wheeled into an examination area where the only thing separating me from other patients was a network of curtains. The nurse began to ask me what happened to me, but I was unable to get any words to come out of my mouth. I don't remember dad saying this, but he told me today that he told the nurse that I may have been sexually assaulted. I do remember the nurse asking me if I was sexually assaulted, and I sort of remember nodding my head yes. Dad told me that the nurse told him that we would be moving to a private examination room. I don't remember her saying that, but I do remember being wheeled into a room that had four walls and a door, it was a private room, and it was the first time I remember feeling the slightest bit safe in more than 23 hours.

A different nurse who is specially trained to talk to sexual assault victims came in and asked me if I was sexually assaulted. She said I had to tell her "yes" or "no" so that they could know how to proceed. "YES" was the first word I spoke after he released me. The nurse asked me if I was filing a report or just needing medical attention. Dad told her that the police have already been called and that they were on there way. Out of all the things I remember one of the most vivid memories I have from the hospital is the sound of dad's voice as he was answering questions for the nurse. Most of the questions at this point were routine and consisted of my name, age, medical history, etc. Some of the other questions were, "Was you raped? Do you know who raped you? How long ago did it happen? Have you showered or bathed since the rape? I had trouble answering these questions. My mouth simply refused to work, but somehow I managed to answer. Dad's voice cracked while he was talking to the nurse. She asked dad to step out into the hallway with her for a minute. I looked at my dad and he knew I didn't want him to leave. He grabbed my hand and told me that he would be right back and then he walked out with the nurse. I have really good hearing and I could hear what the nurse was saying to my dad. At the time I was a little angered by the nurse for telling my dad that he needs to be strong, he needs to hold it together, and he needs to be brave for me. It felt almost as if she was scolding dad because he cared about me. I know now that the nurse did the right thing. She knew that I needed dad to be a solid foundation for me so that I could be strong. My dad told me when we was talking about all of this last night, when I was writing this that he struggled to keep himself together. I knew he was emotional that night but he seemed far stronger then than he described himself to be.

The nurse needed us to give consent to perform evidence collection. We both gave verbal consent and signed a consent form. After signing the paper she repeated to dad and I several times what we were giving consent to. She explained that they were going to collect DNA samples from fluids in my vagina, scrape my fingernails for skin, take pictures so they can document my injuries. She told me that this was going to be a long procedure and that it will make me feel very uncomfortable. She wasn't lying, it seemed like it took forever, and I felt so exposed, but it wasn't as bad as it was in the van. I knew I was safe, and dad being with me really, really, really helped. I couldn't have done it if he wasn't there.

After the consent forms were signed the nurse left to go get the evidence collection kit. A detective who works with sexual assault victims walked in and began to ask me question. He asked many of the same initial questions that the nurse asked. As soon as he realized that I knew my attacker he wanted as much information about him as possible. I gave the detective the name of my attacker and told him that he what street he lived on. It must have taken me 10 minutes to get just his name and where he lives out of my mouth. The detective didn't waste anytime getting that guys information out to other cops who then tried to find him. By the time my rape examination was finished, my attacker was in handcuffs. It would be the next day before I knew he was arrested.

Evidence Collection:

The first collections they gathered was semen samples. They collected several samples, I guess to make sure they had a viable sample. They then documented all of my injuries in written form and with a camera. Every time the camera clicked I wanted to scream. Every time my hospital gown was lifted or lowered, I cringed and wanted to disappear. It was a horrible experience but it was a necessary one. They took dozens of pictures of all my injuries while simultaneously evaluating my injuries. They didn't treat any of my injuries until after they collected all the evidence. That makes sense because I imagine they wanted to make sure they didn't taint the evidence. After the physical evidence was collected I had to give a much more detailed account of my attacker and what he did to me while the doctor and nurse were actually treating me for my injuries. After about 4 hours they had all the pictures, samples, and statements and they could actually start to clean me up and treat my bigger injuries. I had an x-ray done on my left arm, ribs, wrists, jaw, and head.

While waiting for the x-rays to come back I was given stitches for all of my cuts, and was hooked up to an IV. They wanted to make sure I was re-hydrated properly. I was also given something for anxiety and some pain medicine that pretty much knocked me out. I don't remember too much for the next several hours. Dad told me that I was sort of like a zombie. The last clear memory I have is the doctor injecting something into my IV line and him telling me that it will make me very sleepy. About 3 hours later I was becoming aware of what was going on around me and I was lying in bed in a private room. I had a cast on my arm and several bandages. Dad was still there with me and so was grandma. She drove 5 hrs to be with me. Aimee (my little sister) was at home with my aunt.

I stayed in the hospital for the next 10 hours I think before I was released. It was late Sunday evening when I finally got home. It had been more than two days since I felt the comfort of my home and I was glad to be home. Dad has so many questions, so did Aimee and grandma but they didn't press for answers. I was too scared to be in my room by myself and as much as possible I stayed in the living room with dad.

Over the next few days dad looked through the literature the hospital counselor had given us and he found a therapist for me to talk to. I spent more than 3 weeks waiting for the wounds to heal, and the bruises to go away. I began my blog before my bruises were gone, I guess I needed a way of venting without using verbal words. I guess this is all I have to share right now. This was harder to write than I thought it was going to be. It's going on 4am and I have to be up for school in 2 hours. I might skip school, I'm pretty sure all I would do is cry anyway.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference."

Question 5, 6, and 7 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: Since your assault, what has been the most meaningful/helpful thing that someone has said to you?

A: It is so hard to find specific things that people has said to me that has actually helped and I think it will be different for everyone. One of the more persistent feelings I have had since my assault is the feeling of stupidity. Me being so easily manipulated has done so much more to harm me in terms of self-esteem than anything else. This causes me to blame myself, more specifically it causes me to call myself stupid. I tell people I am stupid all the time, sometimes it is directly or jokingly. I call myself a retard online when I make mistakes, and in my real life when I mess up on something I call myself a ignorant bitch. I know I shouldn't do that and I try not too but it still happens. I have noticed that I go out of my way sometimes to prove to others that I am not stupid, I guess I am hoping that I will believe it if I am told enough times that I am not stupid. So I guess the most beneficial thing is for someone to not tell me that I am smart, but treat me as if I am not stupid. Telling me I am smart or not stupid I don't think matters because I seldom believe people more than I believe myself. I am my own worst critic and I trust my negative opinions of myself while simultaneously distrusting any positive opinions.

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: What is something you have longed to hear someone else say to you since your assault but that you haven't heard yet?

A: That is simple on the surface but not so much in reality. The only thing I want to hear that I haven't heard is, "It's okay, it was just a bad dream".

I know that's not going to happen and I know if someone did say that they are more nutty than me. I don't think there is anything "Realistic" that I have longed to hear, I have thought about this for over a week and there just isn't anything. There probably is something that I need to hear but I don't know what it is, but that might be because I am too retarded.

I think validation of what I am feeling and thinking might be the things I want to hear the most, but the problem is I want to hear the bad validation along with the good validation. When I say that I am stupid I secretly want people to agree with me so that I can futilely convince them otherwise. I think it comes down to me wanting the right circumstances so that I can feel as if I am not responsible for my ignorance, sort of like it is a handicap. I know it doesn't make any sense.

Question Submitted by M.M.'s husband.

If you could travel anywhere in the world, where you would you go and why? This is a question from my husband (he is in town visiting); he does not read your blog but knows about you through your correspondence on my blog. I hope you don't mind that I submitted a question from him.

A: Well this question has some unrealistic answers and some realistic answers. Unrealistically I would like to go to heaven to be comforted by mom. I know heaven is sort of outside the world but I said it was an unrealistic answer. More realistically I would like to go sightseeing and visit the 7 wonders of the ancient world and to actually see the original US Constitution, not the facsimile that people so often see. I think Japan (Tokyo) and Australia would be on my list as well.

Question 4 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 4 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question Submitted by misfitspartan.

Q: In what ways has your attack strengthened or bettered you and your life?

A: Damn, this is a loaded question. I'm sort of at a loss as to where to start. I guess I will start with did my assault better my life. The simple answer is "NO", but if I examine my assault with hopeful eyes in terms of years from now I would have to say that my assault will better my life. I am a true believer in the phrase, "Knowledge is power." Although I trust less now than I use to, I am also less naive. I know bad things happen and that I am not immune to it. I always thought that things like this would never happen to me, it always happens to someone else. Now I know the truth and that truth is that anyone can become a victim at any time. I have also learned of numerous resources that I not only can use to help me but I can help others. I guess that sort of comes back to knowledge. So yes, my assault has bettered me because among the chaos, pain, mental despair, and heartache there is a possibility of a bright future for me driven by knowledge that I can share.

Has my attack strengthened my life? I think I am compelled to look at this question much the same way. In immediate terms I do not feel strengthened, I feel weakened and broken, but when I think about the possibilities of a brighter future years down the road I have to admit that my assault will strengthen me. I think there is some truth in the phrase, "What doesn't kill me. only makes me stronger." I believe with time and effort I will have the strength to help others in a more personal way. It will be a type of strength that I normally wouldn't have access to if I had not been a victim who became a survivor so that one day I can become a thrivor.

This question reminds me of a question that came up either on a support forum or a chat room. That question is (verbatim), "If you could give up the knowledge and strength you have gained and the knowledge and strength you will gain, would you choose to change the past."

At this point in time there is very little that I wouldn't do to change the past and make it so that none of this had never happened. In the future I might be less willing to give up any knowledge or strength I have gained. It is even possible that my life could be changed so much for the better that in time I could even refuse to change the past even if it were possible. I think a lot of it will depend on how much of an impact my future will have on my betterment and knowledge, and how well I am able to share that knowledge and betterment upon someone else who needs it. As of right now I have trouble imagining that I can heal and much less make a difference in other people's lives.

Question 3 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 3 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Wabs

Q: How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened? Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?

Q: "How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened?"

A: My relationship with my family in some ways feels closer and further away at the same time. For example I know without a doubt that I can go to my family with anything now. I know that there's nothing that is so big hat I shouldn't go to them. Before I knew I could go to them but there was always a thought that some things are too big. We are closer in a lot of ways in terms of a supportive family structure but we also seem more separated in terms of emotional pain. They support me, but they don't really get what I am going through. They try to but it is impossible unless they have had a similar experience. I am glad they don't understand because it would kill me if they really understood.

Q: "Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?"

A: Sure it would be different. My reactions toward someone else would be supportive but I wouldn't really understand what they were going through. If it were a stranger that this happened to and none of it would have happened to me, I would have felt bad for them and supported them but my thoughts would have moved from them not long after reading or hearing about what happened. I think a part of me would be asking the same question I ask myself. I would want to know why that person got into that van. I would be thinking to myself that she made a bad decision. I wouldn't blame her because it wouldn't be her fault but i would acknowledge to myself that this person could have made wiser choices. I think that's one reason why I am so hard on myself, because I am judging myself like I probably would judge someone who would be in my situation. Please don't misunderstand me, I would never blame the victim even if I had not been a victim myself. However if I had not been a victim I would have blindly made the assumption that I would have been too smart to fall victim to that kind of manipulation. Again, this is one reason why I am so hard on myself.

Question 2 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 2 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How do you think others saw you before your assault, and how do you think they see you now?

A: (before) I think others saw me as the typical teen girl just a little weird.

A: (after) Now I think people view me in different ways, it depends on who they are.

My Dad:

I think he views me with as much or more love than he did before my assault. He also thinks of me as more fragile. I am pretty sure that he has lost trust in me to make the right choices in life, after all I made the wrong choice to get into that guys van. I went against dad's wishes and took a ride with someone I didn't really know. Worse than anything, I think he sees me as a non-virgin.

My Little Sister:

I don't think her opinions have changed all that much except for one thing. I think she stopped viewing me as invincible.

My Extended Family: (cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents)

I think most of my extended family view me much the same way dad does. I am sure they are as dumbfounded as I am as to why I would get into his van. I'm sure they are wondering if I have some sort of mental deficiency that disallowed me to see the danger before my eyes. I think all of them think they would have seen the danger if it were them instead of me. I know for a fact that some of them look at me as broken. During Thanksgiving I overheard a family member (my grampa - mom's dad) tell his brother, "I don't think she (me) will have a normal life now."

My Friends:

I honestly think most of them think I am stupid.

My Online Support Friends:

I think most pity me and feel sorry for me so much that they have the need to lie to me and tell me that I am brave. I think most of them care deeply for me. I think a few of them think I am making all of this up and they are just itching for me to contradict myself or give enough information that they can use to prove me to be a fraud. I think many of my online support gets tired of supporting me and thinks to themselves that it is pointless. I think many of them get frustrated and would walk away and concentrate on their own healing if they thought I would be safe from myself.

Question 1 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 1 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How did you see yourself before your assault, and how you see yourself now?

A: Before my assault I never really thought about how I see myself. I think I thought of myself like an average person who just wanted to go with the flow of life. I never really considered myself to be a pretty person or an ugly person. I do think I was a nice person and a fairly astute person.

After my assault much of my opinions of myself and others have changed. I am a far less trusting person of others and myself. I always think that there is some sort of motive behind people's actions even if they are nice or kind actions. I see myself as damaged and unworthy of happiness and wonder why anyone would want anything to do with me. Many times I am confused as to how someone can even bare the mental pain of even looking at me.

Some people think I am smart, wise for my years, attractive, insightful, brave, and inspirational, but I often think these people are nuts because I don't even come close to seeing myself in those ways. I see all the mistakes I made that night and how I was manipulated and I feel stupid and foolish. I hear people call me brave and I laugh on the inside because I know how messed up I am on the inside and I can't believe that people can't see the real me, the broken, tainted, and disgusting me that could never be an inspiration to anyone.

Sometimes, more often than not, I wake up literally hating myself. Sometimes the thought of my own perceived failures make me sick to my stomach. Many times I want to punish myself for my failures and for perceiving my life as a failure. I have punished myself before. Some people cut, but I punch or scratch myself. The scratches are always on a place that I can cover with clothes. Most of the time the bruises are hidden under clothes as well. Sometimes I have to use make up because I have hit myself in the face hard enough to swell and bruise.

Basically I see myself as highly messed up and to the point of no return. I still try to feel better but it isn't easy. I have lost most of my ambitions to become someone in life. The really funny part is I still have the same goals but the reasons behind the goals have changed. I now what to prove myself wrong and that I am not a failure, but I am secretly wanting to prove that I am a failure because I don't even realize that I am not a failure. I'm pretty sure there is some sort of psychological term for a self reinforcing delusion. Knowing that there is a term like that makes me see myself as a bigger failure because I fit the bill by merely writing this last paragraph.

I seem insane because one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I try to heal and it doesn't work. I do this over and over and hope that one day there will be different results. That seems insane to me.

An Angry Rant Of Revenge

I have been feeling really angry lately. I don't mean a little upset I mean ANGRY. I feel as if I am looking for things to be angry about. Although I do feel justified in my anger I hate that I have anger in me. An angry person isn't the type of person I want to be. Let me explain just how angry I am. If you are a very sensitive person or someone who is unable to just view my rant as an expression of anger instead of a threat of violence then you probably shouldn't read any further.

Begin Angry Rant -Trigger Warning-

I look back at all the things my assailant did to me and I am furious. I am disappointed in myself for being so easily tricked, but I am beyond angry with him. There are many times that I want retribution for what he did to me. Scratch that, I want revenge, retribution is what I am getting by him being in prison. It isn't enough. I want to hurt him the way he hurt me. I want him to feel the same pain he made me feel. I want to tie him up in helpless ways and shove things into him until his flesh is torn. I want him to cry out for help that never will come. I want to see tears fall down his face and hear his teeth grind in pain so hard that he breaks his own teeth. I want to use a belt and beat him with the buckle end of it until he is bleeding and scarred. I want to have the strength to twist his arm up behind his shoulder blade and keep twisting on it as he cries and until it cracks as the upper part of his arm snaps. I want to use a pocket knife to cut him down their. After he has given up fighting I want to beat him, piss on him, shit on him, and then kick him out onto the middle of the street naked and broken. Scratch that, this is my fantasy, I want him to die in this fantasy. I want to march him to the landfill and put bullets through his head and let his body be eaten by the crows. I like to feed birds.

End Angry Rant -Trigger Warning-

I don't want to be this angry. I don't want to have such awful thoughts about hurting someone even if they deserve it. I feel like I am losing my mind and I feel like I am turning into a person I don't want to be. I don't want to be evil or have evil thoughts. These thoughts of hurting him scare me. They scare me because they comfort me. That's messed up. I am insane, I really believe it.

Dark Healing Road

Well some of you may have noticed that I have taken more than a week off from writing on my blog. I did that so that I could have some time to reflect on me and the person I am on the inside. That may sound a little weird but with all of the court stuff that was going on over the last several months I have had very little time to just examine myself and my emotions. I was understandably captivated with court and so forth. Now that court is over I have very little legal distractions from my emotions and it is a surreal feeling to now be placing most of my healing energy toward healing. Before December 20th it was all about making sure that my assailant went to prison but now it's just me and my emotions and memories.

The regular readers of my blog know that I have been having thoughts of suicide because of all of these emotions that seemed to have crashed in on me after he was sentenced. Well, I want people to know that although the suicidal thoughts are not 100% gone I have come to understand that I really do not want to die. I just want to feel better.

Over the last week and a half I have been sorting out my understanding of my own emotions. That understanding isn't easy to describe in writing but I am working on it. I was recently given the green light by the investigator in charge and the prosecutor that I can talk about anything that happened to me on my blog. I'm still not sure if I am ready to talk about the worse thing he did to me. It feels like if I admit or reveal what the worse thing he did to me was it will be me admitting and revealing that I am now a freak. At a later time perhaps, I just can't talk about it right now. I tried to talk about it in therapy last Thursday and again this Monday but I just couldn't get the words to come out of my mouth. I will try again tomorrow when I go to therapy since I am going twice a week now.

Anyway, I really don't have a whole lot to talk about in this post but I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still keeping, on keeping on. I am still trying to heal and I will it's just going to take time. The problem is I artificially convinced myself that I would be all better once he was sentenced, but I know that's not the case in reality. Honestly that's something I always knew but I tried to ignore it. I am ready to traverse these dark roads as long as I can see some light ahead of me. I see a faint light in the distance, but with my short legs it's going to take a while to get there.

Our Lady Of Peace, Here I Come - Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility

Okay, so I am getting ready to drop a bombshell on my dad in the morning.

I have no idea how this is going to play out or how the best way to bring this up will be, but I think I am to the point that it is needed. I have been looking up in patient care geared toward suicide prevention. In the area I live we just happen to have one called Our Lady Of Peace. They have a special Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility that is geared toward 12 -17 year olds that are suffering from extreme depression and thoughts of self harm and suicide. Many of these treatments specialize in dealing with the aftereffects of sexual assault and P.T.S.D. related issues.

I need to tell dad that I need something more than regular therapy. I know the state I am in and if I don't find some sort of aggressive treatment I am going to do something stupid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head. I have to tell dad I need help and I have to make him hear me, he has to really hear me. How do I do that?

I have two voices in my head and I have a very quiet referee name rationality. This referee has questionable judgment and the voices are beginning to ignore the referee. One voice is telling me that I am never going to be okay and death is so much easier; death will end the pain. The other voice is telling me that I can survive all of this and it can get better. Neither voice is telling me what I need to hear, neither voice is telling me that I deserve happiness or that I deserve to live. The referee thinks I deserve happiness and life, but the referee can't talk through the duct tape that has been wrapped around her mouth over and over and her hands are tied behind her back just like they were in the van.

I can make it till morning when dad gets up, I know I can; but after that I have to get real help. I just have to figure out how to make dad understand. If I can't convince him easily I won't have the will to be convincing. I am losing my mind, I am going crazy and I am so fucking scared. I have all these images in my mind that won't go away. I have all these flashbacks that won't go away. I just want them to stop, I am so tired. I can't think anymore. I can make it till dad gets up in the morning, I know I can.

You must be asking why does Jaime think she's going crazy. Well Jaime did something today that she is ashamed of. She masturbated until she bled and it was the pain that pushed her over the edge so that she could feel that 30 second long rush of endorphins that made her cry. She cried while sitting in the bathtub as the shower washed the blood away. She wished the hot water that was full on with the cold water completely off could have melted her into nothingness and washed her down the drain. She had images of her being in pain going through her mind when she felt that intense rush of endorphins. She feels so ashamed. Even as she writes this she can feel herself detach from reality and she fears she will lose herself in the madness of her own mind. She didn't even really notice that she was narrating her own words in third person until this sentence. This is why I think I am going insane. I'm not even kidding about any of this. I thought I was messed up before when while being assaulted for hour after hour I was made to have an orgasm when he purposefully stimulated me. That's bad enough but it was a physical reaction, I know that. Why did I not think about a tender sexual experience when I masturbated in the shower instead of being in that van? It's weird and surreal to say but the thought of the pain he put me through and the pain from my own finger making me bleed made this so much stronger. That's insane, that's weird, and that's wrong on so many levels.

I got it, I will email this to dad's business email account. He always checks that first thing in the morning. I will be okay until he gets up and he can take me to Our Lady Of Peace. Hell, I even checked our health Insurance plan and up to 90 days a year of emergency in patient care is covered. There was a dollar limit on that but I imagine I will need near 90 days worth of care. I mean I don't think I am sociopath crazy, not yet anyway. He will be awake in less than 5 hours. I can make it to then because I think I could make it a few days if I had to. I will email him this and then post it on my blog and then on A.S.

Random Rant Of The Day 2

I am reasonably certain that I am going to grow up a bitter and sad person. I stopped liking this time of year at 12 or 13, and I began to dislike it last year after my mom died. This year I actually hate Christmas. I hate it for the fact that mom is no longer here. I hate it for the fact that the spirit of Christmas has been so easily stolen even though it shouldn't be so easy. I hate, I hate, I hate, but most of all I hate myself. Maybe "Hate" myself is too strong of a word. I dislike me. Time for me to go join the rest of the family and put on a mask.

A Hollow Victory

Less than two days ago the guy who raped me was sent to prison for a minimum of 27 years. That's at least 27 years where I know I will not need to worry about him. Anyway you cut it, 27 years is a long time and a justified punishment for the things he did. I have even found out several weeks ago that there were other girls that had since come forward with accusations of sexual assault by the same guy who raped me. I can't get into the entire nature of their accusations because I honestly don't have all of the details. However I do know that at least one additional charge has been filed. I think at this point it is safe to assume that the 27 year sentence that he is currently serving could potentially have some more time tacked onto it as the result of other charges.

This morning he was moved from the jail he was housed in during all of this court stuff to a more permanent housing facility. This brings me to a quandary of sorts in how I think I should feel verses the way I think I feel. I say think because as I write this post I am still trying to understand the way I feel. A big part of me was really hoping that him being sentenced and me talking in front of the entire courtroom about the things he did to me would somehow create closure for me, but it didn't. I don't understand why. If my story would have been someone else's story I would have been telling them how brave they are and how proud I am for what they did. I would have told them that they are a hero, but when I look at myself through my eyes I don't see anything heroic. I would tell anyone else that had a similar outcome that they were victorious over their adversary, but my victory feels hollow. I don't understand why it would feel that way.

I had this idea or maybe it was an assumption that after he was sentenced that his punishment would become real and I would feel vindicated. When he was first sentenced I was mentally trying to decipher the sentence because people in courtrooms seldom seem to talk in plain English. All these numbers were thrown into the air and I was just trying to grasp them on an intellectual level so that I could understand what they meant. Once I understood the numbers I was relieved and I sort of felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest and I could finally breath. I felt safer than I had felt since before any of this happened. Unfortunately most of these euphoric feelings had passed within 12 hours of him being sentenced, and I found myself feeling like I needed to put on a show and a happy smile for everyone around me.

I was so tired after I got home from court because of the lack of sleep that I have had over the last few days. Really the lack of sleep has been since this happened. I come home from court with my eyes so tired that they felt like they had gravel in them. I thought for sure that I was going to be able to lie down and fall to sleep with a peaceful demeanor about me, but instead I lay down in bed and cried. Why did I cry? Why am I still crying? I should be happy that he is tucked away safe from society where he can't hurt anymore innocent people. Don't misunderstand me; I am glad he is in prison. I was hoping I would feel a sense of freedom because his sentence is being served, but I don't feel free; I feel like I am in prison. I feel trapped within myself and I don't know how to find the exit. I am trying so had to find this exit but I can't and it's driving me crazy. I feel like I am crazy.

I am scared that I will not be able to know who I can trust in the future. If I can't gain some sort of confidence in myself to make a wise choice to trust or not to trust, how can I ever become something more than this emotional wreck who keeps herself shielded in the presumed comfort and safety of these four walls? For example - I live in a relatively safe neighborhood, and often I have to walk a mile to and from work because of my schedule and the fact that I don't yet have a car. This morning was one of those mornings and as I was walking to work I heard someone coming up on foot behind me. I turned my head a little to see how far back they were and I saw that is was a guy running toward me. I walked faster being that my friend's mom and dad's house was a few doors up. As I heard the footsteps getting close I realized that he would reach me before I got to their house so I ran. I sprinted as fast as I could and banged on their door while I was yelling for someone to let me in. As they opened the door the guy who was running ran by the house and I saw that he had a jogging suit on and he was simply out getting a morning run in for exercise. It was a little difficult and embarrassing to try and explain to my friend's dad why I was shaking and had tears running down my face. I don't feel free and I really don't feel safe. I know I am safe from the guy that raped me, but I see danger everywhere. I honestly wonder if today, tonight, this evening, or this afternoon will be the day I am abducted and raped again. I also feel like I know that it will happen again, but this time it will be worse. This makes me feel hollowed out and makes this so called judicial victory seem hollow. I hate this feeling. I know I am going crazy, sane and rational people don't think this way.

Random Rant Of The Day

So it is official, I will be starting private school January 9th. I'm not going to mention the name of this school but I will say that it is a Christian based private school. I'm not going to talk bad about this place being that I haven't attended class there yet, but this place from the outside looking in looks like one big Hollywood cliché. At the high school I was attending we did have uniforms but they weren't mandatory. Mostly we just had a dress code. However at this private school their dress code is UNIFORMS. All I can say is good thing I don't mind wearing skirts. I have a gut feeling that this private school will have a morning prayer and a preacher for a principal. Of course I am being sarcastic. I keep imagining church for 7 hours a day with a little bit of "book learning" thrown in. I know that an exaggeration, this school's students have actually scored in the top 1% for the last 7 years so I can reasonably assume that it's a good school. Here's the thing; I'm use to being the nerd in class, and now I will be just a nerd among nerds. Now if I want to stand out I will have to wear red lipstick or red fingernail polish. I'm sure that would get me sent home.

Has anyone ever hyperventilated long enough where you thought you were having a stroke or heart attack? Well I have, and it was this morning while I was rereading my statement to the court. My hands cramped up and my lips puckered. Being that I was the only one at home I almost called 911 since I didn't understand what was going on. Instead I did nothing, with the assumption that if it is my time to kill over, so be it. I am a curious person and while I was waiting to kill over I began to research my symptoms online. I'm not the type of person who would want to die without knowing what I'm dying of. Long story short, by the time I realized I was suffering from low carbon dioxide I had already stopped hyperventilating. Sad part is that a small part of me was disappointed that I was going to make it. LOL

Court is in about 18 hours and I feel like my chest is going to burst open and an alien is going to escape. I hate this waiting that never seems to end. I have been having trouble sleeping and I guess that is reasonably expected. We all have weird dreams and many of us have had dreams where we are in public naked. I have spent the last two nights in court naked. What a way for the powers that be in the universe to give me confidence enough to speak in court. At least in my dream I wasn't the only one who was naked, the judge was naked too. Last time I checked  Regis Philbin wasn't a judge. Why the hell am I dreaming that I am naked in the courtroom and the judge is Regis Philbin who is also naked? WTF is up with that? The weird part is that the guy who hurt me wasn't even in the courtroom in this dream.

I have never been a cutter, burner, scratcher, or any other form of a self-harmer other than having thoughts of suicide. However this morning I had a sharp object in one hand, a mind full of hate and self-blame in the middle, and a arm full of unscarred landscape on the other side and I was about to punish myself for everything that is wrong with the world. I didn't punish myself because somewhere along the lines I realized that I have been through enough pain and purposefully causing myself pain would be a prelude to that monsters victory speech. It is so hard to want to punish ourselves or do self harm to just feel like we are still connected, but why? It's so counter productive and can set us up for a lifetime of unjust suffering. I'm not going to start, (I think) at least not today.

Okay, I'm finished running my pie hole for now.

The Cusp Of Adulthood With A Broken Map

My earliest memory of thinking about what I wanted to be when I grow-up was around age 5 or 6. Mom was working at an animal shelter/hospital and I remember seeing her help animals with their boo boos just like she had helped me when I got my own boo boos. I remember thinking that's what I want to do when I grow-up. Throughout the years I had visions of being a Ríkislögreglan, (Iceland's version of a US Marshall or National Police) doctor, teacher, and more recently a writer, therapist, psychiatrist, and forensic psychologist.

Looking back at these various career aspirations I have noticed a fairly consistent theme; they are valuable to the community, take a lot of dedication, and each of them require that I have my heads on straight  A police-person has to be able to control their emotions so that they can make decisions based on legality as oppose to emotion. A teacher must be able to teach by example and in a clear way so that a child could understand, and be able to leave their personal problems at home. Writing is sort of an exception to this in that emotions will actually help, but unless I was to become well-known author like Stephen King or Dean Koontz it would be a real challenge to make a living. A therapist would benefit from being able to empathize with their clients but yet again a therapist must be able to turn off the emotions in order to let logic and reasoning guide the therapy sessions. A psychiatrist is pretty much a medical doctor and a therapist rolled into one and it requires an even more intense training and emotional control on the part of the psychiatrist. A forensic psychologist requires the same discipline and investigatorial skills as a police-person along with the ability to delve into the thought processes of the criminal mind. The spelunking into the pathology of the often violent and sadistic criminal mind most certainly requires a disconnect of work and personal life.

If I were to put these careers in order of preference, 1 being most preferred and 7 being least preferred; the order would be.

Before my assault:

1 - Doctor
2 - Teacher
3 - Writer
4 - Psychiatrist
5 - Police
6 - Forensic Psychologist
7 - Therapist (physical health)

After my assault (now):

1 - Therapist (emotional health)
2 - Forensic Psychologist
3 - Psychiatrist
4 - Teacher
5 - Writer
6 - Doctor
7 - Police

The weird thing is although my assault hasn't changed my career aspirations, it has re-prioritized them. Here's the problem. How do I get from the emotional wreck that I am now, to someone who is in control over her emotions so that I can reasonably pursue one of these careers? I still have roughly 32 months before I will start college. College life alone will open me up to a huge amount of pier pressure stresses and emotional triggers involving relationships on top of academic pressures and stresses. I also have to heal enough to know that I will be able to handle these jobs before I even go to college or I run the risk of filling my head with 4 or more years of useless information that I will never be able to use in a career. It's like I am standing on the cusp of adulthood with a broken map and not knowing which way to go or how to get their; and even if I do find my way there I don't know how I would be able to handle it all.

It was so clear before and the map in my head was simple. I saw a clear path with very trivial roadblocks, but now this path is covered in broken shards of glass that's itching to carve me into pieces as I attempt to traverse it. How do I get to a point in my healing in a 32 month period of time where I can then make a rational career choice about not what I WANT to do, but what I can do? "CAN" and "WANT" are often vastly different things and I'm so confused about how to bring them together into a coherent entity. I hate this feeling of unsurety that makes me feel like I am walking around blindfolded on stilts in the middle of a minefield. I know it’s just a matter of time before I fall face first on a Claymore.

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.

A Letter To My Rapist

Dear Sexual Assailant,

Why did you enjoy hurting me?

I can't even begin to understand the appeal of seeing someone suffer. You not only enjoyed seeing me suffer but you also clearly enjoyed being the cause to this suffering. There were many times where you weren't hurting me in a sexual way and only a physical way, but you still became sexually aroused presumably by my out-loud cries and tears. Many times as I suffered the pain of your physical abuses I saw you become erect. Then because of the twisted person you are, you then satisfied your sexual urge by using me. What kind of person are you that you can see someone suffer and be the manufacturer of that suffering and be aroused by it?

Was it all premeditated?

Your actions, demeanor, and attitude suggest that your cruelty was premeditated. You had a van that for lack of a better description had a torture chamber built into the back of it. You had a duffle bag full of things like rope, handcuffs, duct-tape, gags, and tools. I can only presume that this was your personal version of a rape kit. How long did it take you to modify your van into a torture chamber? Was this something that you worked on for hours, days, or weeks? Did someone help you or were you able to come up with all these plans on your own. You had a cooler filled with enough ice, food, and drinks that you could have kept me with you for 3 or more days. Did you plan on torturing me longer than 23 hours or were you making sure you were prepared?

Was I specifically part of the premeditation?

I have tried so hard to wrap my head around what you did to me, but as hard as I try I can't seem to. We knew of each other but we didn't really know each other. You were an 18 year old student at my high school and we have seen each other in school but we weren't friends, we weren't even really friends of friends. Did you see me at school and then start fantasizing about hurting me? Was this something that developed over time or did you instantly know that I was the one you wanted to hurt?

The night we ran into each other at the mall did you already know I was there or were you just looking for anyone you thought you could manipulate into getting into your van?

Were you going to kill me?

Many times while you were hurting me you made threats to kill me. You threatened to strangle me with your own hands and a few times you did choke me into near unconsciousness. You held a knife against my throat and laughed as you saw me cry. You threatened to handcuff me to a heavy weight and throw me off the bridge into the Ohio River. You even threatened to fill a water bottle up with Drano and force me to drink it or squeeze it into me like a douche. All of these threats I took serious because once you raped me 2 or 3 times I realized you were capable of anything.

Why did you let me go?

After all the times you raped, sodomized, molested, beat, threatened, and tortured me, you let me go. Why would you do that? Did you not realize that I would tell the police what happened? Surly you realized that I had to go to the hospital as a result of your assault and that would lead to questions of what happened to me. Further you had to assume that the questions would lead to the truth and the truth to evidence collection and evidence would lead to your arrest. Did you want to be arrested? Did you want this before you assaulted me, during the assault, or just at the end?

Why did you later confess?

When they arrested you it took only a few hours before you confessed to what you did, but as much as they tried to figure out the "WHYS" of the case you were silent.

Are there other victims of yours out there?

Was I the one and only victim? How many others have you hurt and are they still alive? Did your intimidation keep them fearful and in a state of silence? Did you assume that I would be so scared of you that I would remain silent?

Do you regret what you did to me?

I can't imagine that someone could ever hurt another person the way you hurt me. I can't fathom it. I have tried to understand the "WHYS", but I obviously have too much sanity to understand the enjoyment of seeing people suffer.

At some point when you was hurting me did you regret what you did to me, and is that why you let me go and then later after being arrested confess to hurting me?

What I think of you.

I think you are very simple minded although you have an intelligents about you that gives you the ability to seem trustworthy but that's about it. I think each and every person in this world has animalistic desires but the vast majority of us understand right from wrong and we care about how our actions affect others. You on the other hand are a sociopath.

I think you premeditated most of what you did to me, but I think I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It just happened to be the same time you were on the prowl. I think if it wasn't me it would have been someone else. For that reason I am glad that you chose me instead of one of my friends or GOD forbid, a child. I think you let me go because you were so sure that you had broken me and that I wouldn't turn you in. Once the police had enough evidence to arrest you I think you realized there was too much evidence and that's why you confessed. Sad thing is I imagine you confessed not out of regret or remorse, but as an attempt to manipulate the court system into thinking you're remorseful. I can't imagine that you could expect leniency after what you did to me, but then again I am not as fucked up as you are.

I am beyond the point where I am safe to assume that you will be in prison for many years. I could sit here with a very vindictive yet satisfying look on my face with the thought of you becoming the prison play toy. Who gets passed around and used on a nightly basis by those much more physically powerful than you, but I don't want you to be used that way. I know what it feels like and I wouldn't wish that upon even my worst enemy, and yes, you're my worst enemy. Ideally you will become reformed, but since I don't think a monster could ever be anything but a monster, I simply hope that you will die of old age while still behind bars.

If I could ignore my humanity and all the things that make me the person I am, I would want you to be tortured to death. I am glad I have a conscious, because I don't want to be as weak minded as you. I don't want to be so empty that I fill myself with anger and the suffering of others.

As much as I despise you with every fiber of my being, I still feel sorry for you. Not because you will undoubtedly feel the isolation of prison that separates you from society or that you will be surrounded by other monsters that may view you as prey. I feel sorry for you because you are incapable of understanding love. You are incapable of sharing love. If you can't understand or share love, you will never KNOW love. What an empty life that will be for you. While you face the day to day solitude of your loveless life, I will be surrounded with people who love me and people whom I love. That's what you were powerless to take from me, and still are powerless to take away from me.