“They Kept Telling Me I was Wasting Their Time…” (How a child rape victim can expect to be treated in Ohio).

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Testimony by Katlyn Milligan

When I was thirteen years old, just going into puberty I was raped. Though at that exact moment in time I didn’t know the meaning of rape so for years I did not call what happened to me rape. Maybe there was a part of me that knew something wasn’t right and just didn’t want to believe that I was raped but I was. My first sexual experience ever. A nightmare I will never forget. I was in a basement of a house in Ohio with a close friend named Storm. Or so I thought he was a close friend. Everything was completely fine. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual. We were sitting on the couch watching T.V and drinking beer. I was close to him and he was just rubbing my legs. That did not startle me at all. Well his friend that was also in the basement with us went upstairs for something so he picked me up and set me on the sink in the bathroom and locked the door. He told me he wanted alone time with me and well I really liked this kid so I said okay. He poured me a drink it was all mixed and handed to me. I slowly started sipping it. He started to rub my shoulders and relax me. I was still on the sink almost done with the drink now and he starts to unbuttoned my pants. I told him I didnt want that. Not now or later. He kissed me and said that’s fine. I asked if I could leave and he locked the door again. He said he wanted to talk. I didn’t want to talk anymore because something wasn’t quite right not to mention I felt very uncomfortable. He told me he would never hurt me and that he just wants to feel. I said I don’t think that’s such a good idea and I really want to go home. As soon as told me no that is when I became very scared and tried to leave. He pulled me back in the bathroom and sat me on the sink. He asked me if I was a virgin and I replied yes. At that point I knew if I fought it would just end up worse. I tried to leave again. I couldn’t. He slid my pants down. I told him no as I pulled them back up. He ripped them off of me and grabbed my vagina. I moved his hand and said no I don’t want to do this. At that point he didn’t care. He just kept handing me these drinks that tasted good. He bent me over smacked my ass and laughed the most evil laugh I have ever heard. Next think I know he was attempting to shove his hard penis into my ass. I jumped begging for him to not do that. He restrained me so I could no longer move. He stuck his penis in my ass multiple times. Very hard and fast. Lots of sharp pain and blood. I tried screaming, yelling, pushing him away nothing worked. After about a half hour of that he said “I want your pussy”. I begged him no and told him how much pain I was in. He didn’t care. He shoved it right in. I was crying the entire time pleading for him to stop. When he finally after about two hours stopped and threw me on the floor. Storm told me to clean the blood up and leave. He threw a towel and shorts at me and told me to “get the fuck out”. I left the blood and ran as fas as I could. I couldn’t even walk when I finally got out of the house. I kept falling over with blood dripping down my inner thighs and the back of my legs. I finally made it home a couple of streets away. I went right to the shower and took the longest shower of my life balling my eyes out in confusion and pain. After that I wasnt normal. I didn’t speak to anyone. I acted different. Acted out in school.  One day I finally broke down and told a counselor at my school. She then called the police to talk to me. The officers came to my middle school in no time. The first set of officers were nice. They asked if I needed to go to the hospital or see a doctor. They took me to the hospital where I stayed for a couple of days. Two built stocky detectives showed up wanting to question me. I was scared, embarrassed, I felt gross. They wanted every little last detail and I couldn’t even speak. They kept telling me I was wasting their time because they have other things to do and I probably wasn’t sexually assaulted or raped. That I was just a girl that got curious and things when bad. That was the moment I screamed. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I told the detectives that nothing ever happened and this can all go away now. They charged me with falsified information and I was given probation for falsifying information to law enforcement. I will never ever forget the feeling of not only feeling worthless but hopeless and used because I was punished due to being scared and not understanding. Now I am twenty one years old. This is the first time I have ever written or even spoke about what happened to me. I was given no support, guidance or even an explanation to why I was raped or even the slightest bit of nurturing or love. At the end of all of this that is all I wanted. I wanted someone to care and help me but everyone around me including my parents all took the detectives side. I struggle with myself every day with remembering what happened. I have nightmares and flashbacks at random times. Though I am older now I feel like it was just yesterday that it all happened. My memories are so real and alive. I even remember the smell of him and the look in his eyes. I will never forget it.

“I dont know how to heal.”

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Testimony by Vina L.
My story is not a short one. Like all the other stories, it is also not an easy one to tell. My story begins when I was 16, though the horrors started long before then. I was in love for the first time, with my first boyfriend. He was from Scotland. He played bass and his dad was in a band. He was totally cool, and cute, and I felt so lucky. He came to visit during my spring break and I showed him everything about the US that I could, while he told me everything about Scotland. I was still incredibly shy about boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. We hadn’t even started holding hands yet when he grabbed me and kissed me. I guess that was my first warning, but I was too overwhelmed to be see the signs. Later, he told me that his dad said I was very “well-endowed” while giving him a thumbs-up. That was my second sign, but after a lifetime of being bullied I was happy to take it as a compliment. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could go back in time and slap myself and make myself understand how dangerous my first boyfriend turned out to be. He wanted to kiss me everywhere. I always felt awkward about PDAs but he forced me. He would constantly pick lint off my shirt because he needed “his girl” to look perfect. The first time he abused me was in a dark theatre. I don’t even remember what movie we went to see. I was crying the whole time. All I could remember was how much it hurt because he had long fingernails, and how much I bled and hurt the next few days.  I wish I could say it stopped there, and that my story is over. But it’s not. The next day, while my mother was out, he pinned me against my bedroom wall and kissed me, saying it was time to have sex. That that’s what people in love did. I panicked. I kept saying no. He didn’t listen. he kept “assuring” me that it was what we needed to do. I said no so many times that the word started losing meaning. Eventually I gave up and let him touch me. The only thing that stopped the assault was him prematurely ejaculating before he could get inside me. The rest of his visit, I stayed in sight of my mother, though my mother was convinced I wanted sex despite our previous sex talks where I firmly stated that I didn’t not want to have sex before I was an adult. That belief, I am proud of myself for, because I never faltered from it. But I knew I couldn’t tell my mother what happened, because she would never believe me. She spoke fondly of him for the next couple years. To this day, 8 years later, she has a picture of him on our wall, though I don’t think she realizes that it causes me pain. I have to stare at it every day now that I am living at home again. I am too scared to ask her to take it down, too scared of opening old wounds. When he left, I saw him off with a heart of stone. Many would assume that the nightmare ended at that point. But it was just getting started. After the assault, I started having nightmares so horrible that I would wake up covered in sweat. I showered a lot in those weeks. And then I remembered everything. I was molested by my uncle as a child. I don’t have an exact age – possibly 4 or 5. He used to babysit me sometimes. He would have me lay on his bed and play SEGA while he would touch me and penetrate me. I remember complaining to him that he made it hurt to pee so much, but he would say that him touching me would make me better at the games. He told me he did it because he loved me so very much. A few years later, my cousin, who was about 4 or 5, started touching me, too. He wanted to feel my chest, though there was barely anything there. He told me that his dad said all boys should touch as many girls as they could. He only touched me once, and I told him it wasn’t okay. I repressed those memories for many years. It took being assaulted to remember. By time I realized what had been done to me, the statue of limitations was long past. And so I kept this knowledge a secret, knowing there was no point in telling anyone. There is one last, bitter chapter in my story of abuse, though this did not happen to me directly. Recently, my cousin (who is 15 now) had been accused of molesting three of his younger siblings. He was charged for one of them and given simple probation. The legal proceedings haven’t started for the other two yet, but I hope he goes to jail. I feel like I need so desperately for those kids to have the justice I never had. The nightmares haven’t stopped since I heard the news about this. I feel partially responsible for not speaking up as a kid. Maybe all of this could have been prevented. But it is pointless to think those things, to blame myself. Maybe there’s nothing I could have done to change it. Maybe my uncle would have gotten away with it anyway. I wish I could have a happy ending to all this, or some way to inspire others and tell them that it will be okay. But it took me until my early 20’s to fall in love again, to learn to trust again, and I ended up leaving him because after years of dating, a controlled, yet powerful sexual desire had built up between us (we both wanted to wait for marriage, him for religious reasons and me because I needed time, and so we respected each other’s wishes). It was beautiful, and everything love should be, but nothing ever came of it because I made up every petty excuse I could find to leave him. He never knew the truth. I’d rather he hated me than know the truth. To his credit, he later opened the door of friendship to me and we remain best friends to this day. I guess that’s kind of happy. I am now nearly 24 years old. After everything that has happened, my heart is truly stone and will not let love in. I do not feel like a survivor. The term “survivor” feels like something reserved for men and women far stronger than I could ever be. Lately I have been tired and unmotivated. I see my friends going out and having fun and dating and getting married and having kids, but I am afraid to go out in public. it takes a lot of mental preparation to leave my house, though I play it off as if I’m perfectly fine. I don’t know how to heal. I don’t know how to not be a victim anymore. I want to be a survivor. I just don’t know where to start.

The Courage to Escape

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Testimony by Rayne Smith
My relationship started off as poly. I was with my daughter’s father as well as my abuser whom I’m going to court for. Neither treated me right really, or my daughter, but I digress.
After my daughter’s father left the picture for various reasons, I found myself getting abused. It all started because I didn’t want to have sex with him daily. It all started with that. So, I got raped every day, my abuser not caring if my daughter was there. If I said “No” hands went around my throat and the roof over our heads was threatened. I “had” to have sex with him to be with him. One time, around Christmas I got thrown on the bed.
The last time he had his hands around my throat he cut off my windpipe and chased me around at an attempt to get my phone.
He’s currently serving for violation of his probation. I go to court for a show case case, he was also stalking me.
I’m not his only victim, I’m just the only one who had enough and did what needed to be done. This is my story in a nutshell.

Run Rabbit Run

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Testimony by “Mercy May”

At fourteen years old I was introduced to a ( what I thought was dreamy ) 27 year old guy that had long beautiful blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, stood six foot four and was a truck driver… With little concern from my parents ( or his ) we quickly moved from sneaking around, to ” dating” , then within months I was living with him. The first time he struck my in rage, I was shocked. My mother was a violent type of woman and so I retaliated. That surprised him. It was almost two years before he did it again. This time he broke ribs ( kicking me while i was down) , dislocated my jaw with one hit square in the jaw, and walked away smiling as I laid in the floor three months pregnant with his daughter. I spent time away, at my family’s home until healed enough to return, braced for more. This child would have a mother and father in her life and I wasn’t going to take that away from her. The night I went into labor, I interrupted him and his friends. No pictures were taken after delivery, I wouldn’t allow the black eye to be seen by her when she grew up. A child raising a child, with a husband on the road wasn’t easy but she was worth every heart ache. She was almost 3 years old when he finally couldn’t handle my happiness anymore. She witnessed many many restless nights of Momma and her ice packs. More than i care to share or admit. I left again with family after he pushed me from behind while walking with her in my arms. I feel across her and she (( and I blame myself still) hit her head on doorway, causing an immediate goose egg on her forehead. He had crossed a line. I got up, soothed her, rocked her stayed up all night with her afraid to let her sleep. The next day when he walked through the kitchen door of our home, I waylaid his ass with an aluminum baseball bat in the head as hard as I could at nineteen. Seventeen stitches down the side of his head, and I smiled, told him it wouldn’t happen again and waited for his retaliation in the coming days. No police were coming to get me, he didn’t want his families name drug through the mud. Within two weeks I learned we had a son on the way. I told him then it had to stop or I was leaving for good. ( never stay thinking it will get better- just go….) My son was born in March , spring time beautiful skies, dark bags under my eyes from being the best Mommy I could be, broken inside. I went to work, putting the two in day care, I helped introduce him to his Meth dealer ( a Co worker that he became friendly with) and then shit got real. Not only was he larger and meaner than me, now he seemed invincible. Broken collar bone, near miscarriage, dislocated shoulder, bruises….they watched it all unfold every night. He starred seeing ‘Cooks’ cousin, not behind my back but in our bed, in our home, in front of my kids. My attempt to leave then was unsuccessful, I truly loved what he was when we started and just knew he would realize his faults. Third child November of following year….bounced my head off of clothes dryer at his Mithra home, and she acted like she didn’t see it. Her baby boy could do no wrong. They were the perfect Baptist family, and we weren’t allowed to speak of it. His first birthday, I incited everyone, wanted it to be special for all three Kids. Streamers confetti balloons, I went all out. After party, I merely asked for a little help cleaning up the house. Second time I went downstairs and asked, he followed. But not to help. Everyday I look in a mirror now, I see how much he loved me. He cleared the dining room table with my head. I wear a partial, that’s why I cover my mouth when I smile or chew food. He took eight of my upper teeth at 24 years old. When I regained consciousness, my daughter ( five years old) was trying to put my bloody broken teeth back in my mouth. She was crying harder than anyone I have every seen to this day. Her brothers hiding in their closet and he was gone. Gone for days with no call no note on fridge no money on table and no car in driveway. I can tolerate pain now, like no other five foot woman should. I can tell you that the children will never see him hurt me again. I can tell you it wont stop till you leave. But I can’t tell you what its like to watch them grow up. After I left him, his family fought me for custody. And since 2007 have been in his family’s care, 278 miles away from me. Our divorce was finalized and I have no love in my heart left towards him. He beat the love from me, stripped me of my self dignity and has stolen their innocence from them . I can tell you, kids do remember. She told him last month she hated him. I feared he hit her. She hugged me, said Momma I will run, run away so far he wont ever find me. He still haunts my dreams. But I can’t feel what he does anymore. And it all could have been prevented if I had left the first time he backhanded me.. My kids were worth every scar every broken bone and every tear.
Feel free to shake your head at this point, I do every time I look in mirror

Moral of my lengthy story, ” Run run rabbit run away far far away, the first time.”

Much love tonight from Longview Texas.
Mercy May ( forgive but Momma doesn’t )

I pray someone, just one person, who needs to actually reads this and I pray you listen.

I was Afraid of Him and I didn’t Know Why

Testimony by Leah

How do I begin to tell my story? It has been 5 and a half years since the beginning of my story took place, and I still don’t know how to begin. You never think you could be abused and violated by a friend so badly, but you can. Friends can rape friends. And that is exactly what happened to me.

I decided to go to party at my friend’s house with a couple of my girl friends, and was ensured a safe ride home by one who was not going to drink. After what I remember to only be two or three glasses of white wine, I walked into my friend’s bedroom to check on him. He and I had known each other for one year and in the course of that year we had gotten very close…so close that he had developed feelings for me. I had told him a few times that the feelings were not reciprocated in that way and that I valued our friendship but did not want to date him. I have to admit, there were times when hanging out with friends that our fun conversations led to flirting back and forth. I felt bad about that after hearing that he had feelings for me, and tried to go on with our friendship without the awkward drama. But here we were, together in his room. That is the last thing I remember before having my clothes ripped off.

I had blacked out. Perhaps it was the wine or the shock of what was happening or a combination of the two, but I cannot for the life of me remember what happened from the time I got into his room to the time I was naked on the bed. He was forceful and far from kind. It was excruciatingly painful…I was a virgin. He was so determined to get into me that he had no care for my body. I was pushed up against the wall, hitting it with my head. He wielded my body to and fro, trying to get in while on top, bottom, or with his finger…any way just to get the job done. The horror of these bits and pieces of memories went on for hours, until suddenly out of nowhere I felt aware of my surroundings and what was happening to me. It was almost as if I had sobered up the second he finally got in me. I shrieked in horror at what was happening, told him to get off of me, and ran to the bathroom completely naked (luckily he had one connected to his room). As I sat in pain on the toilet seat I started saying over and over, “what have I done?” After I wiped and saw the blood, I really freaked out and told my “friend” that I needed to go home. He tried to get me to stay with him but I was dressing faster than I ever had before in my life. My girl friend then drove me home.

He had got his revenge in a horrific way. I lay awake the whole night in shock and disbelief. I was bruised from head to toe. My inner thighs were so sore that I could barely get up the stairs without wincing. I had hickies on my breasts, lips, and neck that were so purple I had to wear turtle necks (it was September) and layers of makeup. I had nightmares every night. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I thought of before I went to bed. My “friend” made an effort to wait for me outside my classes, take me to lunch, and text me almost every day. I was afraid of him and didn’t know why! When I got out of my classes early I would bolt in the opposite direction and not text him back. He was trying to make me believe he was still my friend, and that he hadn’t raped me. Every time he was around I forced a happy face and tried to ignore my short breaths and shaking.

His presence was so horrible that 3 months later I packed my bags and moved 2.5 hours away. I was experiencing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and didn’t know it.

It’s been a long road, but I now know (and believe) the truth of what happened that night. My old “friend’s” name is filed in his town’s police department. I learned a lot from what happened to me. I want to share with girls/women out there that they do not need to blame themselves for having sex when drunk. Alcohol is the number one form of date rape, and Hollywood does a disgustingly good job making women feel like no wrong is committed when alcohol and sex combine. The truth is that it’s not sex, it’s a crime even if you don’t say, “no”.

From Victim, to Survivor, to Thriver

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Testimony By Aime Hutton

My name is Aime Hutton, I am in Calgary Alberta, Canada.  I have a story that I would like to share with you.  I am a survior to thrivor from dating abuse/stalking in university.  Thank you for this opportunity to share my story.  Knowing that we are not alone.

My story is that we met in first year university while living away from home on campus.  He was sweet, and loving caring.  Then things got strange.  I noticed that he was wanting to know where I was all the time.  He got jealous when I was watching movies with actors in it that I found attractive.  And he also had a temper.  One night he and I were invited to another part of campus my boyfriend got angry at our friend and threw his keys at our friend.  Our friend said “Don’t throw things!”, he then looked at me then back at my boyfriend, and said “Don’t throw things ever.”  There were other times when I was scared of him, and hid on campus trying to get away from him.

The night I will never forget though is when we were out with a group of friends dancing at the pub.  I was down on the dance floor having fun with others.  I looked up to the balcony (where my boyfriend was), and waved at him to come and join us.  I got glared at and with his hand actions he demanded that I come to him at once.  I finished dancing to the song then went to see him.  He just stared at me, and said to me “You know that I can’t dance.”  He was angry, as we walked back to the dorms he was muttering under his breath.  My stomach was doing flip flops.  Once back in the dorm, by my bedroom he spun me around and backed me up against the wall.  Slamming his hands up by my face on the wall, he said to me “I love you, I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.”  He leaned in and put his hands on my cheeks, he kissed me and slid his hands down to my neck and squeezed.  Luckily he let go quickly.  I couldn’t move, or yell out.  I was able to end our relationship inbetween 1 and 2 of university.  Although I was still friends with others who were friends with him.

Then he also stalked me for the remaining years of university.  He would show up in places on campus where I was.  I felt like I was walking on egg shells when on campus.  I walked everywhere with the walk safe program at night.  And there was one night in the fourth year of university when my friends who I lived with on campus had him over for supper.  I stayed in my bedroom all night.  Didn’t even come out for supper.  My one room mate stuck her head in my room and said to me that it’s been 3 years, get over it already.

It took years to heal, with counselling and also personal development courses.

What am I doing now?  I am the Canadian Ambassador for the Freedom and Empowerment Teen Campaign.  A global campaign to support, educate, and empower those who have been through dating violence and domestic abuse.  As the Teen Ambassador speaking to the next generation and other caring adults with education and awareness about the waring signs of abuse, and the different kinds of abuse.  One of the keys to help stop the cycle of abuse is with education.

The Catholic Taliban – Part 2

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From the Page Administrator

 

Today I was walking down the street outside the clinic and an anti-choice protestor walked up to me, grabbed my volunteer sign, threw it on the ground, and then threatened to hit me with it. For a moment there I thought she might try to strangle me with her rosaries. You know… like Jesus would do.

I know what you’re thinking: why didn’t you call the police?

Well here’s the thing – in Sacramento, CA the police are anti-choice, and they are OK with the harassment of women and children at the clinic. After all, many of the clients are in poverty, so why would the police care about protecting them?

My sainted boyfriend came up with a great tool for me to combat harassment. He suggested that when a protestor is verbally abusing me, to videotape the whole thing. I tried this trick today, and it worked like a charm. Every time a protestor started to verbally harass me, I took out my phone and filmed them. Knowing that their abuse was being committed to film seemed to deter them from harassing me for more than 20 seconds.

I wish I could deal with these petulant protestors the way I deal with my cat when he misbehaves; by squirting them in the face with water from a squirt bottle. Then perhaps, they might learn how to behave like civilized human beings, or at the very least they might learn how to be as civilized as my cat is.