survivor stories

It was recent. I was out clubbing with friends, drinking no more than I usually did. I was having fun, our group had separated but I was always with someone. Out on the smoking terrace we discovered we had lost one of my friends, so I decide to go back in to find her. Blank. My memory returns briefly as he leads me to the seating area. We made pleasant small talk; he was 6 years older than me, he’d just graduated, that kind of thing. Then we went to the bar, and I saw someone on my course, and we chatted while he gets the drinks. I drank a bit at the bar then sit back down. We start kissing. Blank. We’re out on the street. We’re in a taxi. Blank. We’re at his apartment. I’m tired, I don’t feel so good, so I lay down in his room. Blank.
All I can remember are flashes of him forcing me to suck his cock, asking me to do things I didn’t want to, and immense pain while he forced sex. I remember waking to the sound of his snoring, still somewhat intoxicated, trying to remember what happened. I felt sore.
He woke up around 9 the next morning and he was acting normally. As if we had spent the night playing board games. He makes me do more things. I don’t know what to say, I hadn’t remembered everything by this point, so everything’s a bit awkward. He called me a taxi, but it never showed up. I stood outside shivering in the rain with no jacket, and I end up taking the train back, still dressed in my crop top and leggings.
I don’t know how to feel about it. My friends keep bringing the night up, and I don’t have the guts to tell them. They think it was just a regular one night stand, and by avoiding the subject I simply regret it a bit. I wish.
I feel embarrassed and used. I know I’m not as unfortunate as victims who have been attacked more violently, and I am inspired by those who are strong enough to carry on. As I was drunk I feel like I’m slightly to blame; I let my judgement slip, I was stupid, and I paid the price. I just want to talk to someone about it.

We first met when I was twelve. He was twenty, I think. I only remember that he was twenty-one by the time I turned thirteen and we had sex.
I had just come back from a field trip birthday.
When I was fourteen, I tried leaving him, but it didn’t work out. I ended up going back to him, like an idiot. When I finally cut off from him, I was fifteen.
All of this happened online and on my phone. I’m terrified to tell anyone. When I first tried, I cut out the part that was about it being online and that he was 21. I was crying when I did. It happened online.
The first time I told the part of the internet being involved, it was to my classmates. My temperature was going up and my voice was shaking. I was so scared of what they would think.
When I sat back down, one of my classmates said, “If you need anyone to talk to, I’m right here.”
Later, the teacher of the class I told that in was having one-on-one meetings with each of us. When it was my turn, I gave him more details on what happened. More on who the man was.
I could tell he didn’t like saying it when he told me it made me strong.
I appreciated it, though. Because I am strong. That man only has power over me for one second at the most per day. I’m still working through it, but I am making my way out of it.
The only thing I’m still terrified to do is tell my parents.

I don’t have a story, fortunately. But I do have a need to say that in my country, by legal definition of rape, it’s not rape if the victim has given her consent and changed mind afterwards and attacker didn’t stop but he finished rape in physiological terms. That really makes me mad.

I was 16; he was 21.
I had, earlier that week, beaten him in a shooting competition. It wasn’t the first time I did.
I was walking home alone; it’s a small town, middle of summer, an early night. It’d never been a problem before.
He came up and hit me from behind. When I’d fallen to the ground, disoriented and not all there, he kicked me multiple times - dislocating my knee and breaking five ribs.
I was still aware, even if very detached from the situation; I could not fight him, I could not scream, I couldn’t tell him no.
“This’ll teach you” he said, “this’ll show you.”
“Don’t be an uppity bitch,” he hissed in my ear, “I’m always better than you!”
I was brutally assaulted, raped and sodomized.
He was convicted of assault - there were no definite proof of it being rape - I hadn’t fought against him.

He died in prison a year later - even in prison, cowardly men who beat women aren’t accepted. If I knew where his grave is, I would dance on it.
He left my body broken, but my mind held strong.
I am unbreakable, I am unsinkable - I am a survivor.

so how do I comment on these posts? I really want to encourage the people who have posted stuff here....

There is no commenting section available however if you have a tumblr feel free to reblog then comment on whichever story you please. Thank you though for your support.

The first time it happened I just turned 14. Two days after, to be exact. I’ve finally convinced my parents to let me go on an unsupervised trip out of the city with two other girls and a few older boys from school. We got really drunk and high. One of them let me in to the bathroom. We were really good friends at the point and I didn’t think he would have it in him to have done that. I trusted him. He rammed his cock down my throat and told me that no one needed to know. The next morning I kept quiet. I didn’t know what to do. That night we went swimming. Another much older boy was there. He was a senior in college and he told me I was beautiful. He kept giving me drinks. The next thing I knew he was on top of me. I couldn’t move. I tried to scream. He had his hands over my mouth. The two girls walked in on us, but the other boys told them they didn’t need to be there and that I wanted it. When we got back from the trip, the whole school knew about. The girls actually told them. If anything positive came out of this was that I realized what I needed to do. I retreated and kept my head down. I worked hard at school and made friends with a group of girls who weren’t so judging. They told me whatever people are saying didn’t bother them, because they knew who I am and they love me for that. 

I thought that would’ve been the last time I would’ve encountered such an experience until 8 years later. My ex fling’s friend was in town and he asked if he could stay at my place for a night. I said it was fine, but that we will have to share my bed. I trusted him as well. He tried really hard. He finally had my panties down. I begged him to stop. I said why are you doing this. You’re Michael’s friend. He told me I know you want it. You don’t deserve Michael anyways. He called Michael the next morning and told him we’ve slept together.

I cried for a very long time.

I don’t think I’ve moved on yet. I haven’t been able to commit to a long-term relationship since. I’ve slept with a lot of boys, because I feel like that’s the only way I can get closed to them. Because I know they want it.

He won’t leave me alone. He haunts my nightmares. I still feel his breath blowing against my neck. It’s been over a year, but I’ll still get text messages sent to me every few weeks. “Hey, you remember me, right?” How can I forget? He stole something from me that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back. My trust… my sense of security… my mind… I’m tired of shaking while alone with men. I’m tired of wanting to scream so loud that my lungs collapse. I’m tired of feeling this hopeless rush come over my body. I’m tired of being tired. 

I’m not quit sure if this experience was my own fault, I feel like it is/was… I’ve been in many situations where a guy has tried to take advantage if me, or even in some cases touched me when I didn’t want them to, always stopping when I’d asked them to… Just as everyone in this world has, I’ve made mistakes I’m not proud of, like sending pictures of myself to men I’ve never met, and one even being a step cousin through marriage…. I can’t bring myself to forgive myself, I used to be really bad at sending pictures, but I’ve stopped, because I’m trying to he a better person…. But back to my cousin, after we had exchanged pictures and things were said, I did my best to act like it never happened, one night, I got this idea that we should go to the movies because I hadn’t been in a while, we went, while I went to sit down he grabbed my behind, while I was eating popcorn he put some down my shirt and reached down in my shirt and then ate it, I thought this us nothing, just ignore it…. When we got to my aunts house, I cleaned my face, changed, and layed down on the bed in the back room, he layed on the floor. When I asked him to turn the tv off because I can’t sleep with it in, he turned it off, but then I felt his presence behind me, to close, I then felt his hand move up my back and over and under my shirt, I was laying on my side, my back towards him, he then began to squeeze my breast and play with it, I was in complete shock and didnt know what to say, he started to love his hand down towards my pants but I told him I didn’t want to do that, and he then placed his mouth in my breast, sucking and biting on it… I layed there disgusted with myself for letting him continue to do what he was doing, when he stopped he told me to till over I knew I had to say something, I asked him if he could please stop, and he did…. I cried quietly once he left me alone, I was afraid to go to sleep thinking he might try something else… This happened a week ago, and it’s been eating away at me, I blame myself for the pictures long before this and im ashamed and sushi step because I think about this all day everyday…. I’m not sure if that would be considered sexual assult, but it’s affecting me deeply, I’m not the happy person I used to be

i was 15 and a small gathering with my friend and some boys and there was one boy in particular i thought was cute. as the night carried on he tried to kiss me and i finally gave in, before i was about to leave he asked me to come upstairs with him and i said okay and we started kissing on this other boys bed,I was shaking from anxiety but blamed it on being cold, he then tried to put his hand down my pants but i just pulled his hand back up. He tried this 6 times and i carried on saying no and pulling his hand up until i used the excuse ‘i haven’t shaved’ but he said he didn’t care so i just let him do it. It hurt but i made noises as i didn’t want to come across in the wrong way and when i thought it had finally finished i tried to get up but he forced my hand down his pants and thats when i panicked and tried to walk away but he kept trying to kiss me and i just walked out the room. when we got downstairs he didn’t talk to me but said he was sorry and we were friends for a short while after that. 

I still don’t think this counts but i wish i knew.

When I was 6..

There’s some things that have happened to me a long time ago that I can’t get out of my head. Sometimes I feel like I’m making a big deal out of everything, and I shouldn’t call it sexual abuse, but I know what happened wasn’t right. When I was 6 another kid, who was 8, did things to me. First it was kissing. He showed me how to make out and he would put his hands all over me. Soon it escalated to him using his fingers inside me. I had no idea what he was doing. I told him it hurt but he just kept telling me to be quiet and it would feel good. This went on for a year until I finally told my mom but she didn’t do anything. She just told me to never talk about it again.During this time, some neighbor kids locked me in their garage and threatened to kill me if I didn’t take my clothes off. I don’t remember much about that day. I’ve never admitted to anyone I was sexually abused but I thought I would post here because it still effects me 15 years later.