I want to share something. It may be a trigger warning for someone out here. I wouldn’t read this if you endured a rape that wasn’t based on intimidation. This maybe something that makes you remember something you don’t want too, or that you can relate to that may hash up those feelings again. Maybe someone can relate and helps them to know that they aren’t the only ones this has happened too. In either case, it is pretty intimately detailed, and please use caution when deciding to read this.
My rapist didn’t threaten me. He didn’t hold a gun to my head, or a knife at my throat. He didn’t even order me around. He had simply cornered me. At the time, I weighed about 85lbs. I was recovering from having a long battle with pneumonia, and that had left me very weak and fragile.
He was the maintenance man of the property I lived in. I lived in the camper next to his, and he worked on it a time or two before, knowing about the locks. He talked to me a good deal the day before it happened, and he expressed a very strong interest in having a relationship with me. I turned him down several times, explaining my loyalty to my boyfriend, and just being flat uncomfortable with his advances.
The night of the rape, he knocked on my door, jiggled the door handle, and the door unlocked… something he knew he could do. He entered into my camper and started talking to me, the same he had tried the previous day. I was already in my nightgown and was heading to bed when he had come in. He held onto me, tried to love on me, and kept trying to kiss me. I kept trying to tell him no and kept trying to get away. But he was too big for me to fight with, and I froze in fear. All he wanted to do was show his affection to me and try to win me over, and for me to be in a relationship with him, and love him as much as he thought he loved me.
The details got foggy from there on out. I don’t think he choked me or battered me in any way, but I think I shut down with the fear that I had. I had no bruises or scars to speak about and point to show what happened to me. The next morning, I got dressed, knocked the hell out of him with a cast iron skillet and ran away, barefoot and half dressed. All I could think about was to get to my boyfriend, but I had gotten lost in the new town. I had no one to turn too, and couldn't find my way. A cop stopped me. He knew what was wrong, but I was too afraid of the potential he had to harm me, that I couldn’t tell him what had happened. At the time, I didn’t even know that it was even an attack or rape.
Now, I have a problem. My boyfriend is desperately trying to show me how much he loves me. He wants to be intimate with me and love on me. But the idea scares the hell out of me. It isn’t because I don’t want it, but because I’m scared of the potential of being vulnerable to the will of a man. I love him with all my heart and want to be with him, but how can I when I get so afraid of the potential I just freeze up like I did way back then? I have approached sex as a wham, bam, thank you kind of moment. I know it is needed, and sometimes I want it too, but the intimacy and desire to love someone that way is just too much for me to bare.
The other thing about me… I was raised with a sexual predator as a brother. He attacked me physically and mentally starting at the age of eight, and it lasted until I left home at 16. The abuse was so bad that I had often thought about killing myself. Later, it came out, and he hit the national news that he was a predator. I finally felt some type of relief, knowing that my fears of him raping me had some basis, other than a figment of my imagination.