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A True Tale of Horror8 years ago. It was a freezing
cold February 14th. -30°C
or something close to it. Usual
winter temperatures for this little shit town in the north of Ontario.
I struggled with my long underwear, trying to hurry.
I was late for school as usual.
I brushed my teeth quickly and tossed my toothbrush in my bag,
knowing I would want it in the morning.
Tonight’s party was supposed to be great. School dragged on
for what seemed like eons. I
was bored to death and toyed with the idea of blissfully cutting afternoon
classes. Then I remembered I
was supposed to catch Lucy’s*
bus that night to go home with her. She
and her brother Mike* were throwing tonight’s bash. They lived way out in the boonies so it was the only way I
could get out to their place. Lucy’s
grades were in the dump, so I knew she wouldn’t cut class with me.
I had to stick it out. I was so clever
last night, telling my mom that it was just a sleepover and I’d call her
when I got to Lucy’s. I felt bas about lying to mom, but my parents would have
never let their 15 year old daughter go to a party where there’d be
drinking, pot and boys. But I
figured “I’m not a kid anymore, I should be able to do what I
please.” Besides, what was that cliché…”what they don’t know
can’t hurt them.” At 2:00 that
afternoon, I got a nagging feeling in my stomach that told me to skip
Lucy’s party and just go home. Something
awful was going to happen. I
usually pay attention to these warnings, but I ignored its lingering all
afternoon and reminded myself that it was probably the guilt I felt from
lying to mom. I got on
Lucy’s bus at a quarter to four. Once I got there I
called mom. It wasn’t long before I was distracted enough to forget
that awful burning in my stomach. People
were already at Lucy’s. I
didn’t know any of them, but the music was jacked and I prepared myself
for a typical night of partying, like many nights before and probably many
nights after. I opened a drink.
It was blue and sugary. It
was still early in the evening and the crowd hadn’t shown up yet. I was sitting on the couch while my best guy friend Budd*,
Lucy and Stacey* went outside for a toke.
Lucy’s brother Mike* was in another room with his friends, so I
called this guy I was sort of seeing.
I had met him a few days prior at the ski hill with a friend.
We chatted on the phone for a bit and that awful feeling came back.
I asked him to come to the party.
I hoped with him there the nagging feeling of dread would vanish. He never showed up. After the phone
call I don’t remember much. I
remember grabbing a second drink and then it’s all of a sudden the
middle of the night and Budd is locking my sick, nauseous self in Lucy’s
room. “Sleepy time for
_________” I’m gonna feel
sick in the morning I was thinking. I drifted into what I thought was a
drunken slumber with the last thought of “how sis I get so drunk?
I only brought 4 drinks and can only remember drinking two…. I woke up at I
don’t know what time to this sick bastard having sex with me.
Unable to move or speak I pass out again and repeat this process a
few more times…at one point I managed to scream for Budd.
I cried for Budd, I cried for anyone…no one came but a slap in
the face. My cheek throbbed
and I passed out again. I woke up in the
morning bleeding. Torn and sore and aching between my legs. (The only other
time I had sex was when I was eleven and an older boy attacked me in the
school yard at night while I was walking home from a friend’s). the bruises on my ribs and thighs reminded me of what I could
not fight off the night before. I vomited blue
syrup, brushed my teeth and got my coat on.
My pants had been ripped at the button, so I grabbed a safety pin
off my school bag, and secured them as best I could.
I then began the long, icy, four hour walk home, trying to piece
together the details of last night’s nightmare.
The nightmare which prevented me from calling my mom for a ride.
I slept the whole weekend. This
was not unusual for me and raised no suspicion at home. Monday morning, I
stepped out my house a broken, scared child, and at school the biggest
whore this little town had ever seen.
I had apparently slept with five guys at Lucy’s party and had a
lesbian experience. The other
people supposedly involved were not mentioned.
Funny that 6 people involved with one common denominator just
happened to be excluded from the gossip and rumors that would ruin the
nest three and a half years of my life, and leave a permanent scar on my
being. My father’s
sister confronted me after she heard the rumors while sitting in a burger
place with my little cousin having lunch.
She let me cry and falsely comforted me.
I trusted her at that time. She
told me she would let me tell my parents. My dad was working
night shift, I would wait for him to leave and then I would recount
everything I could remember to my mom.
That was a good plan. My
heart raced through the rest of the day, and the burning in my stomach
never did stop. I somehow
managed to trudge through the glares and crooked smiles that came my way.
The whispers and the laughter sliced and burned to my very core.
To top it off, people I thought were my friends took turns pouring
salt into my already weeping wounds. Maybe I would die
of this knot in my stomach. I
wished, I prayed to everything holy I had ever known that I would be
killed by a bus or a car or something to end this misery before the day
was over. I opened the door
and stood in shock as my parents called me into the living room.
To my surprise and horror my aunt was sitting there with my
parents, and had this smirky grin on her face.
She was loving this. She
had told them, but she had told them only part truths and blatant lies.
The real events never make it out of my mouth, they wouldn’t
believe me and I couldn’t talk to them in front of my aunt.
I knew at that moment things were never going to be the same after
this, for any of us. After huge bouts
of fighting, crying and screaming, my punishments were doled out.
No sleepovers, no parties, no boys, no leaving the house.
Afterward my mom phoned the police, but they agreed with everyone
else that I had asked for it, and there was nothing they would do.
I guess I had asked for it wearing my oversized t-shirts and my 4
sizes too big pants, with no makeup and a boy haircut, I’d asked for it.
(Note the sarcasm) I didn’t know
how I was ever going to survive this.
I was terrified, I felt guilty, hurt, dirty and worst of all,
alone… Not much has
changed since that February when I was 15 years old.
Life became more difficult, my stomach continued to burn.
I learned soon that the burning inferno that was once my stomach;
would forever be a part of me and my daily existence.
I was right, nothing was the same for any of us ever again.
Mt parents had a slut for a daughter, and I was branded with a
scarlet letter made from the pieces of what should have been my
adolescence. The most
important things I learned from all of that, is that time does NOT heal
all wounds. Sway * Names have been changed Rape is not funny. If you our someone you know is a victim of sexual assault or rape you/they have to tell someone. It doesn't only happen to girls either, and there are many services available to help you. I've listed Canadian resources here, but please check you local directory for services in your area. Toronto
Rape Crisis Centre - 416-597-1171 Kids help phone 1-800-668-6868
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