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A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

I started dating him during college. I remember him catching my eye the day I met him, his laugh, his curiosity with the world and the way he smiled when we spoke. We got to know each other over hours of tea time, and we started dating at the end of my senior year of college. I was off to med school in a city 4 hours away, and we were determined to make long distance work. He was my first boyfriend, and after COVID had thinned out my experience of college, I was excited to have found my person. I was incredibly happy in the beginning of our relationship, getting to do things for the first time with a boyfriend and experiencing what it was like to be desired and loved romantically. The feelings were intoxicating. In my naivety of a first relationship, especially my first serious relationship at the age of 21, I failed to seriously question behaviors that I saw in my partner. Take it as a result from my limited exposure to healthy relationships in childhood or my fear of admitting to myself that something was wrong. The part that was most foreign to me as someone new to relationships was navigating my own relationship with sex. I enjoyed sex, especially with someone that I loved, and I was convinced of the idea that I needed to always be able to provide sexually for my partner since now, we were exclusive, and I was his girlfriend. I appreciated knowing that I was desired, and my partner enjoyed being intimate with me. This worked for a while, until I started to need to set boundaries and prioritize my need for sleep and being able to function well in the high pressure environment of medical school. This is a story of a night that happened too many times for me to count in my relationship, so often that I knew it was going to happen every time he came to visit. There would be nights when I needed to get to sleep early because I needed to get a good night of sleep before an exam, or be well rested for another day of clinicals at the hospital. It would be about 10:30 pm, I would get ready for bed, knowing that I’d get a decent 7 hours of sleep if I was in bed by 11. He would be working or winding down his work, I would remind him that I needed to get to sleep so I could get enough rest for my next day. His work was very time consuming and he worked late into the night often, so I never pushed him to go to bed when he had something to work on. The one thing I would remind him of however, was that I wanted to be asleep by 11. If you want to have some intimate time, please wrap up soon because I need to sleep. I would brush my teeth, get in bed and he would say that he was wrapping up. I would try my hardest to stay awake until 11, scrolling on Tik Tok, or Instagram, hoping the blue light would do its job. 10:55. He closes his laptop and heads to the bathroom. I try my best to stay awake. 11:05. 11:10. 11:15. 11:20. I hear a toilet flush and the shower turn on. I can’t fight my exhaustion anymore, maybe it’s the frustration, the stress from studying, or just the exhaustion of cooking, cleaning, packing lunches and breakfast and making dinner for two whiles being a medical student. I fall asleep. 11:45. I’m woken up by him sliding into bed and I turn to curl up on his chest. He pulls me in to a cuddle , stokes my back and kisses my head. “Maybe do you want to do some sexy time?” He asks me. This is a question I know all too well in this exact situation that has played our too many times to count in our relationship. I respond the way I always do, convincing myself that this time, I’m going to stand my ground. “Baby it’s really late and I told you I needed to sleep, I don’t want to have sex, I’m really tired” “That’s okay! Then maybe we can do things other than sex?” The dance between us has started, and I know I really need to sleep but that he is going to get quiet and distant for the next day if I keep refusing. I tell myself that I need to prioritize my sleep right now, and he will get over not having sex for a night. It puzzles me that he thinks that giving him a blow job is any less exhausting than having sex and somehow is still okay to ask for when I told him I was really tired and needed to sleep. “Baby please I’m really tired, I don’t have the energy to blow you” “That’s fine, we can do it in the morning then” I hate making commitments that I can’t keep and I hate when anyone does the same to me. My response is a reflection of that, and in hindsight, not the best decision to getting this dance over with. “I have to be up at 6 I’m not getting up any earlier than that and I don’t think you will be waking up that early either” He goes quiet for a moment. “Maybe we can do some kissy?” I understand that his love language is physical touch and at this point, the guilt overwhelms me. The boy that I love has traveled hours to come see me and spend time with me, and here I am trying to sleep instead of making him feel loved. I know the logic is skewed, but I always wanted him to feel loved and know how much I loved him. If I could just kiss him a little bit, subtract some of my sleep, then that’s okay. This boy loved me and I loved him, I can spend a bit of time kissing him and reminding him that I found him attractive and desirable as well. I would lift my chin and kiss him, gently, softly, as passionately as I could for someone half asleep. I would try to meet his level of intensity, the sleep and exhaustion weighing on my eyelids. Eventually the exhaustion would catch up to me and I would stop moving my mouth as much. “Baby! I’m trying to kiss you but you’re not seeming very into it!” He says. “I’m sorry handsome I’m just so tired, I love you” He lets out a sigh and reaches for my hand that is laying on his chest. He takes my hand and places It right where he wants it. He’s hard. The feeling of dread washes over me. I love this boy, I do, and I’m flattered that he desires me. But I am just so sleepy and exhausted right now. He moves my hand against himself. He uses his other hand and reaches for my waistband. He slides his hands inside and touches me. “I think someone wants me” he says. Of course I find him attractive. I’m just so tired right now and I don’t want to do anything but sleep. He kisses me more passionately. Touches me more aggressively. Makes me touch him more aggressively. The exhaustion has won over my determination to not let this happen again. “Please I’m really tired” My plea goes unanswered as he takes off my bottoms and his own. I know at this point, it is easier and faster to get this over with than to keep trying to fight for myself and refuse his advances. Any time I had refused his sexual advances in the past I’d be met with cruelty. I would beg him to say something while I profusely apologized, and he would keep silent. If it was in the morning, I would explain that I was in pain and would ask to figure out our days together. He would refuse to partake, roll his eyes and would go back to sleep. He would get out of bed after 10am, ensuring that I wouldn’t be able to of any of the things that I wanted to do with him that morning. Once he wore me down and I gave him reluctant consent when I was in pain, asking him to be gentle. The pain was severe as soon as he entered me, and I cried out. I profusely apologized but he stayed silent, even as I begged him to say something. I didn’t realize that this was stonewalling and emotional abuse. Come to think of it, I could never have a period in peace when I was with him. If I lied in bed moaning in pain, he would sometimes comfort me a little. But every single time it would end in him making the same joke, even after I had expressed numerous times how much it bothered me. “You know what would make your cramps feel a lot better?” He meant sex. He always meant sex. Even when I explained to him what excruciating pain I was experiencing, he wanted sex. Even after I explained to him that it bothered me that he kept making that same joke, explained how it made me feel like he didn’t understand the amount of pain I was in. He just wanted sex. It never mattered if I was in pain. He laughed when I cried about how upset that joke made me. My naïve heart was convinced that laughter was innocent. Most of those times he wouldn't relent until we had sex, or I pleasured him in some other way. 12:10. He reaches for a condom, and before I know it, we’re having sex. I’m doing anything I possibly can to get this over with as quickly as possible. Move the way he wants me to touch him the way he wants me to. All the while thinking to myself, “please just finish I’m so tired and need to sleep”. 12:30. He’s done. I try to hold back my tears as I head to the bathroom. How did I let this happen again? I talked to him about this again just last week. I told him I need him to respect my bedtime didn’t I? I asked him to please not push it when I say I don’t want to have sex. I asked him to please not reach for my hand and make me touch you. He verbalized understanding, said that he only wanted to have sex if I did. What was I doing wrong that this kept happening even after I talked to him about it? I go back to bed, he’s curled up facing away from me, starting to fall asleep. I know he likes to have sex before bed to help him fall asleep, it helps him work out the “zoomies before bed” as he calls them. I lay next to him and the tears start silently falling down my cheeks. Is this what being an exclusive partner is supposed to be like? Am I rarely going to be able to sleep when I want to because I need to be there for him to have sex with before bed, the way he likes? Are my pleas to be left alone always going to get ignored? If we live together, get married, is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? One thought sinks to the pit of my stomach. Is this assault? 12:45. I finally get the chance to sleep undisturbed. My hope for 7 hours of sleep has dwindled down to 5. I guess I’ll just be groggy and exhausted working at the hospital again. This was my boyfriend, the boy I have been with for years. He says he loves me. I love him. He cares about me, buys me groceries, buys me birthday presents. He goes to dinner and comes to visit me while I’m at school. He helps fix my car and my devices. We brush our teeth together most nights before bed. He’s my best friend. Some of my friends say we look cute together and have funny banter. Could a person like that assault me? I certainly didn’t say yes. I said no at the beginning and said that I did not want to have sex, but I’m not sure I said no or asked him to stop when he grabbed a condom. I was too tired to put up a fight, I just wanted to get it over with. This wasn’t the first time. It happened just about every month he came to visit me. I tried to talk to him about it often, he called it bickering and said that he liked sex before bed and first thing in the morning and it was hard for him to wrap up work earlier so things wouldn’t happen so late. He shut down when I brought up the topic and said that this was his love language and it made him feel loved. I wanted him to feel loved, just not at the expense of my lack of sleep. I initiated sex often to make him feel loved, and at a time that would be conducive to my need for sleep. But no matter how many times we had sex before I was winding down my night, he always wanted sex when he went to bed because it helped him get to sleep easier. We talked about making time for sex, planning. He agreed when we spoke about it, but the action never happened. What was I left with? No matter what we spoke about, the same thing happened. I spoke to someone close to him about my distress because I wanted to understand anything I could to help reframe my feelings, and hopefully understand him better and feel less hurt. “He’s a 23 year old boy who sees his girlfriend once a month, what do you expect? You’re being irrational” “Maybe you shouldn’t sleep in the same bed then” “If you can’t meet his needs then you need to talk to him about it” “So what if he cheats on you, it’s just sex he’s still choosing to be with you right?” Was I the girl that was depriving him of happiness? I wasn’t giving him the kind of sex he wanted at the hour he wanted? I didn’t think he was a malicious person. The kindest explanation that I could come up with was that his brain shut down when he was in the mood, and he had a hard time thinking about much else other than his desire for sex. His frontal lobe forgot to consider that maybe his actions were hurting me, and he saw convincing me as a challenge. After all, I was his girlfriend and we should be intimate together, and there were many times when I enjoyed it. All he could think about in the moment was just working out his zoomies to help him get to sleep. However, there is a reason why were are humans, not bunnies – we have advanced cognitive reasoning and I don’t think idiocy is an excuse. He loved me, right? Why would he want to hurt me? These thoughts are why I stayed as long as I did. He didn’t mean to hurt me, he just was young and dumb and was working on developing his emotional intelligence. I was convinced that it would grow with time and the more we spoke about it, little by little he would understand. But he didn’t. Was I just being impatient? Long story short, things in our relationship feel apart when things surfaced about how angry he was about the times I refused sex when I was tired, and his desires to be with someone who was more sexually exciting than me, someone with bigger breasts and fuller curves like the porn he looked at multiple times a day. The feelings and questions from all the times that I was pressured into sex surfaced. I felt that these feelings and situations when I felt pressured were the reason why I was so guarded with him sexually and didn’t always feel comfortable and I wanted to work through it with him so I could be more sexually exciting for him. I talked to him about these situations. “I think that was a form of assault. I was pressured into sex when I didn’t want to and it made me uncomfortable” “I never meant to be assaulting you, I’m sorry you felt like that. I can see how you took as that though” He wanted to see if moving in together would fix things for us. The thought of spending every night like this terrified me. “We can have two different bedrooms so that doesn’t happen” he offered. Why couldn’t he just respect my boundaries? I wanted to be able to cuddle in bed with my partner at the end of a long day and feel comfort without the worry that I had to provide sexually when I was exhausted. “I’d appreciate being able to talk through this with you because I have felt violated in this relationship and I’m in a pretty bad place” I told him I was done when he yelled at me over the phone. He was going to look into couples counseling. He said he was doing some deep introspection about his feelings. He sent me a letter saying he didn’t want to be with me a few days later because I was bickering and upset with him. “This is just too much, and I don’t have the time to deal with this and work through these things with you. My work is an extension of me, my priority, and I need to focus on that...I don’t want you to come away from this feeling like you were abused for 3 years” The boy who said he loved me unconditionally had found his condition. His points were valid, everyone has a right to their own priorities. However, it struck me that after 3 years together, he still didn’t respect me or care about me enough to take responsibility and help me talk through the trauma that I had undergone in our relationship. It is always hard to confront that we have hurt someone that we love, and I want to think that his avoidant tendencies put him in fight or flight mode when he heard how much pain I was in. He must have thought it was easier to just run away, stop hurting me instead of confronting the hurt that he had caused me. I convinced myself of every excuse I could possibly make for him. At the end of the day, I was left with myself, healing from being violated throughout my relationship, screaming, crying, not knowing how to speak about what had happened to me. But here I am now, trying to learn how. Was this ignorance? A habitual miscommunication every month? Even that just sounded ridiculous, how can I speak to him about the same thing every month just for him to never hear it? Was I making too many excuses for him? Was I too much of a people pleaser, and was he looking to steam roll me to get what he wanted? Assault always felt like too strong of a word to describe this. Was there a smaller tier to describe being touched when I didn’t want to be and being nudged into sex when I did not want it? Is there a word to describe your partner of years habitually having sex with you when you did not say yes, and did not want to? ChatGPT says “the term for that is ‘coercive sex’ or ‘sexual coercion’ if there was pressure, guilt-tripping, or manipulation involved. If there was no consent at all, even if it was within a long-term relationship, it is legally and ethically considered rape or sexual assault, depending on jurisdiction.” I’ve never been able to call this rape, but I’m coming to understand that rape isn’t always violent and can be done by someone who is an intimate partner who was not physically abusive. He never hit me or got violent with me. But this, whatever it was, came with emotional abuse and still sucked. I felt very disrespected and violated. One thing that I am sure of (unfortunately) is that I am not alone in this experience. I appreciate you for reading this story, whether you can relate or not.

I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

I was assaulted by a man, who was an acquaintance, in my apartment. We had hooked up once before, and it had been quick but fine. Things started consensually, but at one point it began to hurt me and I asked him if we could stop. At that point, he pushed down on my upper back, high enough that my mouth was half pushed into the pillow. I froze, and couldn't move at all. I just waited for him to finish whatever it was he wanted to do. The aftermath was extremely confusing. I first thought that it was just a bad experience. But as the months went on, I realised it was playing on my mind too much to be dismissed as that. Six months after the assault, I sought some medical tests. It was a year after, amid a particular run of sexual assault stories in the media, that I contacted rape crisis centre to get help. I also reported to the Gardai several years after my assault, and while they handled it well they also warned that if I was to pursue an investigation that the process could be very exposing and I chose not to take it further. My assault took place only six months after I had come out as queer, and so it felt like much of what I had worked hard to accept about myself and to go through as part of coming out was impacted -- the freedom to be who I was and to enjoy my sexuality was taken away for a long time. My assault was not the first time nor the last time I experienced non-consensual behaviour, although was by far the most serious and impactful occurrence.

I am a survivor of child on child sexual abuse. this started when I was around 6, I would have sleepovers at my grandparents house with my cousin, we would often stay in the living room while our grandparents were in their room. We would have blankets and pillows set up in front of the tv, i remember the first time it happened i felt really weird, she was only a year older than me but she pulled the blanket over us and she asked if i wanted to play a game, i said yes and she grabbed my hand and pulled it into her pants and on her private part, any time we had sleepovers she would do this, after months of this she began doing the same with her hands to me, this went on for 5-6 years. i’m currently in therapy getting help for this, trying to understand it and trying to heal from this.

I was 6 when it happened. When I told, nobody believed me. After all who who believe a 7 year old could molest a 6 year old? That's exactly what happened. He would start with a massage or singing to me. When I didn't like it he threatened me with a pocket knife and that he'd kill me if I ever told. I did. I told a babysitter, who told my parent, who told my teacher, who told the principal. The principal met with both of us together, then separate. In retaliation, he cut me on the arm with the knife. The principal didn't believe me. There was no punishment. We were to stay on separate playground equipment or be anywhere near each other. He bullied me for the next 5 years until he left the school. That's when the memories came back. It had quite an impact on me since I was 11 at the time, I looked much older. I easily attracted male attention which lead to sexual harassment and further traumatization. I was in a long term psych facility at the age of 12 because of a suicide attempt. There was a male staff member who seemed to enjoy destroying the teen girls there. When he got to me the first time, he wanted to know every detail of my abuse. When I got upset, he laughed at me and made fun of me. Later, he made comments on the way I looked and my eating habits. Telling me skinniness was unattractive on me. If we wanted out of that place, we had to admit everything he said was right. I did wahat I could to get out of that abusive place, I got out in 2 months. Many years later, I was 18, I met a man 11 years older than me. I liked him alot and he had shown some interest in me. He later convinced me to leave the country with him. My home situation has always been bad and still is. I went with him. We ended up getting married, at his insistence, after only three months of knowing each other, becoming homeless, and eventually returning to the US. We lived with his family, I started to get over his brainwashing, saw how abusive he really was. He had been taking advantage of me sexually, I started refusing him. He then started raping me. At first it was only a few times, then when we lived on our own, it became more frequent, along with other forms of daily abuse. He did it to show "dominance" because he refused to work, spent my money on drugs and alcohol, and slept/watched TV/got high all day while I was at work. He became more violent and paranoid over time. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't cry multiple times a day from the constant abuse. I tried leaving him, he would threaten to kill himself, psychologically torture me or physically threaten me until I changed my mind, or promise me things would be better. The turning point came after I possibly became pregnant, he was going to force me to have an abortion. I miscarried due to the abuse. I couldn't go to the doctor, if my parents found out, they told me they would completely disown me if I got pregnant. A month later, he raped me in my sleep and a few days later tried to strangle me. I did move out but later came back at his and his parent's insistence. I saw no other way out, I didn't want to be divorced at such a young age (be damaged goods) and I couldn't handle living with my abusive parents again so I tried to take my own life. After getting out of the psych hospital, (who had been no help whatsoever in helping me get away from him or my family), I did get the paperwork together to divorce him, of course, he convinced me to tear them up. A month later, I did file the papers and tell him it was over. We finally separated after he held me hostage in my car, for the umpteenth time and tried to take me to another city. The divorce came through a few months later. We had been married a little over a year, I was 20.

I was assualted, sexual assualted by a man I trusted, who I looked up to. I was 21 at the time, modeling, doing shoots, stepping into the modeling industry. Little did I know how dark things would get. These women who would stand by these abusers. He groped me from behind and touched me sexually on a shoot. I froze, I couldn't say anything. Couldn't process what was happening. He drove me home, told me to play with myself and let him watch. I ignored his requested and he told me if his wife found out, she'd die from the stress (she was sick at the time) and it would be MY FAULT. I strongly believed this and held everything in for three months. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, denied it. Everywhere I looked I saw the make of his car, his name, thought he was following me. I eventually I had a breakdown, went to the guards. Who were absolutely useless and laughed at my five page statement. There was no evidence but my word against his. So he got models to read off scripts and tell the guards how I was in love with this man and "asked for it". Told everyone in the industry that I was "unstable" and how he feared for HIS life. As if I was the predator. The coward couldn't even come forward himself...turned everyone against me. Feeling so alone, I confided in my dance instructors who I really trusted. Only for them to be STILL working with this man to this day. I gave up fighting as no one around me believed me. Taking me 7 years to open up again about my trauma. Everyday it still effects me..seening his name everywhere on social media. People singing him praises, if only they knew... would they believe me?? Do I risk going through the trauma all over again??

On the morning of Friday 13, [My best friend/his wife] asked if I'd come over to watch [child] that night so I did. She went to bed around 4 PM and it was just him, [child], and I there besides her at the time. [Their roommate couple] was at work and [couples baby] was at his grandmother's. We got Plateful for dinner at around 5:30 PM, per my request for Chinese when he asked what I wanted for dinner. On the way back from picking up the food, he started asking a very personal question. He asked "how long has it been since you were eaten out?" I stayed silent but then said I didnt want to answer that but he kept asking. Silence. He started guessing "1 year?" "2 years?" "3 years?" "4 years?" "5 years?" I finally answered "yeah" when he said 5 years. He said that would change tonight and I said "No it won't, I'm fine, nothing is going to happen." He persisted and said that he "promised" something would and I kept disagreeing until we got back to the house. I made [childs] plate and he brushed really close behind me in the kitchen so I rushed to go sit down on the couch (a large sectional, I sat in the corner) with her food and my food. We all ate and I put on "The Babysitter" as something to watch. He made a few remarks that I can't remember but I do remember saying "If you want some Nookie go wake up your wife". After we got done eating, I played with [child] and he got really close and started playing with her too. I was tickling her and we were playing when he started to tickle me too, which I found strange but not harmful. (My pants kept sliding from me moving around and I had to pull them up a lot. He took notice.) This preceded until he sent [child] to bed at 7 PM, which was weird because her bedtime wasn't until 8. But he's her dad so I wasn't questioning it. I put on "The Babysitter: Killer Queen" because I wanted to watch the second movie and he agreed. Then he started saying that his hands were cold and started putting them in my left jean pocket and in my shirt. Anywhere close to me, really. He took his hand out of my shirt but kept the other in my pocket and I kept asking for my pocket back but he'd just say "my pocket" so I thought it was a joke, a weird joke, but still it seemed like a joke. I continuously told him that it was my pocket and he kept repeating thatit was his. I tried to pull his hands out of my pocket and told him to stop and give me my pocket when he started to reach for the other pocket too. Every time I tried to pull his hands away he gripped down really tight into a fist with my pocket fabric in the middle of his hand. I physically could not get his hands off of me. I was already starting to feel uncomfortable but I didn't wanna seem rude or make him upset. He's a big guy and easily overpowers me. He put his hand in my right pocket too at first then we turned toward the movie and he removed it. After a minute He tried to put his hand back in my right pocket too but he ended up pulling the front of my pants open and putting his hand there instead. I said "[his name] stop that's not a pocket" with wide eyes. I know my eyes were wide, I could feel it. He said "even better" then his hand moved into my panties and touched my vagina. He said "Ooh and its shaved". I felt sick to my stomach thinking what was going to happen and I told him "no" and tried to pull his hands out again. He wasn't budging. He moved the blanket I had on off of me and pulled the front of my pants down to see the area above my vagina. He bit my thigh and then put his mouth on said area. He started moving more into my space and looked expectantly at me. I didn't want to fight him and I didn't want to upset him. "No" and "Stop" weren't working. So I started to pretend I liked it to make it go by faster. I pulled my pants down around my thighs to make it seem like I was enjoying it and he moved between my legs and starting licking and biting down there. I looked away from him and closed my eyes really tight. He kept trying to push my legs open wider and it hurt because of my jeans so I look my left leg out of my jeans and spread my legs apart more so he would stop pushing. It felt so wrong. I was trying not to cry at this time. He finished up after about 30 seconds of me faking moans and even faking an orgasm to get him to stop faster. He came up, I immediately pulled my pants up and he said "I promised that's all I'd do to you". He then said "your pussy tastes good" and grabbed me by the neck and shoved his tongue into my mouth. I tried to kiss back to make him satisfied but I ended up just laying there and taking his tongue. I felt like a ragdoll, being used. When he stopped kissing me, I pulled the blanket back over me to shield myself a little bit. He moved and sat on the other end of the couch at first and asked me to come cuddle him. He kept saying "come here" and patting the couch in between his legs. When I refused, he asked what was wrong then came back over into my space. I said that I felt bad and guilty to try and get him to feel guilty too. He said "Shhh" and put his hand into my pants again. I tried to divert his attention back to the movie but it wouldn't work and he put his head in the way of the TV so I couldn't see. I tried again to pull his attention to the movie again to no avail. He then started fingering me, and he lifted my shirt and bra up and took my left nipple into his mouth. Again, I pretended to like it. I thought it would make it go by faster if I pretended to orgasm fast. He finished and made me taste myself on his fingers. Then we watched the movie for a bit and I pulled my hoodie over my face to hide. We commented on the movie a bit. He tried to get me to come cuddle or something with him again but I shook my head no. Then he stood up, came over to me, and spread my legs and layed between them and pressed himself on me. He then moved back to the side of me and unbuttoned my pants and fingered me again. I pretended to like it. He kissed me again and I just didn't even try this time. I just layed there again, with my mouth open and my eyes shut. When he was done he said "don't tell anyone about this" and said that I wouldn't and I told him he could never ever mention a "tip" ever again and I said that this would be "a one night only thing because [hes] satiated now" in the hope's he would agree and never do it again. He said he wasn't satiated. (The "tip" he mentions was one day months ago we went to get pizza and I rode with him and he handed me the pizza and he asked for a tip, I made a joke and pretended to pull my shirt up and flash him. He's been making sexual jokes towards me since.) Anyways, he said "maybe I won't, at least not with her around" and he pointed to the bedroom where his wife was sleeping because she had to be at work at 11 PM. He asked me to come over near him where I was leaning on him and then he asked how long I had been wanting that to happen. I stayed silent, because I didn't ever want that to happen. He asked again and he said "come on, I know you thought about it. How long had you wanted it to happen?" I never thought about it not even once but I didn't want to make him upset so I said "I didn't think that would ever happen" hoping it was enough. It wasn't. He asked again, "so how long?" I lied again. I told him that I wanted it "the past couple times" I mumbled it hoping it would be a good enough answer this time. I moved off of him and got back in my spot. He smiled and tried to hold my hand but after about 2 seconds I let go of his hand and he moved back to the other side of the couch again and asked me to come over there to him for a second time, I declined again. (Sidenote: Throughout him fingering me he kept making me face him when I'd try to look away, he'd pull my hoodie down when I tried to hide my face. I would try to close my legs a few times while he was fingering me too so that he might stop but then he'd force my legs apart again and tell me to keep them spread.) (Somewhere in here he made a joke about him having something that spits or is like a fountain. Something alone those lines, referring to his penis. I didn't want it to escalate any further so I was hoping he wouldn't try to make me touch it or god forbid suck it. I feel sick even thinking about it.) It was then exactly 9:27 PM, a few minutes after he finished and he had sat away from me again, and I said I needed to go to the bathroom. I got up and went toward him because I have to go past where he's sitting in order to make it to the bathroom. He told me to come here tilted his head for a kiss and help my arm while I bent down to give him one. The tried to pull me in his lap but I told him to let me go to the bathroom and he let me go. I made it to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet to use it. I immediately pulled my phone out of my hoodie to text my other best friend what had happened. She told me what he did was raping me. I knew it was but I didn't ever believe he would do that and I felt heartbroken because he used to be a friend that I trusted. She told me I needed to tell [my best friend/his wife] and I agreed that I wanted to but I didn't want it to seem like I was just trying to ruin her marriage or her to think I was just sleeping with her husband. I did plan on keeping quiet. He knocked on the door and asked if I was pooping and I said yes, which was a lie, I just didn't want to go back out there. I stayed in the bathroom until around 9:50 PM when I felt like the pooping story wasn't believable anymore. I sat back down on the couch and tried to play on my phone and text my other best friend but I didn't want him to know that I told anybody do I ended up putting it down. [My best friend/his wife] got up for work shortly after, he went into the bedroom with her. She came out with her uniform on and asked me "how did you get his ass to agree to chinese?" I said "he asked what I wanted, I said Chinese" she then kissed me on the cheek and left for work. She had agreed to let me keep her phone while she was at work because their dog chewed their remote up and she had a remote on her phone and I didn't have space to download the app for the remote on my phone. So she left without her phone, because I had it. I didn't tell her what happened yet because he was still awake, and now I couldn't text it to her. As soon as she walked out the door, he ran to the window on the door make sure her truck left the driveway then looked at me and asked "do you wanna go fuck?" I shook my head no and he asked "why, you don't want to finish again?". He had a smirk on his face. I shook my head no again and he said "alright then I'm going to bed". He went to bed and a few minutes later, [roommate couple and baby] got home. I'm also [babys] babysitter so they were confused why I was there and I told then I was last minute supposed to watch [child] but didn't really watch her so I was there for no reason basically. They handed me [baby] and I had him until around 1:30 AM because he refused to sleep. They took him to bed around then and I fell asleep around 2 AM while watching YouTube. I woke up abruptly at 5 AM with the urge to charge my phone since I hadn't the night before. I went to the bathroom, then ate a sugar donut(came with Chinese food from the night before) from the fridge. And I layed down and covered up on the couch again. A few minutes later, around 5:15 AM I heard the bedroom door handle and I pretended to be asleep with my eyes barely cracked open so I could see. He walked to the door and looked out the window in his same shorts from the night before. He went back to his room and I opened my eyes then shut them again knowing he was gonna come out to go to work soon. He had his work uniform on when he came out next and he sat directly beside me thinking I was asleep. I was laying on my side and he moved the blanket off me, pulled on the button on my jeans, unzipped them, and stuck his hand in my pants again. I squirmed to make it seem like I was just waking up and then stopped and pretended to sleep again in a different position. His hands never stopped. Finally I knew I couldn't pretend to sleep through the whole thing so I opened my eyes and pretended I was grumpy that I got woken up. He asked me to turn over and I layed my head down again after shaking it no and grumbled. He asked what was wrong and I said that I was tired. He didn't stop. He kept going and I said that I was sleepy again. He finally took his hand away and said "alright well go to sleep then, button your pants back first". So I buttoned them, zipped them and layed down again with my eyes closed until he left and I heard him pull away in his truck. I stood up and ran to the bathroom and texted my other best friend again what had just happened. I stayed awake after that crying and I plugged in [my best friend/his wife's] phone in the bedroom for a bit because I needed it to watch tv. It charged enough I could then watch YouTube on the tv to calm my nerves. Around 7:30 AM, [my best friend/his wife] came home from work, took of her jacket and put her keys up and asked me what was wrong. I told her nothing at first, but she's known me for 10 years. So she knew something was wrong by the way I looked. I was curled up with my face in my hoodie and avoiding eye contact. I didn't mean to be so obvious that something was up. I thought I was trying to hide it. I kept shaking my head but she persisted and I broke and started crying and told her that it was [his name] but I couldn't tell because he would be mad and he would hate me. She got really serious and told me that she didn't care if he was mad or not, I needed to tell her. I told her a short summary of what happened and she hugged me and told me it wasn't my fault. I still feel like it was. I kept apologizing and by now I was sobbing. She got up, put on her jacket again and went towards the door. I asked where she was going. She said she had to cool down before she shot him. She went out the door and I went to the window to watch what she was doing and she came back and grabbed her keys off the hook again and told me she'd be back. She left and I watched her location on life 360. She went to their work (they work at the same place, different schedules). She came back a short time later and I asked what happened. She said "a lot" then her ringtone went off and she picked up and said "don't come anywhere near this house right now" so I knew it was him. Then I heard his truck and I started freaking out and I went to get up and she told me to stay inside. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in with my phone. I heard him leave but didn't hear her come back in so I checked life 360 to see that they left together so I came out of the bathroom. I watched youtube on my phone for almost an hour while watching life 360 too. I saw she was moving back toward the house so I grabbed all my belongings and ran to the bathroom again. She came back in but I could hear him too. She knocked on the door but I didn't open it until I heard her voice and I made her close the bathroom door back so I didn't see him. She told me he was in the bedroom and wasn't coming out and that I was safe to come in the living room. We stayed in the bathroom for a minute and I was still crying and she was crying to and we made jokes about it because that's how we both cope. She said that he wanted to apologize but I couldn't even look at him, I still can't. A picture of him made me cry before we left her house. He didn't think he did anything wrong except for cheating until she confronted him. She kept trying to get me to let him apologize because he didn't want me to leave when I'm feeling this way but I couldn't do it. I can't see him again. [Child] woke up and [me best friend/his wife] left her with me and went to the bedroom with him. I fixed [child] some leftovers from the night before and I ate an egg roll and a wonton. I kissed [child] goodbye and we left. As we were driving [my best friend/his wife] told me she's still thinking about leaving him and that he cried because he thought she would leave him. She said that he didn't know what he did it and that he told her he was thinking about her the whole time. Then why didn't he stop? He should have stopped. I think part of him knew I was uncomfortable. I feel like it was obvious. I never once said the word yes to him. She said he felt like his dad because I feel like this (whole other sad story about his dad). [His name] didn't feel like it was sexual assault, I do. Apparently he feels bad for that. I'm supposed to forgive him but I can't. Right now it's Tuesday the 17th and I'm still balling writing parts of this. We left with his credit card and went to Dunkin Donuts for coffee. I tried my best to act like I was okay and I think it worked. We didn't think about it for a while. We went shopping for her at a clothing store and she bought me a shirt. I know she meant well but it seems like coffee and a shirt is an ample apologizy for getting assaulted. It isn't. I tried to say his name when she took me home and I said it and hesitated and ended up just saying "him" or "he" instead. She said she's sticking by him. I have nobody on my side. I have little fits all through the day because I remember what he felt like on me and I squirm and shiver from being uncomfortable. I cry and sometimes hit something like the wall or my bed because its overwhelming. I feel like his smell is engrained in my nose. I fucking hate this. I can't even look at myself in the mirror without tearing up. I can't tell anyone. The other best friend that knows doesn't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna bring it up with [my best friend/his wife] because I feel like she just wants to forget. My parents don't know. They just know I've been cooped up in my room for almost 4 days now with very little contact. My dad would kill him if he knew what happened and I don't want my dad to go to jail. The couple (my friends) who live with us thought they did something wrong. I told them it wasn't them and they bought me chocolate and a stuffed narwhal because I've been "sad". I can't tell them what happened either. He's one of their adoptive dad. That's not fair to her. Not having anyone isn't fair to me but it isn't the first time I've had to deal with trauma alone. I'll survive. I wrote this as a journal entry to myself and I wrote it in a way it cant be traced back to me. But it's been eating me alive so I have to share it for my own sanity. I'm so fucking alone and its killing me. It will be a ago week today and I know it's early but I'm having so many mixed emotions and I don't know what to do. I've started being hypersexual and masturbating more then crying after and I don't know how to stop this can't be normal.

Last year a friend of mine invited me to his house for drinks. I thought nothing of this as it wasn’t the first time. I began to feel really drunk and went to lay down for a while. When I came back around, I realised his hands were down my shorts. I wanted to scream in that moment but no sound came out. I wanted to run away but my body wouldn’t move. I was completely paralysed. When it eventually stopped he then joked about the blood all over his hands, I was shocked and embarrassed that my dignity had been taken from me like that. For months I felt guilt and shame that it was my fault. I had panic attacks and nightmares that still persist. I found the courage to speak up one day and never looked back. I have so many people now who support me when I need it. You are not alone ♥️

I don't really know where to start . I was abused physically and emotionally, as a child by the person who was suppose to protect me .I dealt with it all along because that was the life I knew and also because I felt guilty .I was told it was my fault ... I am really confused if I was a target for him sexually . He knows Homeopathy and always used to say it was because he wanted to male sure I was doing fine. I now only realize that I was constantly sick for at least first six years of my life. I remember getting high fevers and constantly taking antibiotics .For all I was told it was because I had a weak immune system which I might have had but I realize now that it was the terror when he shouted and hit me and my other family that got me really really sick and almost making it impossible for me to recover. When I started to grow he became much sweeter but that's when he really started making me feel uncomfortable .He would just tell me he was checking my growth and that if he didn't no one else will .I didn't believe him but I had developed a fear of him so much that I let him see me whenever he asked. My first time actually realizing that what he was doing was wrong was when I woke up around midnight night(I am pretty sure if was around two) one time and felt his eyes staring at me. He was holding my leggings down and just staring , I remember the cold air rushing through my body and sweating at the same time though it was like I couldn't move ,I am not sure if I froze or I was just too scared for him to know that I was awake. After that I tried to stay away from him but I just wasn't allowed to say no .I did strayed telling him ( not very directly at the start but i did make excuses and said at least no or later every time)that I don't want to be alone with him or I wasn't comfortable showing him by body or letting him actually touch it but he just never cared and I was too scared oppose him directly because whenever someone did he would just hit everybody and the mental torture he made everyone go through was unbearable .He also told me to not tell anyone including my mother because it was a secret and that no-one else would understand (I still fell disgusted by it).I did not and don not want to be responsible for causing more torture to my family so I kept quiet .After some time it did reduced probably because my body stopped growing (almost around the age of sixteen).He uses many methods over time to make sure I never fond a way out (mostly violence like hitting and screaming and also by degrading me like even when I scored the highest marks in exams he would just tell me it was because others weren't putting in their efforts and that what I did was of no value).I am financially dependent on this person and I come from an extremely conservative family and culture so very naturally all the people I know are the same . This abuse didn't just collapse my self esteem that I still am trying to develop but it also affected a number of things that happened in my child hood like 1.When I was around four years I went to a house of my mother's friend. I was playing in the room upstairs that belonged to her daughter when her youngest son came in(a lot older then me but I am not sure about the exact age gap )and started playing games with me .They started normally with toys and he shoed me a light he had. It was some sort of a mirror with light on it .As a kid I wanted it but he said I could take it but we could play with it.(I used to get too attached to people in a very short time at that age) .He covered me with a blanket and that probably when he discovered I was afraid of dark (it might have been natural at that age but one of my childhood punishments also included being locked in a dark room while I was sitting on such I height that I couldn't get down from).He would switch on the light and then turn it off .It was like a scary play at first but then he pulled my trousers down and I just remember felling confused about what he was doing .I asked him and he just said to not tell anyone .I don't know what it was but I didn't look at him after that .At first he would on the lights whenever he pulled the trousers down and the close it when he pulled the trousers up but later he didn't turn on the light and I got a glance of him just seeing me .I never told anyone because I didn't knew what happened and because that would just mean being locked in my house for the rest of my life 2.I went to a friend's house once with my family .They are really good people and we know them from a long time .My friend had a brother an year older than us .We used to play together .That day he took whatever chance he got to just sort of hug me from behind .I didn't say anything because I thought he was just messing around until his hands started touching me inappropriately .I can tell now it was probably just the curiosity any person had in their puberty but I still don't understand why I didn't push him back .It was before I was 13 . After that I basically stopped visiting their house .Again I never told anyone. I am not a good looking person at all .In fact I am barely even an average looking person so I know its more difficult for people to believe what I say. I didn't even know a person who is so closely related to you, who is suppose to support you in life can actually do something that is NOT OK.I always thought that he did it so I could be a better person .Now that I think of what everything he did , I fell very confused and I cant help but think what I could have done differently to prevent it .I know the people around me wont believe me ,maybe I wouldn't either if it was someone lese (its just the society I live in ,its not bad ,the people are supportive but really conservative with a limited views ).I still am around this person and he hasn't really changed .I cant do anything about it .I tried to divert my mind and thoughts from the memories but it didn't help. I even tries to self inflict cuts and bruises on me but it didn't really make all that pain go away ,it just helped for a while sometimes to divert the attention .I never thought I would even want to think about what happened to me let alone share it but I am trying to fond a way to make it better ,to overcome it .I still get really scared whenever he is around (and he is around too often).I get scared when someone shouts or in any way gets angry .I want to study to make sure I can become capable enough to support myself in future if I ever get the chance to be independent but I find learning really difficult with everything happening even though I know it is the only chance i ever have of leaving this person and maybe these memories .I am struggling but I am sure that one day I will be able to accept it and move forward .I really hope I can go though this.

I was sexually assaulted by two teenagers when I was 17 and extremely intoxicated. One of the rapists was my high school best friend's brother. This story is 35 years old but needs to be told in order for me to start healing. A repressed memory came flooding back 5 years ago, after finding a photo of a trip I took with her family, the place where this assault happened. I've silently tried to process it alone, but I can't keep quiet any longer. I hope sharing my story will help others come forward and start their healing process. It's never too late! I'm finding more and more friends who have similar stories and only by sharing my story had allowed them to share theirs. I feel like it's paying it forward a little.

okay so i’m not sure if im overthinking things but i kinda just figured what cocsa is and it made me think back when i was younger. so when i was 8 or 9, there was this group of girls (all around my age as well) and they would kinda do weird things. the first time i saw them, it was my friends kissing in secret and i didn’t realize it was in a sexual way and i thought it was just friends being loving to each other. they saw me and they told me to be quiet and that i couldn’t tell anyone. i found it odd but i just went with it. anyway then they kinda “invited” me into the group and i found out it was about 5-6 other girls. these girls would all like kiss each other and touch each other but i never realized in what way and they would tell me that if i told anyone, they wouldn’t be my friend anymore so i didn’t. one time one of the girls pulled me in the bathroom and wanted to try something and told me to stay quiet so we wouldn’t get caught and she basically just made out with me and kinda touched me down there a little. another time one of these girls was my close friend and just us two had a sleepover and she was like “hey i wanna try something” so she laid me down on my back, crawled on top of me, and rubbed our “lady parts” together. i thought it was weird but she just kept telling me to not tell anyone so i never did. fast forward to now, im just now realizing how bad that was and that it wasn’t normal but im not sure if i should even hold them accountable considering they were also my age and might’ve just been repeating things they saw. so like i’m not sure if that should be considered cocsa

On Date I was sexually assaulted by a man I thought I loved. At first, I blamed myself. I thought if I reported him I would ruin his life, no realizing he had already ruined mine. My sense of safety is gone, my security is gone, my power is gone. I finally had the courage to " stand up for myself and it backfired on me. On Date 2, Name victim shamed me to my lowest point. Her words hurt me deeper than the actual assault. I felt so powerless and defenseless again! She called me a liar, because his lies sound better than my truth. She accused me of making up a story, as if she was there when he put a gun to my head! I had never first hand experienced victim blaming but this is definitely the most horrifying experience I have ever experienced.

I used to be friends with a girl who secretly hated me. One night we went out with some guys who she said were her friends. We had some alcohol and, unbeknownst to me, my drink was laced with an illegal substance. I began to feel really drunk, although I hadn't drunk that much. My friend then said she had to go home, and she did. She left me there with those guys and I crashed at one of their places. I have no memory of what happened later that night and to be honest I'm terrified I will start remembering horrible things.

Hi, i was recommended this site by my therapist...so here we go. okay. it all started when i was 9, My grandparents had moved into NC and stuff etc etc- My grandfather and I were always close. We would do stuff together like lunch, shopping, get candy all that jazz. from years 9-12 I had not realized it, but he was grooming me. He would always tell me things like how special i was to him and how he would buy me things he wouldn't buy my brother or my cousins. It would always happen whenever i would spend the night at my grandparents house. Now my mother had really awful breast cancer at the time, so my dad had to stay by her side and support her in the hospital from time to time and since my brother was too young to babysit me (hes 4 years older by the way) I had to spend the night there. I also suffered from horrid night terrors that kept me awake at night and made me deathly afraid of being alone or in the dark. Sooo, i would share the bed with both my grandparents. You can probably tell where this is going, It was always in bed too. He would touch me around my stomach, chest, more details parts that i wont mention, my pants area etc... I never thought too much of it, Always reassuring myself that it wasnt anything malevolent...no matter how weird or unusual it was. It eventually stopped around when i was 12, when my mom finished chemotherapy and beat her cancer. i was staying at their place less and less. But he would often throw provocative comments my way about my body, such as my chest, my butt- you get it. the comments stopped at 14 when i stood up for myself. he asked me, "Oh dont tell me you dont like play with yourself of please yourself. everyone does it, i just wanna know if you do it." I told him it was gross to ask that, and he scoffed- but he stopped. not too long later that year i was thinking about everything while sitting in my room. Then it hit me. Everything he did, everything he said, was because he was grooming me. I had thrown up that evening, as if my stomach got clubbed by a sledgehammer. It had been maybe 2 or so years since ive come out about what happened. No justice has been served yet, if any at all. My grandparents blame me and my parents for tearing our family apart. I often blame myself too. But I hope and pray to any god out there that he gets exactly what he deserves, in this life or the next.

Victim Impact Statement I am sharing this victim impact statement in English because I want my real words to be heard. During the trial, I didn’t have the opportunity to fully express the depth of how this has affected my life. These are my words, my truth, and my experience. I hope they will be considered with the seriousness they deserve. I have translated it with AI but I feel like words are more powerful in my native language. Estoy compartiendo esta declaración de impacto como víctima en inglés porque quiero que se escuchen mis palabras reales. Durante el juicio, no tuve la oportunidad de expresar plenamente la profundidad de cómo esto ha afectado mi vida. Estas son mis palabras, mi verdad y mi experiencia. Espero que sean consideradas con la seriedad que merecen. Voy a traducirlo al español y lo incluiré también (con IA), pero las palabras no serán las mismas. Como siempre en mi caso. Here’s where we begin: My life has been utterly destroyed since Month Day, Year. I have had to miss work at the job I love, and it has taken a toll on my relationships with my friends and family. I have developed PTSD. My depression has worsened. My anxiety has become unbearable. My mind is like a mirror with a crack running through it—each side reflects a version of me, but the pieces don’t quite fit, and the fracture distorts what’s real. Deep down, I KNOW it was not my fault because I said no. Twice. Yet, on the surface, I feel at fault because I went there. But I said no. Twice. I’ve been on strong medications for my mental health. I am a shell of the person I once was. It’s affecting my work because I can’t sleep. I have had to miss days because I self harmed. I’ve been overwhelmed with stress about the trial. I can’t get over the fact that I feel it was my fault. I am scared to be alone. I am scared to go outside alone. I am terrified of men on the street. I don’t trust people easily. When I can sleep, I have nightmares where I wake up screaming, crying, and inconsolable. Honestly, I can’t be alone. I spiral into anxiety and obsessive thoughts when I am. The harassment and seeking justice has become an obsession, but when I spiral, I turn to self-harm. Since the assault, I’ve had to go to the hospital at least eight times for self-harm. I have gotten more than 50 stitches in my left arm. It looks like I’ve been attacked by a tiger. During the trial, I believe I had 25 stitches. Since the juicio, I called an ambulance and admitted myself to the psychiatric ward at La Princesa on Month, Day. The day after I voluntarily left because I was terrified, I went back to the hospital for self-harm on Month, Day. Why do I do it? Because it’s like the broken mirror I look into the half where I feel it was my fault. Since I received the sentencia, I have been in a horrible state. I haven’t been able to sleep, eat, or do anything. I cannot be alone because I fear I might hurt myself, again.The trial only confirmed the feeling that my sexual assault was my fault. It destroyed the progress I had made in therapy. I feel failed by the system. I understand there were doubts, but I believe I have been denied a fair trial due to linguistic barriers and the misapplication of Ley Orgánica 10/2022, de garantía integral de la libertad sexual (“Solo Sí es Sí”). This law is clear in stating that consent must be affirmative, clear, and continuous. According to Article 178.1 of the Spanish Penal Code, modified by this law: “Solo se entenderá que hay consentimiento cuando se haya manifestado libremente mediante actos que, en atención a las circunstancias del caso, expresen de manera clara la voluntad de la persona.” My understanding is that consent is only understood to exist when it has been freely expressed through acts that, considering the circumstances of the case, clearly express the person’s will. I said NO. Twice. There was no affirmative consent. The absence of continued, explicit consent should have been enough. The court seemed to focus on perceived doubts in my memory and inconsistencies rather than the absence of my consent. This is a violation of the very principles of the “Solo Sí es Sí” law, which centers the lack of affirmative consent as the key factor—not the victim’s behavior, not emotional reactions, not the aftermath. I know my truth: I was raped. I said no. Twice. Now I have to face my life, living with mental and physical scars that remind me of November 18, 2022— without justice. Declaración de Impacto de la Víctima (en castellano) Aquí es donde comienza todo: Mi vida ha sido completamente destruida desde el Day Month, Year. He tenido que faltar al trabajo que amo, y esto ha afectado mis relaciones con amigos y familia. He desarrollado TEPT (trastorno de estrés postraumático). Mi depresión ha empeorado. Mi ansiedad se ha vuelto insoportable. Mi mente es como un espejo con una grieta que lo atraviesa: cada lado refleja una versión de mí, pero las piezas no encajan del todo, y la fractura distorsiona lo que es real. En lo más profundo, SÉ que no fue mi culpa porque dije que no. Dos veces. Sin embargo, en la superficie, me siento culpable por haber ido allí. Pero dije que no. Dos veces. He estado tomando medicamentos muy fuertes para mi salud mental. A veces soy solo una sombra de la persona que solía ser. Está afectando mi trabajo porque no puedo dormir. He tenido que faltar algunos días porque me autolesiono. Me siento abrumada por el estrés relacionado con el juicio. No puedo superar la sensación de que fue mi culpa. Tengo miedo de estar sola. Tengo miedo de salir sola. Me aterran los hombres en la calle. No confío fácilmente en la gente. Cuando puedo dormir, tengo pesadillas en las que me despierto gritando, llorando e inconsolable. Honestamente, no puedo estar sola. Entro en espirales de ansiedad y pensamientos obsesivos cuando lo estoy. La angustia y la búsqueda de justicia se han convertido en una obsesión, pero cuando entro en ese espiral, recurro a la autolesión. Desde la agresión, he tenido que ir al hospital al menos ocho veces por autolesiones. Me han puesto más de 50 puntos de sutura en el brazo izquierdo. Parece que me ha atacado un tigre. Durante el juicio, creo que tenía 25 puntos de sutura. Desde el juicio, llamé a una ambulancia y me ingresé voluntariamente en la unidad psiquiátrica de La Princesa el Day of Month. Al día siguiente, me fui voluntariamente porque estaba aterrada. El Day of Month volví al hospital por autolesiones. ¿Por qué lo hago? Porque es como el espejo roto en el que me miro: en la mitad donde siento que fue mi culpa. Desde que recibí la sentencia, he estado en un estado horrible. No he podido dormir, comer ni hacer nada. No puedo estar sola porque temo que pueda hacerme daño otra vez. El juicio solo confirmó la sensación de que mi agresión sexual fue mi culpa. Destruyó el progreso que había logrado en terapia. Me siento defraudada por el sistema. Entiendo que hubiera dudas, pero creo que se me ha negado un juicio justo debido a barreras lingüísticas y a la mala aplicación de la Ley Orgánica 10/2022, de garantía integral de la libertad sexual (“Solo Sí es Sí”). Esta ley es clara al establecer que el consentimiento debe ser afirmativo, claro y continuo. Según el artículo 178.1 del Código Penal español, modificado por esta ley: “Solo se entenderá que hay consentimiento cuando se haya manifestado libremente mediante actos que, en atención a las circunstancias del caso, expresen de manera clara la voluntad de la persona. ” Según mi comprensión, el consentimiento solo se entiende que existe cuando ha sido expresado libremente mediante actos que, considerando las circunstancias del caso, expresan claramente la voluntad de la persona. Dije NO. Dos veces. No hubo consentimiento afirmativo. La ausencia de un consentimiento explícito y continuo debería haber sido suficiente. El tribunal pareció centrarse en las supuestas dudas sobre mi memoria y en inconsistencias, en lugar de en la ausencia de mi consentimiento. Esto es una violación de los principios fundamentales de la ley “Solo Sí es Sí” , que se centra en la falta de consentimiento afirmativo como el factor clave—no en el comportamiento de la víctima, ni en sus reacciones emocionales, ni en lo que sucedió después. Sé mi verdad: fui violada. Dije no. Dos veces. Ahora tengo que enfrentar mi vida, viviendo do con cicatrices mentales y físicas que me recuerdan el Day Month, Year— sin justicia.

I was in a relationship when I was 15. He was older than me. He pressured me to do things I didn’t want to. One day he pushed me against a wall after I told him I had to go home and he started to take of my pants and do things to me while I tried get out of there. Unfortunately he was much (physically) stronger than me. He would also hurt me physically. He choked me once (not in a sexual way, he actually wanted to hurt me)

i had/have some healing to do. my worth was tied to my supposed purity, my body was used for male consumption and pleasure, my experience was minimized, my pain was ignored, my human emotions were neglected. so where do i even begin? i needed some honest conversations with god because i was fucking angry-- livid! and i was tired of people telling me some church cliches like that's gonna make me be like, “oh, you right, it was just a lil rape... god is good, all the time!” like, nah bruh, i was hurting and i had every right to be hurt. what happened is trash and someone telling me to find joy in my suffering is not helpful when i'm traumatized. what has helped me, is being able to acknowledge my feelings and write about them. it doesn’t mean the truth of who god is doesn’t exist, but it also doesn’t mean that you won’t feel forgotten, scared, frustrated angry, confused, and it doesn’t mean that as a christian, you’re required to immediately put a positive spin on your suffering. so, with that in heart and mind, i can write a poem about being objectified, about being pissed at the man that raped me, or about being confused about how my relationship with god is supposed to look after such a mess, ‘cause keeping my feelings hidden is not helpful and it does me no good. so, i’m telling you, black woman who is learning to shake off the damaging roles we were forced into: f politeness, you’re not wrong, you’re not being sinful -- kick, and scream and assert your humanity. survivor

i was around 4 or 5 i think and my cousin brother 6 or 7 he used to tell me he loved me alot and wanted to be with me forever and he told me he had only one of showing me he loved me and told me to lift my shirt up he hid me in a corner of the room made me lay down and started licking my stomach i felt very disgusted so i pushed him away and left after that i dont know if i told anyone or not but for the next 10 years he continued to mentally and physically harass me with sexual stuff showing me and talking to me about pron and positions forcing to use some trick on me if i didnt comply to his demands and also sometimes all of a sudden touching me very inappropriately out of nowhere now we're 17 and 18 and for the past 2 years he has one nothing like that ever since he got a girlfriend but i remember him mumbling something about me being one of his ex girlfreinds as if that could ever have been true its been quite long ofcourse now but it still disturbs me alot sometimes and our families are not on good terms with eachother due the some other reason i dont know what to do