Anonymous Story: Abusive Relationship

Anonymous Story: Abusive Relationship

The actual physical rape is a very small section of my story, and I need to tell my story , the whole thing, not just the rape. Everything that came with it.

I come from a very religious community, so I didn’t have much interaction with boys growing up. When I was 14 years old, I joined a youth movement, but I was hated by the boys there. I know that because they were kind enough to notify me that they I disgust them. I felt so lonely, and was dying for someone to love me.

Then when I turned sixteen, finally I met a guy who was into me. We would text each other dozens of times a day. He was really charming, and made me feel so good about myself. It was a breath of fresh air. Within a month we started dating. So far, so good. I was so happy. I had a boyfriend, someone who loved me. It was because of said feelings of happiness, that it was so easy for me to overlook his growing abusive tendencies.

At first he would make these horrible little comments meant to put me down- your hair looks really bad in a ponytail (it really doesn’t by the way, but it took me three years to feel comfortable enough to do a ponytail), there is no way you will actually manage AP math all the way through high school (I did, and I got an A), your taste in music sucks etc. He always had something negative and so hurtful to say, and he would say it just to be mean.

Looking back, I think he wanted me to feel worthless on one hand, but on the other hand that I had a chance to lead a happy life with him, but without him this would be impossible. Basically, without him I would be doomed. This made me feel like I had no choice but to keep calm, and do as he pleases, or else, I reasoned, I’d be lonely forever.

After a month of us dating he would suddenly, shun me completely, for no apparent reason, when we would be out together. He would stop talking to me, and glare at me in hate. I was so scared! Terrified he’d dump me. I didn’t want to fight with him, so I’d try to apologize. I’d have to quickly think what I’ve done to offend him, and say how sorry I was. When he deemed me worthy of his attention after it seemed that I humiliated myself enough, he would start insulting me, my parents, my brothers, my friends criticizing them and cursing them. We never fought, he would tell me I’m worthless, and crush me and what was left of my pride. To clarify, he would take offence at things like me needing to leave early so I could make it home before my curfew, sending him a text wishing him good luck on an important exam, not wanting to make out. He would call me a fucking asshole (or something equally original) for such dishonorable crimes.

I hate myself for staying with him. More than words can describe. I can rationalize it, I was sixteen, and it was the first time a guy liked me. As horrible as he was at times, he knew how to be charming as hell. He would say he loves me more than anything, that I was beautiful and would insist I’m perfect. It was like dating Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I was terrified of him, but terrified of being without him. But despite these excuses I tell myself, I can’t understand it, why didn’t I leave him.

Then once, I had an excuse to be out for the night, and we spent the night together. At one point he started touching my chest. As I’ve mentioned, I come from a very religious community, where it is not accepted for girls and boys to even make out after the age of twelve before marriage. So you can imagine how mortifying it was for me to be touched like that. I was too scared to say I didn’t like it. Then he demanded I give him a handjob. Then take off my top. I could have said no. I tried to, but that glare. It scared me. It was a sacrifice I figured was worth taking, to keep this relationship.

Again, I feel compelled to remind the patient reader that I felt lucky to be loved by someone, anyone, I didn’t think I had a chance that someone else would want me. He made me feel like I was lucky that I’m with him because I’m so horrible that there isn’t a person in the world but him that could even like me.

So I counted my blessings and did as he wished.

The one thing I insisted on was that I wanted to save my virginity for marriage, so other than that he felt ok doing anything to me. I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t tell anyone because I would be marked as a slut, kicked out of school, my parents would never understand, I’d lose the majority of my friends. It’s hard to get the feeling it’s like to be in my community if you’re an outsider, so you’ll have to believe me that if word got out I was in any way sexually active, I would be kicked out of the community. Besides the fear of being discovered, I was disgusted with myself. I saw myself as a good girl and couldn’t believe I was capable of such behavior. Needless to say, I did not enjoy these interactions one little bit, he was not gentle at all, or understanding. But I had to pretend I was enjoying it. If I wasn’t doing a good job pretending he would go into a rage. It was necessary for me to volunteer myself sometimes, I wanted to want it, because I knew that it would please him if I wanted it.

He started compelling me to do things even if I was crying, or after I’d say no a lot of times, even push him away. I say compelling, because he wouldn’t use physical force, just that terrifying glare. He managed to systematically separate me from my friends and family, so I had nowhere to go. My friends hated me, my parents angry at me. I was alone in the world, I had no one but him. If I would make him angry, and he would dump me, I’d have no one in the world. I was totally dependent on him.

One day, I came over to his house, his parents were on holiday, for a “romantic evening” I was supposed to sleep at a friends afterwards. He told me I’ll make it for sure, but he was taking his time, so I had to lie to my friend and say I missed the last bus and won’t be coming over. Then he started giving me drinks. I never drank before, and didn’t fully understand the effect of alcohol. For some stupid reason, I trusted him not to get me drunk. He poured drink after drink. I started feeling really sick and tired. He took me up to his room. I was seeing double, and feeling like I was going to throw up. I lay down in his bed trying to go to sleep. He showed me porn and started talking about personal things. He said he’s telling me those things because I’m drunk. I was starting to feel better. He showed me more porn. Asked me if we could have sex. I said NO. NO. NO. He said ok. Then he turned me over. He put cream on his hands. I was too shocked. I didn’t think he would actually do it. I trusted him. He put some cream on me, and before I knew it, there was a sharp pain. I cried, tears spilling down my cheek. Then it was over. I don’t know how long it was.

I was in pain for the next few days. It took me a while, but I decided that I do not want any more sexual interaction with him.

After we’ve been dating for seven months, he dumped me. He called my friend (my phone was dead) and asked to speak to me. He told me something about him wanting to be in a relationship with sex.

The worst part of it all is that I begged that scumbag to take me back.

I thought- he reduced me to thinking- that I was nothing more than a used person, and no one will want me again. I was willing to do anything to get back together, because I knew that I will be alone for the rest of my life. I felt like a broken piece of trash no one will even look at.

Three years went by, and I’m almost a new person. I fixed the relationship with my parents, made a few very close girl-friends.

But he still haunts my life. I still feel like no one will ever like me, and I fear being alone for the rest of my life. I don’t have any guy friends. I’m scared to get into a relationship again. I want to leave this all behind me, but I can’t get it out of my mind. I hate myself for not being able to let go, but I can’t. I hate him, I hate me, I hate the fact I know he raped someone else.

I wish I could move on. Get into a healthy relationship, and wash his filth off of me.

I never told anyone, but now I’m ready to share

Thank you for letting me share

 

Author

WYR

WYR

When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.

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