Brittany’s Story: Front Page of the Newspaper Allowed Him to Take Every thing

Brittany’s Story: Front Page of the Newspaper Allowed Him to Take Every thing

It was February 4th, 2007, Superbowl Sunday. I was working at Papa Murphy’s, a job that I had only had a month. We were so slammed that my boss asked me to work two hours of overtime. I called up the children’s home where I lived and asked the staff for permission. They granted it which made my boss really happy. At the end of my shift I clocked out then asked my boss to use the phone to call for a ride. He told me to walk across the parking lot out back and use the movie theater’s phone. As I headed out he told me to take the trash out as well. So I grabbed the couple bags of trash, zipped up my jacket, then went out the back door.
I waited for a car to pass as I tried to fight off the cold. Once the car passed I hauled the trash over to the dumpster. Chucking one bag in at a time, I argued with myself on whether to walk or jog to the theater. I lifted the last bag into the dumpster as I decided to jog to the theater. As I took a few steps forward a hand came up behind me and covered my mouth.
“Scream or fight me in any way and I will kill you.” A man said as I felt the sharp tip of a knife against my spine. I was drug a few feet then shoved face first into the backseat of a car. I was shaking so bad that I didn’t think I would be able to move even if I wanted too. Tears filled my eyes as I heard doors close and the rumble of the engine starting.
“I mean it.” The man said. “You fucking try anything and I will fucking end your life.”
I couldn’t say a word. I didn’t try to. I laid quietly with my face buried in the floorboard of the backseat praying for God to help me.
Was this really happening? Was this man going to kill me? Fear drove every horrible scenario to run through my head. Every one of them ended with me dying. That conclusion filled me with grief as I kept going over the last few hours in my head. I started blaming myself for what was happening. Why didn’t I notice that that car had stopped after it had passed me? Why hadn’t I heard his footsteps? Why didn’t I argue with my boss about using the store phone?
The car came to a stop. I listened as he took the keys out of the ignition, opened his door, then opened my door. He grabbed my hair, and pulled me up off the floorboard. He held the knife to my throat.
“I’m going to fuck you.” The man had a spanish accent. His breath smelt like old coffee and spearmint gum. “I swear to God I’m not going to hurt you if you behave. But if you even think of trying anything funny, I will fucking slice you up, and leave you to die.” He pressed the blade against my throat. “Do we have an understanding bitch?”
I nodded the best I could. He pushed me back down into the seat. He laughed as he pulled my pants down.
“I’m going to give you an experience you’ll never forget.” He said as he unzipped his pants. “You’re so lucky I found you.”
I felt his tongue go inside me. I could hear the sucking noises he was making. The roughness of his face scratched my butt cheeks. I felt his face pull away as his fingers entered me. He started laughing when I pissed all over his hand. As embarrassed as I felt, I had hoped this would deter him from any further action.
“Getting a head of ourselves aren’t we?!” He laughed as you felt him wipe away the piss. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him. I felt the tip of his penis against my vagina.
“Pl-pl-please do-do-don’t.” I begged. Later I would find myself mad that I was able to speak but not able to fight.
“You don’t want me to fuck you?!” The man asked.
“N-no.” I said.
“I guess since you asked so nicely than I won’t.” He said sarcastically.
I felt him move away as his hands tightened on my hips. He violently rammed himself into me. I cried out in pain which caused him to laugh. I felt him move his hips around as he tried to see if he could get any deeper. The pain was horrible. I wanted to sob but I feared what he would do if I did.
“I love that sound.” He said. He started to thrust. I stared at the back of the seat the whole time, praying for it to end. It felt like I was being torn apart. The searing pain was met with a warm sensation. I felt like I had to piss again as I felt him cum inside of me. After a about 10 seconds, he pulled out.
“Close your fucking eyes.” He pulled me onto my feet. He pulled my pants up then shoved me back into the car. I listened as the doors closed. He stuck the keys in the ignition and started the car.
‘It’s over.’ I kept saying to myself as the car started moving. The car continued moving as I started to think about what was going to happen next. Was he going to drop me off somewhere? Was he going to kill me? Was he going to hide me in a basement somewhere and keep me as a slave?
The car stopped but he didn’t shut off the engine. I heard his door open then I heard mine open. This was the moment of truth, I thought. He was either going to kill me or let me live. In this moment I hoped my fight or flight response would’ve kicked in, but I was unable to get control of my body.
“Close your fucking eyes and keep them closed or I will cut your fucking throat open.” He said as he put the knife up to my throat. “Are they closed?”
I nodded. He took me by the hair and pulled me out of the car. He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me away from the car. He pushed on my back enough to make me take a few steps forward. I felt him put his face against my head. I got an uneasy feeling as he smelt my hair.
“Nothing better than popping fucking cherries.” He said softly. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck you in the ass. It’ll make our time in the park more enjoyable. Hopefully the next time we do this, you’ll have that sexy JROTC uniform on. Oh the things I want to do to you will blow your mind.”
I wanted to hurl as he said every word as if this was a casual agreement between the two of us. I listened to the door close. I wasn’t opening my eyes. I listened to the car drive off then I listened to the silence, waiting to see if he had really left. When I opened my eyes I was at the children’s home where I lived.
Painfully I made my way to the front door. I rang the doorbell then nervously waited for a staff member to let me in. Once I was in the building, hearing the door close and lock behind me brought me a bit of relief. I made my way up to the girls dorm. The high schoolers were still awake. The staff member tried making small talk with me but I was very short and brief.
I headed into the high schoolers dorm bedroom, grabbed some clothes, a pad, and a towel. I headed into the bathroom to shower. I felt disgusting. The warm icky goo that had been running down my thighs was now starting to become sticky. I started taking off my clothes as I let the water warm up. I started to quietly freak out as I saw the blood covering my thighs and the inside of my pants and underwear. I covered the inside of my pants up then got into the shower.
I thought I was never going to get the blood to disappear. After 20 minutes I got out of the shower. I dried off, put on my underwear along with the pad, then finished getting dressed. I wrapped my clothes in my towel, throwing them into my laundry basket. I went to the staff member and asked her for Tylenol. I told her I had a headache when in reality the pain in my vagina seemed to be getting worse.
I didn’t sleep much at all that night. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the blood. The times I did manage to fall asleep the whole event played through my head. Exhausted and numb, I went to school the next day not able to focus on anything other than just getting through the day. After study hall, I went upstairs. That evening I attended my church then returned home. As I walked into our dorm the feeling of brokenness and shame came over me causing me to fall to my knees next to my bed.
The next few days the staff were trying to figure out what was wrong with me while trying to comfort me. Everyone noticed a change in me. The normal positive, energetic BAF was standoffish and at times a mess. I couldn’t get what happened out of my head. The pain was better but it still hadn’t gone away. I didn’t know what to do about what had happened. And if I spoke up, I was terrified that no one would believe me, or that I would be judged.
I was the oldest kid in the home who also had the best record with the level system. I had been at the home for 7 months. I was a senior in high school and the face of our school’s homeless program. People already had this perception that I was a bad kid because I had gone from foster care to homeless to a children’s home and being 17 it made things worse.
I also felt so ashamed that I was no longer a virgin. If I was ashamed of what happened then God must have been too. This caused me to struggle with my faith and with who I was.
It had been almost a week. The little girls had gone to bed so I was watching tv in their tv room. I had been flipping through the channels when I stopped on the USA network. I had no idea what SVU was but I decided it was the only thing that looked any good that was on. I remember hearing Detective Benson telling someone that what had happened wasn’t their fault, that the person was not alone and that they were a survivor. I remember sobbing as I felt relief flood over me. Some part of me felt like I could breathe.
A few weeks later I went to the police. The officer I got was one that all the school kids knew. I was happy because I figured he would make all this easier. He didn’t, he made it worse. His questioning made me feel like he had already decided that I was having remorse over a one night stand. As he continued to question me about things I felt more and more to blame as it felt like he was blaming me. When he asked me how this person knew all this information about me, the only thing I could offer up was the news paper article that had me on Sunday’s front page sitting at the home in my JROTC uniform. The article had told about where I lived, the homeless program at my high school, and personal information about me and other students in the program.
The officer ignored my random sobs the whole time he was there. He asked me if I had any proof that what I said had happened happened. I had washed my clothes, I wasn’t bleeding any more, and I had showered plenty since then. He laughed as he got into his cruiser. He told me there was nothing he could do, that next time I should be sure that I want to sleep with someone beforehand, that I wasted his time. He didn’t offer to take me to the hospital or anything. He blamed me which left me shattered.
That fall I started classes at a christian college across state. My freshman year there were moments where I felt like someone was watching me or following me. My sophomore year I had the same feeling except there were a few times I knew for sure I was being followed. The summer between my sophomore and junior years I went to the director of a christian camp I had gone to for years. She had talked about sexual assault and we had a pretty good relationship so I went to her about what had happened to me when I was 17. She worked at home for survivors of sexual assault who were pregnant. It helped to talk to her.
Winter time came. We had wrapped up our Chorale and Gospel Choir tours and everyone was getting ready for finals. After a long day of studying and tests, I went to the town park to watch the sunset like I often did. I was walking along towards my car when I was grabbed from behind.
“Try anything and I will fucking gut you!” I recognized the voice. It was him. My body started trembling. He guided me over to his car, shoving me once again in the back seat. I heard doors close, then I felt the car take off. It only moved for a minute or two.
“Now we have some fucking privacy.” He got out, opened my door, pulled my pants down, then groaned. “Did you miss me? Cuz I missed you!” He shoved his penis into my vagina and started thrusting as hard as he could. I thought I was going to hurl in the back seat as he was pounding into me. A few minutes later he came inside me.
“I think next time I will definitely ride that sweet ass.” I gasped as he smacked my ass. He laughed. He told me to close my eyes as he pulled me to my feet. He pulled my pants up then guided me five or six feet. I listened to him drive away. It took me 10 minutes to walk back to my car. I had been watching a lot of SVU and knew what to do. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake the second time.
After I called the police I uncomfortably sat in my car waiting for them. It took them half an hour to respond. I was pretty sure by that point that any bodily fluids were seeping through my pants onto my seat. I walked the officer through everything that happened. I followed him to the hospital. I waited 45 minutes before being seen by anyone. The officer asked for my student id as I followed a nurse into a room.
The nurse was starting the exam when the officer came back in. He told me that unless I was going to pay for this exam that I needed to get dressed and head back to my campus. He didn’t offer an explanation. I looked at the nurse who looked just as shocked as me. She let me clean myself up before I left.
I stayed in town during Christmas break at a friends house. One night just after Christmas I had gone out to get food. I went up the steps and unlocked the door. I felt a hand press against my back and push me into the apartment. I tried fighting but it was useless. He subdued me as he drug me to the bed. I begged him not to do this. He just laughed.
“One thing I love about you is that you never wear all that girly shit. The fucking dresses, skirts, and not to mention that fucking makeup that they pound onto their faces. No. You prefer jeans and a t-shirt. I fucking love the tomboy look.” His hands spread my butt cheeks. I let out a loud sob as he inserted his penis into my ass. He laughed. He was slow this time. “You’re definitely a fucking bleeder, aren’t you slut?!” I bit my lip as I tried to keep myself together. He came in my ass. It was an awful feeling.
He walked out of the room. I curled up and cried. Why was he doing this? I felt so disgusting. If I could get a glimpse of his face, I could describe it to the cops. I waited for him to come back into the room. Any light that I would’ve had to see him he made sure was out.
“Close your mother fucking eyes!” I did as I was told. He pushed me onto my back. I heard him unscrew a lid. Liquid started splashing onto my face then down my body. Tequila. He was dumping alcohol on me. He laughed. “I’m really enjoying this. I’ll see you again real fucking soon!”
I tried to get a glimpse of his face but the alcohol burned my eyes. As I tried to dry my face, I got up to look for my phone. I called the police. Half an hour later there was a knock on the door. I slowly opened the door. I was shaking so bad I could barely walk. The officer from the park walked in. He rolled his eyes when he saw me.
“It smells like a bar in here. Have you been drinking?” He looked around the room as I tried to explain to him what had happened. He told me that I needed to sleep it off. Again I felt like I was at fault.
The next time the man showed up he had another guy with him. They laughed as they took turns, bragging about how right the original man was.
By February of 2010 I was freaking out because I had missed my period. I went to my R.D.’s to talk to them. They told me to take a pregnancy test. I did. Three of them read positive that I was pregnant. The campus counselor called me into her office in March. My R.D. and the Vice President were there. I was given the choice to either get an abortion or to drop out. I was told that being a single female student who was pregnant and living on campus made the school look bad.
I couldn’t believe that a christian college was asking this of me. Turned out that they weren’t going to let me continue to attend the school either way. I dropped out. I reached out to friends to find a place to stay that hopefully these men wouldn’t find me at. A friend from camp said I could stay with her. When her mom called to ask about what had happened they told her that I had been sleeping around and wouldn’t cooperate with them or the police.
The next day I started receiving messages from camp and church friends. That’s when I discovered what the school had told my friend. People were bashing me, telling me I was going to go to hell. I moved off campus that day going back to my friends apartment til I could figure something out. One of the girls from college offered to let me stay with her family for a few months.
In the week it took to get my stuff packed and get enough money for the trip, I was raped again. I went down to Arkansas. I was trying hard to get a job down there. After two months, I was booted to the street. With what I had left I drove down to Louisiana for two weeks. I had no where else to go other than back to Missouri. I got 4 hours into my trip back when I stopped at a highway rest stop to use the bathroom. I was in the stall finishing my business when I heard people walk in. I always get nervous at public bathrooms because I get mistaken for a guy quite often.
“There you fucking are!! You are one tough bitch to track down.” I recognized his voice instantly. There was no escape for me. “We heard you are pregnant. We thought we’d see if that was true or not.”
I lifted my feet up off the floor and tried to hide out of sight. How did they find me? Surely they haven’t been following me this whole time. Then I realized that I had my phone on me. If I did it just right, I could get a picture of their faces. Then I thought, hell, I’ll just record the whole thing; then the police would have to believe me. As they kept talking, I quietly pulled out my phone. I went to hit record when I was pulled up off the seat by my hair.
My head hit the stall wall. I dropped my phone as I slipped off the toilet. I started screaming. There had to be someone who was going to hear me. Within a few seconds one of them had crawled into the stall. He held a hand over my face as he pushed me against the wall.
“Shut the fuck up!” The man said. He covered my mouth then he lifted my shirt. “You’ve gained some weight. Are you fucking pregnant?” I tried shaking my head. “I don’t fucking believe you.” He punched me in the back. He unlocked the stall door. He covered my face with his hand.
The door opened as the other man entered. Tears were falling down my face. I cringed when one of them licked the tears off my face.
“So fucking tasteful. I love the fucking taste of fear.” One of them punched me in the side. I curled up as much as they would allow in pain. The punches kept coming. They laughed about it. It got to a point where I was having trouble breathing. They stopped moments after that.
“We’re not going to kill you.” One said. “You can’t have a baby. I’ve been doing this way before I met you and there is no fucking way I’m going to allow you to fuck this up. I know damn well you can go to the police and they can link the dna to us.”
“If you’re still pregnant in a few weeks, we’ll take care of it by another means.” The other one said. They shoved me in a corner and told me to wait there for five minutes. They walked out of the the bathroom. I decided that I was going to still try to get a photo. When I tried moving I felt immense pain in my abdomen. I looked around for my phone. It was gone. I sat there in the stall hoping someone else would come in. I ended up having a miscarriage that day.
I made it back to my hometown the next day. Two months passed. I was at home one night and there was a crash in my bedroom. My dog was barking up a storm from the back yard. I went to let her in but didn’t get far. Something covered my face then pulled me backwards. Within a minute I was bound and gagged. It was them again. They spent the night raping and beating me. I don’t remember much about it other than that I know I was praying for it to end.
That night ended and time passed. I was sitting on my futon in my bedroom with my laptop on my lap as tears rolled down my face. I had reached out to anyone I could for help. I held a gun in my shaking hand. I was begging and pleading with God to forgive me. To save me. The hurt was too much and I wanted it to end. I didn’t see any value in my life especially if they were going to keep coming after me. I started to put the gun to my head when the song How He Loves Us started playing. I broke down.
Two years later I was out enjoying myself when someone started following me. I made it home but I was terrified to leave again for a while.
It’s now 2018. There’s been times throughout the last few years where someone has tried to break into my house at night, there’s been times when I was followed, but I haven’t been attacked again. I’ve been struggling with things the last few weeks. I’ve been asking myself if I should try reporting these things again to the police or if it is far too late. Most days I feel alright living alone, working alone, being out in society, but there are those rare times when I’m scared to do any of that. I don’t let my fear control me for the most part. Now I’m sharing my story to hopefully help others. Each day is a battle. Some days it absolutely breaks me while other days I feel like I can take on the world. I’m working on becoming involved with an organization to help make sure that my story doesn’t become someone else’s.

Author

WYR

WYR

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

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