Christopher’s story: Powerless

Christopher’s story: Powerless

This is a story that will forever haunt me every time I look back on it… Telling people was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My current girlfriend, who knows about it, suggested that I posted about it anonymously, so I’m going to give it a try.
I was in my second year of medical school and I was flying up from South Carolina to New York see my sister, who I have always been very close to. She is a couple years younger than me and she had moved away from home to go to a private dancing school. She had met a guy in her class and after dating for a year, the two were engaged and already living together. I arrived late at night and my sister left to pick up our younger sister fro, the airport, leaving me alone in the apartment with her boyfriend. We had met before and I already kind of disliked him. I never liked the way he treated my sister, but they really loved each other and I was happy for her.
I was about to just go to bed when he emerged from the bedroom wearing only his underwear, and I immediately felt unsettled. I remember him striding over to me very quickly and all of the sudden just stroking my arms. I was really weirded out and I began to move away, but that’s when he just grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the wall over my head. I kept telling him to stop, that it was wrong and he was with my sister. As he took my shirt off, he stated that we were just having some fun and she didn’t have to know. At that point, my eyes had begun to water and I was finding it hard to process what was happening. He eventually managed to get my pants off, too. The tears finally escaped my eyes when he reached into my underwear and touched me for the first time. Against my will, I became erect, which made him think I wanted it. He walked me over to the living room and sat down on the couch. In that moment, I felt like I could’ve just bolted away or slapped him or something, but I did nothing and it made me feel disgusted with myself.
He gripped my waist and brought me down so I was sitting in his lap. I remember just repeatedly whispering “No, no…” But he kept trying to explain to me that it would feel good. He kept touching me and touching himself as well, while I sat there trembling in the arms of my abuser. I knew I didn’t want it, so why wasn’t I stopping him? I began to feel numb as he spit into his hand, and all I could imagine was what kind of havoc this would cause once it was over and if anyone, especially my sisters, found out. What if they came home? Where even were they?
He finally managed to lift me up and bring me down onto him. At first all I felt was pressure in my lower abdomen, but as soon as the top passed my sphincter, a sharp pain jabbed me in the inside. I screamed out loud and squeezed his shoulders as he repeated the motion yet again. He exclaimed that he had been waiting too long for this moment. I wanted to throw up on him, especially when I noticed that a single stream of blood was seeping down onto his thighs.
I don’t remember how long it lasted. I only remember sobbing onto his shoulder and him hissing things into my ear, telling me I was his and that it would stop hurting eventually.
It never stopped hurting. Eventually, he finished inside of me as I pressed my forehead against his. I felt like I had left my body and was watching myself being taken advantage of from the other side of them. I was eighteen, but in that moment I felt like a small child, one hundred percent powerless as he held me captive in his lap. My voice came out high and scared, like a wounded animal. I wanted to die in that moment.

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. My sisters came back and we all ate dinner. I made random conversation with them, but refused to even look my sister’s fianc√© in the eye. I was humiliated, more than anything. Humiliated that I let him do what he did to me. We didn’t say a word to each other up until he night before I had to fly back to South Carolina. I was laying awake in the guest bedroom, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Was I evil for letting it happen? For not telling my sister right away? For letting him cheat on his soon to be wife? I heard faint footsteps in the hallway headed towards my room. In he strode, fully naked and glistening with moisture from having just showered. I turned onto my side and faced away from him, refusing to talk to him at all. I thought he would leave, but he got into the bed with me and began kissing my neck from behind me. Already, he was growing firm against me, and I started to shake and cry. He turned me onto my stomach and as I tried to squirm away, he promptly yanked me back in front of him. He was a dancer, much stronger than I was. He clapped a hand over my mouth before I could scream, knowing that the others were sleeping across the hall. Without hesitation this time, he slammed himself into me. The pain I felt was greater than before. I couldn’t believe it was happening again. He kept leaning down and telling me to give in to the pain, and soon it would become pleasure. I refused to let myself enjoy anything that was going on. With zero strength left in my body, I layed limp and thought of how I could possibly tell my sister as he continued to abuse me. Soon enough, the pain became a different kind of pain, one that was hard to explain. Suddenly, it began to feel good.
I cannot tell you how disgusted I was with myself in that moment. He had taken his hand away from my mouth because I had fallen silent, but an odd groaning sound ended up coming out. He took this as a sign that I was enjoying it and told me he would make me come. I started to plead, tears escaping my eyes and pooling on the pillow beneath me. I kept whispering for him to stop, but he told me me that once I came, I would be glad he didn’t stop. Soon enough, the weird pain came back and I bit down on the pillowcase, drenched in sweat, tears and saliva. I wanted it to be over so bad. I didn’t want to just give up anymore. I wanted to get away somehow, but I couldn’t.
I am still incredibly ashamed to admit this, but I ended up ejaculating onto the mattress below me, shortly after he had finished inside me. None of it actually felt that good, though. All I could really feel was the burning guilt and shame from the event. I remember he left me laying alone on the soiled bed and went back to his own bedroom without a word. After that, I left the next morning without having to see him.

It wasn’t until four months later when I ended up gathering the nerve to tell my sister. Immediately, she Calle do of the wedding and kicked him out of the house. I didn’t want to get the police involved and report him, all that mattered was that he wasn’t with my sister anymore. She kept insisting that we did something, but I’m glad we didn’t.

It’s been almost ten years since the encounter. I’m twenty-eight now and I’m living with my girlfriend who I met six years ago. I reluctantly told her about being forced on by another man, and she was incredibly understanding. She agreed that we could take our physical relationship as slow as I needed. After going out for two years, I finally felt comfortable enough to try sex with her. It was just like it would’ve been before my encounter, and my girlfriend was over the moon happy that we could successfully have sex without any emotional conflict toward it on my part. Over the years, I learned that I couldn’t let this rape define me. It wouldn’t dominate my whole life, it was just something unfortunate that happened in the past. I’ve learned to be able to forget about the past. I’ll admit, it hurts to look back on it. But when I’m not thinking about it every minute of every day, I feel absolutely fine. My sister found someone else who treats her so great and gets along well with me and our other sister.

I hope other men and women who have gone through what I have can see this and know that they’re not alone. It’s possible to lead a normal life after it happens. This may sound really fucked up, but literally the best thing to do is not make a big deal of it. If you keep thinking about it all the time and dwelling on what happened, you’ll never feel better. You need to try your best to forget what happened in the past, because that was the last and this is the now.
Thanks for reading,

Christopher

Author

WYR

WYR

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

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