Kaitlyn’s Story: They Didn’t Know They Had to Teach Me This

Kaitlyn’s Story: They Didn’t Know They Had to Teach Me This

I met a boy who danced at the same studio I went to. I was 14. We went on our first date bowling. I still have the picture from that day. There’s a lot of dread I feel looking at it, knowing that I could have stopped myself right then and there. But how could I have known? We lived far away but we always texted. I was so happy to have someone interested in me. 14 me would give anything to have a boy interested in me. We called each other “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”, which to some at that age seems silly but what happened to me was real. I have blocked out a lot, but I do remember some traces of how it all started. He would text me how terrible his day was and blame it on me. When I tried to cheer him up it wasn’t enough, he would still be sad and angry. Then the next sign. I would be busy on some of the weekends when he wanted to see me and I started to be blamed for his unhappiness. He blamed me for the distance between us and the little time we spent together. It was at this point I started getting scared asking my parents if he could come over. I didn’t want him there but he would pressure me to ask my parents. I always hoped they would say no. The next sign. Our dates weren’t dates. It was staying in my upstairs media room, even if it was nice outside. This is where the second sign got even scarier. After awhile he started demanding me to make it up to him for being busy or not coming that weekend. Making it up to him was in sexual acts I didn’t want to perform or truly be performed on me. Once we kissed and he pushed my head down after I said no repeatedly. Thank god he stopped, but one day he didn’t. I was sitting on the coach watching a movie and he slid his hand on to my thigh. I knew what was coming. As he went into my shorts I froze up entirely, hoping it would stop. I told him I didn’t want to do anything like that. It didn’t stop him. The next sign. He hated my friends. He hated them because they saw me more, and never trusted me with any of them. I would constantly get text messages. Over and over again “where are you?” “What the fuck did I do wrong?” “Answer your phone” “did your phone die ?” “Are you ignoring me?” I was ignoring him. I didn’t want to face him and the fighting that came with it. I remember our 10 month anniversary. Out of all the memories I’ve tried to forget that one stays. I remember we slowed danced at my friends party. I didn’t want to speak to him at all. The slow dance felt so painful. With every step and every small push of his hand on my back to get closer. Dread. Then I went home and he was mad at me for being distant. I remember that night the most for the amount of tears I wept. I cried almost every night but, that night was different. When I cried he would call me and tell me he was sorry and would never do it again. For some reason I believe him. For some reason I would tell him I love him. That wasn’t love. It was manipulation and pain. I told some people but everyone’s advice was to just work it out. I tried again and again. The beginning of freshman year I wanted nothing more than to get away from him. He was now being verbally aggressive on top of everything else. I wanted to be free but I feared him. I was scared he would hurt himself if I broke up with him. Or hurt me. He had never physically hurt me, but he never had to. My mental state was already bruised and battered. My birthday rolled around. He got me a ring that was too big for my finger. Ironic. He never fit with me, like the ring didn’t. A couple days after my birthday party I got out of the shower to see my mom in my room looking concerned. “Does he talk to you like that all the time?” That was my wake up call. I bawled my eyes out and my mother held me. I texted him and told him that I never wanted to see him again. My mom texted him and told him to never come to the house or she would have him arrested. I remember the last thing he said to me. He called me and said “Kaitlyn, Im sorry, PLEASE…..please…please”. I hung up on him. Sometimes I replay that call in my head. I was thinking how I should’ve told him what he really did. Wake him up to who he was and maybe he could learn from it. The problem was I didn’t realize it was abuse till one day in school. Police came and I felt the dread again. It was hard to be happy after that relationship. I felt free and suppressed it but still had a heavy heart. As time went on I had two more boyfriends. One after the first would call me stupid and judge my friends. The third never listened to me, ignored me, and toyed with my emotions after we broke up. I never felt so unhappy. On the surface I was so excited and optimistic, but below I was distraught. I felt lost and tortured. Constantly haunted by what happened. Although life is funny. I’m currently a junior in high school and have the best boyfriend and person in general by my side. He’s my other half through and through. We have mutual respect and I have never once felt like I did with any of my ex’s. I still now and then break down and cannot move when memories flood back into my head. My boyfriend now has been the most supportive and helpful person in my life. He’s helping me to move on and accept it more. The only thing that truly bothers me is how when I grew up we were taught to watch out for creepy older men, when in reality these people are our age too. I never thought I would be a victim. No one does. It was just a shock when I admitted it to myself. We need to teach more younger people the stranger danger of people their age. No one should go through what I went through and still get PTSD from. I have now been sharing my story with friends hoping they will listen and learn. I believe sharing gets everyone one more step to recognizing the signs before it’s too late. I also share to make awareness of other types of abuse.Sexual, verbal, and emotional abuse. He never had to hit me. His words and actions did enough. It’ll never leave my mind but, I have learned from it. Things get better. I promise.

Author

WYR

WYR

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

Related