Anonymous Story: my impact statement

Anonymous Story: my impact statement

May 31st, 2017 my life changed. I will never be the person I used to be, I will always carry the pain of what happened to me with me. I will always have the memory of my husband’s brother raping me and smiling while he did it. It’s hard so hard for me to understand how someone can even go through with something so evil. I wish I could say that I was the only person that was affected, but I’m not. This didn’t just affect me, It happened to my husband as well. He lost a brother in the worst possible way, and will always carry what happened with him as well.
It’s impossible to explain how I felt after what had happened to me. I felt as though my worth had been taken from me. When I left the hospital, I didn’t go back home. I didn’t want to be in the place where it happened. My husband took me to a hotel for the night so I could feel safe. I felt empty and broken. That night I locked myself in the bathroom. I swallowed some pills, drank a bottle of wine, and my cut my wrist open. My husband found me, and held me for hours. I felt so much shame for wanting to die, but I couldn’t stop feeling that way. I spent months after the attack wishing I was dead. I quit my job, and didn’t leave my home. Every second that I was awake I wanted to not exist, and when I slept I would have reoccuring nightmares of him hurting me.
I turned to anxiety medications. It was the only thing that helped me not think about it. It became my coping mechanism. Everytime I wanted to stop taking medication, all I could think about was going to court and not being able to speak about what happened to me in front of everyone. I didn’t think I could do it without medication, so I continued taking it. I would prepare myself, and then when the time came for me to testify, they would find a reason to put court off. This happened over and over. After a little over a year of medicating myself and hiding from my feelings, I decided to check myself into a treatment center. I spent 45 days away from home, in a house with people I didn’t know, so I could learn how to cope with what happened to me without drugs. I left as someone who had learned to love myself, after my self worth was taken from me.
I wish I could say it doesn’t hurt anymore, but it does. It affects me every single day. Every choice I make. Ever person I let into my life. Every place I go. How can you trust anyone, when someone that was going to be a part of your family, that you let into your home, hurt you in the worst possible way? I live in constant fear that he will get out of jail and hurt me. I am in constant fear that he will hurt my family. And I am in constant fear that he will get out and hurt somebody I don’t know. He had two years to take responsibility for what he did to me. He showed no remorse for what he did. He lied under oath. Every choice he has ever made has been for himself, and always will be. I wish I could say there was hope, and that he could change, but he will always be a monster.
I wish I could forget about what happened, and never have to say his name ever again. Every life choice I make revolves around whether he is in prison or not. I am afraid to stay here. I am afraid to have kids, because I don’t know if they would be safe from him. If he were to get out, I don’t know what I would do. I wish I could have closure. I wish I could know he was never going to hurt me or anyone else ever again. The sentence he gets determines how long I get to live the life I want to without fear. It also may save a life. Or many lives. I don’t feel selfish for wishing he spent the rest of his life in prison. I feel the opposite. The only thing worse than what happened to me, is if he were to get out and do it to someone else.



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