Cassidy’s Story: More Than Once

It started when I was 4 years old, too young to know much about the world. He was 12. He was someone I looked up to, someone I loved and thought could never do me wrong. He was my older cousin, someone I had many sleep overs with. He asked to see my vagina, as he would start dating soon and wanted to know what they looked like. He made me pull up my night gown, pull down my panties, and he touched me.
I don’t remember much about that night, as a lot of the memories are surpressed, but the vividness of what I do remember haunts me. But my story doesn’t end there.
I was 14, a month from being 15, just started high school. He was my best friends ex boyfriend. I invited him over, let him in my house, in my room. I let him kiss me and push me on the bed. He made me touch him as he touched me, and ripped my shirt and bra off. I pushed him away, tried to pull my hand away from his penis, but he kept putting it back, continued to touch me. It wasn’t until my dad came home that he pulled away.
I was 19, he was my boyfriend, the man who took my virginity. We would fool around a lot, but he would always want more. I was always scared. He would plead, and beg, and make me feel bad if we didn’t have sex. Made me believe it was truly consensual, because I said yes. But I didn’t actually want it.
I was 20. It was our first date. Things seemed to be going well, until he ordered that first shot, then another, and another. He bought us drinks as well. I can hold my alcohol well, so I didn’t think much of it at first. He paid the bill, and off we went to his car. I thought we were going elsewhere to sing some karaoke. But we ended up outside his apartment, him saying his weed was there and asked if I wanted some. I went up to his place, and we smoked up. But then he pushed me down onto the bed. I immediately curled into the fetal position as he made out with me, shoved his tongue in my mouth, as if my mouth was a lollipop. He pushed my legs so they were straight and got on top of me. I continued trying to push him away, saying we should go to karaoke, and he continued to make excuses to stay. He grabbed at my boobs, and I said now. He told me to get comfortable, because I was making him uncomfortable. He was forcing himself on me for near 15 minutes before I was able to get up, using the excuse that I needed the washroom. I grabbed my phone, and texted all my friends, hoping someone could save me from this nightmare. One of my friends called me an uber to another friends place, as I couldn’t be alone.
I was victim blamed that night. I was called stupid for getting myself into that situation. And her words still bounce around in my head. Was it my fault? Was I really stupid?
The friend who called an uber for me and I were hanging out, and I told her the full story, but yet there was some doubt in the back of my mind that he would have raped me that night. That maybe I was seeing things wrong. But when I showed her a picture, and she told me how this same man raped her two years ago, all doubt vanished. We cried together that night. She told me she was so happy I had texted her, begging her to get me out. She was so happy that she saved me from her rapist.
I still have nightmares of what could have been. I can’t sleep without tossing and turning for hours. I cry every single night.
And I’m terrified that my story won’t end here. That there will be more in the future. I’m scared to go on another date. Scared to get close to anyone else. Because I don’t want to add another story.