Sophie’s Story: WHO I AM

This is a story of not only sexual abuse, but emotional and verbal abuse as well. He was my first boyfriend. I was a freshman, and a junior wanted to date me. I felt so lucky that an older guy would be into my awkward and nerdy self. We started dating after he made me sneak out one night, and told me that we were going to kiss that night. Me, being 14, went along with whatever he said. We kissed on a playground in his neighborhood at 3am, listening to ‘our album.’ From that point, we went to his place and made out for a little bit, and then he dropped me off back home.
I was a virgin. He was very experienced with other girls, which he wasn’t afraid to tell me at every point in the day. He controlled what I wore to school, and called me a slut if I wore anything he disapproved of. If I didn’t skip out on class early in order to go see him when he got out of class, he would yell at me. One time, he told me that if I talked to my best friend ever again, who he didn’t like, I would have to perform oral sex on him. I talked to my best friend again, and he made me do it. We were dating for one week. I didn’t want to do it. He got high that night and made me let him touch my genitals. I didn’t want to do that either.
After three months of emotional abuse, he wanted to have sex. He told me that guys need sex in a relationship or they leave. He warned me that he had plenty of other girls who wanted to fuck him anyways, and that if I didn’t want to, he’d probably break up with me. I kept saying no still but he pleaded. Telling me he needed it. I was a virgin. We were in the basement of my house, and he tried to penetrate me. It hurt. Worse than anything I’ve felt before. I told him we needed to stop. He told me it was fine and to just deal with it. He kept trying and trying. We eventually stopped. This went on for months and months. We broke up and got back together a few times, but he always kept trying to penetrate me. He even told me to practice with a shampoo bottle on my own to appease him. I was 15 when he actually had sex with me. I went along with it. He pleaded. Told me he needed me. Told me he would love me forever. Afterwards he asked if I wanted to go home yet.
The last time was what broke me, I think.
We were in his car in a church parking lot that he pulled off into. We made out shortly, and told me that he wanted to fuck me. I said no, that I didn’t feel comfortable doing that right now, or in a church parking lot for that matter. He got very upset. He punched the chair in front of him and yelled at me for never wanting to have sex with him. I went into full fight or flight mode, because I thought he was going to hurt me, physically this time. I was so, so ready to jump out of the car and run home. I started crying, and he held me. He asked if I was going to break up with him. I said no.

I’m 18 years old now. I thought I was over everything that happened. I barely touched the surface of the emotional turmoil this man put me through. He took me away from my friends, made me betray my family’s trust, and took my innocence away from me when I was just 14. I was a kid. I wish I could talk to myself back then and tell her not to date him, no matter what. Not to give in to his honey-coated words. He wasn’t worth it.
He still texts me. Four years later. He texts me apologies, and tells me that he’s changed. The fact that this man penetrated me without my full consent will never, ever change. I go into fight or flight whenever I see someone who looks like him, and that will never change. I’m a different person because of what he did to me, and that will never change.
I didn’t realize it was rape until much recently.
I got into a relationship with a guy that made me believe in trusting people again. Trusting people with my heart and body, without being scared. But, with all of these good feelings, came a flood of the bad ones. I started to realize just how badly my abuser treated me. I realized that I didn’t fully consent to what he did to me. I couldn’t consent. I was 14. He raped me. It feels wrong to type those words across this page, but it is true. He. Raped. Me.
I’m starting to heal. I keep looking for resources online, and joined a therapy group for sexual assault survivors at my university.
I hate what he did to me, but it’s made me the strong ass person that I am today. I’m me because I went through of all of that. I still hate what he did, but I’m glad that I’m even stronger than before.