Anonymous Story: Scared Little Girl in the Basement

Anonymous Story: Scared Little Girl in the Basement

Turning off the lights and putting on the movie Speed, she retreated to the living room where she completely forgot about us. How the event came about is a mystery to me, but the four boys eventually ran out of things to occupy them and decided to experiment with me. Some older and some younger than me, they pinned me down, removed their and my underwear and simulated a gang rape.

Joy Ward’s Story: Broken Bottles

Joy Ward’s Story: Broken Bottles

This is my story –of a 13-year-old victim who reported to the police in 1956. Ancient history? Perhaps, but it may give some insight into why victims don't report and the surreal experience of doing so. That said, I firmly believe that victims should speak out and identify themselves. It is not their shame! Not publishing names "in order to protect the victim" implies that somehow it is the victim's shame. Rapists are the ones who deserve to be identified and shamed.

Dawn’s Story: Knowing No Childhood

Dawn’s Story: Knowing No Childhood

Life went on as normal, everyone pretended that everything was fine and that nothing had happened. No one but a few close friends that I had finally confided in knew what had happened. But that kind of secret, festers and boils below the surface until one day the cracks start to appear.

Lisa M.’s Story: I was just a little girl, all alone and scared.

Lisa M.’s Story: I was just a little girl, all alone and scared.

I was 12 years old when I became "the victim" of the unspeakable and life has never been the same for me and it never will. I can't tell you honestly how many times I was sexually assaulted as a child because I've hidden from the memories for so long by the age of 14 I could no longer cope so I turned to drugs,alcohol and anything else I could find to make me feel better if even for a moment. Maybe that's why I can remember only bits and pieces of those years.

Finding Fierce’s Story: The Fight Inside

My mother once told me she had had second thoughts
about getting us vaccinated, my brothers and I.
About sullying our pristine, trusting little bodies
with dark potential.

This is how I feel about something else
that happened to me then.
The unwanted touch like the needle.
An unfamiliar dis-ease shot under my smooth, new skin.