Feelings and physical manifestations: Constricted throat, intense pressures in my head, especially behind my eyes. Tears. Shaky hands, and f’ing determination to tell my story!!

 

My sister had decided she also wanted to move down with dad and brothers. She showed up, and space wasn’t going her way. I was with my brother at first, but felt awkward. I moved into a closet under the stairs… Harry Potter was 2nd!! She and my younger brother figured out how to share the large bedroom, my dad in the spare. I think it was about a month or so and she  found a boyfriend in Urbana Ill.

I had gotten my drivers license the end of 10th grade, age 16. I drove to Champaign to see Star Wars during this time, it was late summer 1977. Not long after, maybe just before Sept., My sister invited me once to go have pizza with her and boyfriend Mohammed. I enjoyed myself. At their apartment I was given a beer and we listened to music with Mohammed’s, roommate and my sister.

The next visit I discovered the roommate had pot. I hadn’t had any for a very long time and really wanted some. They obliged and I also had some beer. Unfortunately I had some bad food and too many beers with the pot. The mix caused me to throw up. My sister was nice about it though.

Then the next and last time I visited, I was not as welcome, and I really wanted pot again. Really badly. I accepted an invite to some party the roommate was going. When we got to the apartment a small weak joint was passed around, and a few beers were available. It was a party for the Arab men to relax and some seemed to want sex with each other. I was very uncomfortable, but had never judged others. Two guys made out on the far side of the room, in front of everyone. I pretended not to notice.

Late and by now, and I had lost track of the roommate, it was too late to get back to join my sister and Mohammed, I felt it necessary to ask to stay the night. The two guys didn’t see a problem with that. I had been 16 for not quite two months?

TRIGGER WARNING:
It was sometime in the deep night that I became aware of a presence. Tense, afraid, confused and in shock, I felt a touch, and the person made an effort to lay on top of me. It was what I had seen the two men do when they were making out. I was desperate, and imagined my voice seemed panicked, but I tried to talk, awkwardly I ask “what do you want”? The response was to join him in his bed. Now I really panicked, I resisted not moving and sat silent for a bit; then asking if I could just stay and sleep, leave me alone. “No”, he insisted, I had slept over, it was right I go with him.

I was that skinny weakling, and this man began to pull my arm, and proceeded to pull me to his room. He then insisted I undress and lay on my belly. He made his way on top of me, and worked at penetrating me, while I worked at pushing my buttocks together when I could. He had smeared something on his penis, and he slide in me a short way, then I would I try harder to tighten my buttocks. I don’t know how long this went on, I was in shock, stunned at my predicament, and thinking of what I could do to leave/escape?

I got up after he left for a bathroom trip, and I went myself, and tried to stay in there. He knocked and kept insisting I return. Soon he was replaced by the second man. He said he wanted me now, it was his turn. Trapped, naked, in shock having been raped, I didn’t know what to do? I didn’t know what all this meant. I gave up after much knocking, fearing it could provoke something, and went with the other man.

He wanted oral sex, and I didn’t know what to do, panic had me forget that one other time? He put my hand on him and showed me how he wanted to be rubbed, then pushed my head down and told me to try putting my mouth on it. I don’t have much more memory of this , that was about when I went blank. I thought writing would bring the memory back, and it does to some degree, but then that blank spot has remained blank. It’s said that in survival mode, we dissociate and forget the trauma.

I’m not sure If I slept, I’m not sure when they left. When I got up from that second room, I found my clothes, dressed and searched for money to get home. I thought I might find a taxi, or bus? I eventually made it home, but can’t recall how. I ignored what happened and tried to do whatever else there was to do. I don’t recall having to explain where I was, and I didn’t bring up the topic. I suppressed it, though acted out badly, most of the next 9+ months of my 16th year on earth.

Continues later…

 

One thought on “I’m going to be crying while I type this… This… this is the rape.

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