A Buried Memory Returned to Haunt Me
I’ve been feeling shitty since Friday. I didn’t mention it in my last post, but the real trigger for Saturday’s near-cutting crisis was seeing the man who raped me when I was seventeen. It made me feel like it had just happened all over again. I had no idea it would affect me like this… its been almost 11 years.
I had been raped prior to that countless times by my ex-stepfather and another family member. You would think I was accustomed to it by then – and I was, but only by those who habitually sexually abused me. Typically, the invasions began while I was sleeping. If I awoke during the violation I usually pretended I was asleep until it was over. It was easier to block it out if I thought of it as a bad dream. Sexual assault is always scathing, but the usual attacks I endured were non-violent and over fairly quickly; except my defloration – I was six years old. I won’t go into a lot of detail about the rape itself. It is still too upsetting for me. I don’t want to trigger a cutting session.
My ex-stepfather’s half-brother, Pete, is the sadistic bastard that brutally raped me.
It happened during Memorial Day week 1996. I had been out of school a couple weeks and I went to stay with my mom and her boyfriend. They shared a house on Lake Keystone. She had invited some people (friends and family of my ex-stepdad) from Okmulgee to visit. Marcel (Pete’s dad) had an RV and a speedboat. He brought Pete, Terry, and 4 other people with him. I thought of Pete as my uncle and Marcel as my grandfather. Terry was Pete’s step-nephew. We had known each other since we were kids. We were having a blast.
Terry and I spent most of our time together. I was attracted to him and after a few days I decided to have sex with him. We did it the night before he was supposed to go back home. It was my first time (willingly). I wasn’t in love with him or anything, but I enjoyed the experience. We had a lot of fun. Before that, I didn’t think anything sexual could be fun. It had always been so degrading and painful.
The next day they packed up all the camping gear and were about to go back to Okmulgee. Terry asked me to go with him. I wanted to spend more time (and have more sex) with him. My little brother went with me. We planned on staying at Marcel’s. Terry lived next door to him. He wanted me to stay at his place, but his mom was on a drinking binge and I didn’t want to be around it.
I had become friends with one of the women Marcel had brought with him. She (Dawn) made me go to the bar with her because she didn’t want to go alone. I went and guys were buying me drinks. I got tipsy pretty quick. Marcel sent one of the boys to come get me when he heard where I was.
Dawn and I went back to Marcel’s house. We were all hanging around playing pool and stuff. Dawn knew I had sex with Terry the night before and she was teasing me about it. Pete overheard. His whole demeanor changed.
Later, after almost everyone left, I went to bed. I had forgotten my pajamas so I just took off my jeans and wore my t-shirt and panties to bed. I hadn’t been asleep for very long when someone came into the bedroom and slipped into bed with me. It was dark, so I couldn’t tell who it was, but I had assumed it was Terry.
He started kissing my neck. I said, “Terry, we can’t do that here.” He pulled back and I saw that it wasn’t Terry. It was Pete. I thought he may have came into the wrong room. He had been flirting a lot with Dawn earlier that night, so I thought he meant to go to her room. I sort of laughed and told him he was in the wrong bed. That’s when it turned violent.
He said, “I’m not good enough for you, but that little motherfucker is?”
I was confused. I was barely awake and still a little tipsy. I asked him what he was talking about. He said, “I know you’re fucking Terry.”
I admitted that I had sex with Terry, but I told him that it wasn’t any of his business. He slapped me, hard. I tried to stand up to get away from him and he grabbed both my arms. He dug his nails in and yanked me back. I still tried to get away. I got up and he was right behind me. He grabbed me by the hair and covered my mouth with his hand. He said, “if you make another fucking sound I will snap your neck.”
I was scared shitless. He pushed me and I fell to the floor. He grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me to the bed. He pulled me up by my hair and shoved me on the bed. He tried to straddle me, but I rolled over. Then he started punching my back. The kidney punches hurt like hell. I went limp in hopes that he would leave me alone.
He turned me back over and straddled me. He grabbed my throat and dug his thumbs in. I struggled, and he slapped me again. He held me down by my throat while he pulled his pants down. Then he beat me more, raped me, and did other things that I don’t want to think about.
Afterwards, he said, “You’re mine now. I own you. Don’t even think about telling anyone about this. You know my dad can buy me out of trouble. Besides, no one would believe you anyway.” Then he walked out.
I was in so much pain I could barely move. I still couldn’t believe what happened. It didn’t seem real. I felt disgusting, but I was afraid to open the door and go shower. I laid on the bed and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.
The next morning, my brother woke me up by bouncing on the bed. He could tell something was wrong. I told him what happened and asked him to not leave me alone. He wanted to beat the hell out of Pete, but he was only 11 years old and Pete was in his thirties. Marcel cooked breakfast and he made me eat.
Pete was at the table. He kept looking at me with this sickening smile. He pretended nothing happened. I couldn’t get out of there quick enough. As soon as I could, I went to Terry’s house. I called my mom, but she wouldn’t come get me. She said she couldn’t do it until the next day.
I had to stay in there again, but my little brother slept in the same bed. He made sure no one came in that night.
We went back home the next day. I told mom what happened, but she didn’t want me to tell anyone else, especially the police. She said I would lose and it would cause more pain in the long run. She told me to forget about it.
I didn’t have sex again for almost two years. The flashbacks were hell. Once I started having sex again, I always had to be drunk. There are only a few guys I had sex with sober. I just started being able to do it sober the past few months (only because I quit drinking in January).
Until last Friday, I hadn’t thought about Pete or the rape in a few months. Now, the memory is as fresh as it was the day afterwards. I talked to my counselor about it yesterday and I have an appointment with my other therapist later today. Hopefully, they can help me. I have to find a way to deal with it directly instead of burying it. Dealing with it is the only way I’ll ever be free from Pete. I want to close that chapter of my life, once and for all.
On this day..
About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.