Survivors' Stories

Note: I found these stories online, and I've posted them here in the hopes that other survivors might see them and realize they are not alone. If I have posted your story on my site, please understand I have done so only to try to help other people. If you do not want your story on my website, please Email Me and I will remove it immediately. Thank you, and may the Goddess protect you and bless you always.
--Maria

Melanie's Story

I have never taken the time to write my story down on paper. I am hoping that it will help to release the pressure that has been building up for six years. I apologize if I seem to ramble, but I know this is going to be very hard.

I guess that I should start by saying how I got where I was, and why it was such a big secret. I was sixteen, and had been dating Eric, who was 4 years my senior for 3 years. He was a sophomore in college, I was a sophomore in high school. This would have been all fine well and good, but my parents didn’t know that I was dating him. It was April 1995, and I told my parents that I was going to spend school vacation at my best friends house. She had recently moved out of state, so it was a good story. I went up to spend the week with Eric, of course.

The first night I was there we went to a fraternity party. I had been to quite a few before, and this one was no different. We went with a group of our friends. Eric was a member of the fraternity, and we both knew that these parties tended to get a little out of control. My friend Marc told me to be careful and if I needed his help to just yell. If I knew how desperately I would need his help, I would have started yelling then.

The party went smoothly enough, but I got tired early. I went upstairs to Eric’s room to go to bed. I told him I was going up and he promised he would follow me right up. I went up and got into bed. I had been lying there for a few minutes, and had started to drift off to sleep. I felt someone kiss my neck, and I thought that it was him. I moaned and rolled over, too tired to make love to him. Then I felt hands all over me, one on each wrist, pulling my hands above my head, and two pulling off my clothes. I opened my eyes and saw five guys standing over me. I tried to scream, but another hand quickly covered my mouth. The one who was on top of me told me not to scream and it wouldn’t hurt. The voices around me kept saying to relax and enjoy myself. I tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. I felt like my insides were going to burst. I don’t have words to describe the pain I felt. After the third guy was done with me, I knew that if I didn't find a way out of it, I probably wouldn’t survive. I heard the music stop, as if on cue. The CD had run out in the stereo, now was my chance. I bit the hand over my mouth and yelled “Eric, Eric, ERIC” as loud as I could. The hand that I bit backhanded me, but my effort was worth it. Marc had heard me and came running. When Eric saw him run up the stairs, he quickly followed. I don’t remember much that happened after that. I was told that I went to the hospital. Somehow I ended up at Marc’s apartment sleeping in his arms.

Of course if my night hadn’t been bad enough, Eric’s ego was hurt. He had a raging temper, and was convinced that I had planned something with one or more of those guys and it went bad. I tried to convince him otherwise, but his mind was set. To prove to me that I should be with him, he raped me two nights later. I begged him over and over to stop, telling him that he was the one that I loved and it didn’t need to be like this. I don’t know what was worse, being terrorized by five complete strangers, or raped by the person you think is the love of your life.

I have moved on, I have a loving boyfriend and a beautiful son. The memories of that night are still as vivid as ever. Sometimes I have flashbacks while making love to my boyfriend. I can’t tell him what happens and what I see during my flashbacks, I’m afraid of his reaction. He knows I was raped, but thinks I should have gotten over it by now. I’m trying, but I just can’t feel better. The nightmares go away every once in awhile, but they always come back. When is this going to end?

From Anonymous on anyoneseenthebridge.com

Let me tell a story. Its about friends, alcohol and bad decisions. Its also about rape, but its a different kind of rape.

Back in college, when I was 19, I started being friends with this guy in a fraternity (the fraternity part is important). We hung out together, had kissed a couple times, and were maybe getting ready to move into a dating relationship. It was slow going, no hurry.

One night I went to his fraternity to a party, and did what you do at those parties, got drunk. I mean I got REALLY drunk, about to throw up and pass out drunk. He offered to let me go sleep in his bunk (there were 4 beds in his fraternity room). And being so freaking drunk, and friends (I thought) with this guy, I let him lead me there. I passed out. And awoke to him f***ing me. I didn't scream, I didn't fight. I was drunk, and stunned, there were other people in the room, and thought I was safe with him. I thought wrong.

About a year later I started a relationship with one of this guy's fraternity brothers. After being together 6 months, I tried to tell him about that night. He didn't believe me. He continued to be friends with that guy.

Girls DON"T tell right away lots of times because they are ashamed, they blame themselves. They may later be able to talk about it, want to talk about it, need to talk about it.

I admit, I made some bad decisions, but bad decisions don't make it ok to rape someone. And no consent IS rape, no matter how much some of you males like to deny it. I was passed out. A court of law calls that rape. I didn't go to the police, I didn't tell my parents, I didn't tell my best friend.

I'm not scarred by this. I've moved past it. This kind of rape IS rape, its just not the kinds of violent stranger rape that would necessarily lead to years of therapy.

Susan's Story

During the first few weeks of my sophomore year in college,
I went to a fraternity party with a bunch of my friends.
Everyone was drinking, so I had a few shots. I met a guy named
Gary who seemed nice. We talked and danced.
When it started to get crowded, Gary asked me if I
wanted to go for a drive. On the way to the car, I felt really dizzy.
Then I must have passed out. When I regained consciousness,
I was in a dark room, my clothes were off, and Gary was on top of me.
I kept going in and out of consciousness. I was too weak to move.
I could hear other guys in the room. They were cheering.
Then they took turns raping me.

Autobiographical Narrative by a Former University of Minnesota Student:

"In September 1966, I turned 18, entered the University of Minnesota…
I was on my way. I could make a difference in the world.
My first quarter G.P.A. was 3.5.
In November 1966, I was raped at a fraternity party.
I flunked out of school in 1968."

Jennifer's Story

When I was 17 years old I went to a college party with some friends of mine. I am an occasional drinker, and I had been drinking at the party. I began to feel extremely disoriented and dizzy. I had been talking to one particular guy, and he noticed my condition and offered to take me somewhere to lay down until I felt better. He was very sweet and thoughtful. In the frame of mind that I was in at the time, I accepted his offer, thinking nothing of it.

He took me into a bedroom (at a frat house), and laid me down on the bed. I remember him coming on to me and I told him to stop, that I didn't feel very well. One of my friends came and knocked on the door, I didn't have the strength to get up, so he went outside to talk to them. I found out later that he had told my friends that I had passed out on the bed and he was letting me "sleep it off." My friends thought nothing of the situation either, seeing as how he was such a caring and thoughtful individual.

He came back in the room and started touching me again. I could struggle with him or fight him off, that was the worst thing to accept. I couldn't even defend myself against him. He kept telling me that I would feel better if I just let him do what he wanted to. He physically assaulted me when I tried to stop him or told him no. I actually passed out after he hit me several times, so I don't remember the actual rape. When I woke up my clothes were all off and he was gone. I had a terrible headache too. I got dressed, found my friends, told them that I didn't feel good and wanted to go home.

I am now almost 19 years old, and I just told my boyfriend what had happened to me. I know now that the guy at the party had slipped something into my drink. I have a hard time sleeping, often having to take sleeping pills, I am incredibly afraid of everyone, or situations where there are a lot of people around. I am a college student, and have a fear of going to parties. When my boyfriend touches me in a certain way it just sets off memories of what happened to me. This wasn't just something that happened to me, it is still happening. It's not just something that I can forget, it's something that I have to live with.

Kelly's Story

Hi, my name is kelly and i was raped during my freshman year of college. i had been drinking way too much one night. i passed out and i woke up later in the back of my car naked. i knew i got raped immediately but when i got home and i found that someone had also written obscene things on my back and on my butt. just really degrading things. i do not care to repeat it now.

days went on and i didnt tell anyone about it. until one day about 2 weeks after the event, i begin to notice guys looking at me funny. finally one guy came up to me and said he would like to be in my next gangbang. i was totally shocked at what he said. later i found out that there were all these photos of me being raped by 6 guys and they were being distributed between frat houses via emails. i was sick to the stomach when i finally saw them. people didnt know i was actually getting raped in those pictures. i had to report it to the school, but they never got the guys and people still kept sending my photos around. i had to transfer to a different university because i was constantly being propositioned. i became a prisoner in my own dorm room. and all this happened because i didnt know my limits and i drank too much. i am now 26 and i can call myself a survivor. but it has been hard keeping relationships going. and if any guy out there can honestly tell me why you men loves degrading women, i am all ears.

From an Anonymous Post at welcometobarbados.org

i'm sorry. i'm sorry to anyone who has been raped since i have been. i'm sorry i didn't go after the b**tard so he wouldn't do it to anyone else. i'm sorry he's probably still out there.

i was a junior in college, and i had been seeing this guy for two and a half years. he was and is the love of my life, and that's why he can never know what i'm talking about here. we needed a night apart from each other so i made it a point ot have a girls night out with my roomate and some other friends. we went to a frat party on my university's campus, as we had done when we all first got to college.

we were having a great time--my friends were dancing, and because i don't dance, i just stood around chatting, watching my friends, and drinking a lot of beer. it was a party after all. anyway, the party went on and on, and we stayed til the band played the last song and were packing up their equipment, when all of a sudden my roomate and i ran into a guy we used to know from another friend. john, seemed to be a decent enough guy, and so we didn't think anything about talking to him or his friends. none of them went to my school, but we didn't think it was a big deal. anyway, as i said, i was pretty drunk and was ready to go home, but my roomate still had some energy left, and she invited john and his friends back to our apartment to drink some more and to just hang out a while. i was cool with it, but before we left the frat, john leaned over and kissed me. i was shocked and just stood there because minutes before he just asked me about my boyfriend.

so we rode with john's friend to my house, and then my roomate realized we didn't have much beer and she was out of cigarettes. so everyone was wanting to go to the store to get more supplies. i was too drunk at this time to even walk back down the stairs of my apartment so i said i'd stay behind. that's when john decided to stay too. that's when john raped me.

there i said it. he raped me, the little fuck. after asking me about my boyfriend. he started off with a kiss, then he dragged me to my bedroom, and raped me in my own bed. my OWN bed! and even though it seems like an impossible thing to do, he shoved his penis into my mouth while i was pinned down. this all happened in the time it took to buy some beer and cigarettes from a convenience store.

i was in shock. my roomate came back shortly, but i couldn't even tell her. i still have never told her. she crashed after every one left, but i couldn't sleep. i stayed up and sat outside drinking the last of the beer and smoking cigarettes in utter disbelief. finally when morning came around, i showered for a really long time, but it didn't matter. that scarlet letter still stains my soul to this very day. anyway...that's my story, only a few people know, but maybe through this anonymity, some other girl going to a frat party, or anywhere else can be saved. i'm sorry i didn't save myself.

thanks for reading.

Rayne's Story

It was my second semester in college. I was away from my very loving family. I had recently ended a relationship with a man I had planned on marrying. My self esteem was in the toilet. I had just moved in to a single room on a floor where I knew nobody. And worst of all I was lonely.

I met Sean through a friend of a friend and was immediately attracted. He was everything I wanted but thought I couldn’t have. He was a handsome "frat" boy. He had money, a great car, and girls who wanted to go out with him. I didn’t stand a chance.

When Sean started showing interest I was amazed. It wasn’t long before we were dating regularly and seeing each other on an almost daily basis. For the first month he was everything I hoped for and more. Sean took me out for Valentine’s Day and brought me flowers and called often. We talked about our pasts and our futures. He told me things he never told anyone. He said he respected my decision to stay a virgin until marriage. Soon I was his girlfriend. I frequented the frat house with him. I sat in the bleachers with the other girlfriends and watched them play whatever intramural game they were playing. I became part of the girlfriend clique. Laughing at the groupies at the parties. I was one of the cool ones and I’d never had that before. I revelled in it.

We were into our second month when the problems began. Sean started getting moody. He would break dates, stand me up, or start arguments and walk away in the middle of them. He’d call later to beg my forgiveness and tell me that his feelings for me were scaring him. He loved me, he said, and he’d never felt that way about a girl before. But it would still happen. The broken dates, the arguments. I was sure I was losing him. Fearing this, I gave more of myself. Sean was experienced. I knew he wanted more. So I began giving it to him. Little by little we got more and more physical. Each prelude was his promise to stop when I felt uncomfortable and each conclusion ended with my ending it despite his pleas for more. Things were okay as long as I was compromising myself for him. We settled into a comfortable pattern. He slept over. We were together all the time. No more broken dates. No more arguments.

Then the rape happened. I found out about it from a girlfriend. A groupie had accused some of the frat guys of raping her. She was well known at the house for being a drunk and leaving with a different guy each time. The girlfriends called her a liar. She had named names and Sean and a few other guys with girlfriends were involved. They couldn’t ever prove anything. She was drunk and the brothers stuck together. I didn’t believe her. Sean wasn’t capable of that. Besides, he had me. Sean never said a word about it.

We never broke the pattern. He got moody from time to time and I’d give him more and that would pacify him for a while. Things got tense as the semester came to a close. We were going to be separated for three months and neither of us liked the idea. I was afraid he would break up with me.

It happened a week and a half before school ended. We had been at a frat party until late. On the way home we started arguing about the summer and whether we would stay together. At one point I told him that I loved him. He said I obviously didn’t, since Ididn’t have sex with him. Back at my dorm` I asked if he was going to spend the night like he always did. I started getting ready for bed and he came up and started kissing my neck. I told him Iwasn’t in the mood. It could have been hours or minutes, I’m not sure. It wasn’t violent. I remember thinking we were just going to start wrestling again. Usually a prelude to our fooling around. I didn’t see the next part coming. All I remember are the tears and begging him to at least put on a condom.

Then it was morning and Sean was asleep with his arms around me like nothing had happened. I might have attributed it to a bad dream if it weren’t for the soreness and the bruises on my arms. I lay there trying to find a reason for what had happened. Rape never crossed my mind. I blamed myself. I had brought this on. I deserved it. I teased him. I was angry at myself. It never occurred to me to be angry at Sean. I lived in a daze for the remaining days. Sean came and went. He was surprisingly loving to me after that. He didn’t even try to kiss me. He was just like he was in the first month. I tried to love him. I felt that if I had given in and had sex with him I should love him too. I forced myself to try. The small part of me that was angry at him was blacked out by the part that still remembered the "good ‘ol days". I went home for the summer. Sean called every week. I tried to talk, but I usually sat there and listened to how much he liked his job or his day at the beach.

Early in the summer, our neighbor’s daughter came to spend the summer with us. She and I became fast friends. Eventually our stories came out. She had been sexually abused by her grandfather as a child. I told her about Sean and what had happened that night. When she referred to it as rape, I tried to defend him and put the blame on myself.

"Did he give you a choice in the matter?" she asked.

I had to admit that he hadn’t. She said things that had made no sense to me until then. It didn’t matter how far we had gone in the past. It didn’t matter that I was his girlfriend. Rape was rape.

I was forced to deal with the fact that I had been raped. I stopped taking his calls. I transferred schools I spent the summer trying to get though it. I gave myself a time limit of a year. I tried counselling, but the therapist didn’t approach the subject and soon I learned how to answer her questions to her satisfaction. I built a mask. An "I-am-over-it" mask. When I told the few friends that I trusted about the rape, it was quickly followed by "but, I’m over it now." I became Super woman. I showed people that I was getting on with my life. I was strong. I was a survivor. But what they didn’t see was the nightmares that would wake me. The self-hate for blaming myself in the first place. The nausea I’d feel when I saw a program on rape or date rape. But I still had the mask and as long as I had that I was okay. The problem was, I wasn’t just masking myself from them, but from me too.

This past semester the mask had to come down. I was taking a human sexuality class that was more of a discussion period than anything. The topic of the day was rape. The teacher proposed the idea that most women cried rape after she regretted having sex with someone so that she wouldn’t feel like a slut. I couldn’t believe that the majority of the class agreed!

I left the class questioning myself. It was the nightmare all over again. Was I to blame? Why didn’t I fight harder? I had deserved it. I was sitting outside smoking and fighting back the tears and waiting for my ride when a girl from my class came out and sat beside me. "It wasn’t my fault," she whispered. "I didn’t cry rape because I regretted it." "I know," I told her. "Neither did I." Jillian has been my first friend that I can really talk to about being raped without putting on the mask. We don’t talk often, but we talk deeply.

It has been three years and I still wear the mask often. And there are still issues I need to deal with. I know in all our lives we will have constant reminders of our past. And we’ll never "be over" our experience