Life As a Loner

Chapter 3

Author Note: This Chapter may trigger SA (sexual assault) readers. So please read at your own discretion.

PTSD
I was just pushing 10 years old when I was raped. I knew who it was who raped me, what I stuck in my head about was "why?". From that one small moment to many years of pain, anger, aggression, frustration, confusion, depression, anxiety, and PTSD.
And before you say "everyone has ptsd". No, my PTSD, depression and anxiety was diagnosed by a licensed psychiatrist.
So yeah, I was raped by a man who I trusted, by a man who I felt like was my real father. I was angry for a long time. The worst part is: he did it while he was on drugs so he does not remember what happened that early November morning.
He put me in choke hold, nearly cutting my esophagus from the oxygen repeating himself "take off your clothes", I kept shaking my head and after hold me in a chokehold for nearly what felt like 3 mins, I was pretending to act like I was dead. Hoping for him to notice how lifeless my body was looking until, I couldn't hold the act for long and then I cried and sobbed as I took off my underwear. He made me give him oral, held my head down while I cried and bit down. Him reply with pain from my bite and he smacked the back of my head. He pushed me on the bed, raped me and told me not to tell anyone, that "this could be our little secret". So I agreed to get the asshole to shut up. I mean, fuck he already raped me once and tried to kill me before he got the chance so why would I care?
The day went by, my sister soon got home from school, hungry and her father asked her what she would like so she said "McDonald's", so we went with the pedophile.
At this point, I wasn't going to tell my sister what her father did to my body. I kept thinking to myself: "If I tell Vanessa and she fights with him, he will kill her or god forbid rape her too." So I kept my word by keeping quiet.
We go, eat, go home and stay home. My mom arrives with groceries. Walks in out her, keys in her right side pocket of her scrub top, "I have bags, can someone come help". I take the first chance I get, "I'll go." I go out and as we are walking I tell my mom. She puts me in the back seat of the Dark Blue, Toyota Corolla. My mom walks inside, I remain in the car. My sister, Vanessa, soon gets in on the front passenger seat, it's quiet.
I got nervous started overthinking. What if he hits her? What if she kills her? What if he hurts her? What if he rapes her too?
My mom and him come out, "I put this on you?" he questioned me as if he didn't know while holding the red tube of spermicide in his hand. I try to hold back my tears. "Yes, yes you did." I exclaim. He was gaslighting me, he fucking knew it. "You liar!" He yells and I begin crying and screaming "I'm not LYING" I cry and sob merciful. My mom pushed him away. He walks away.
He ends up taking off in his truck and Mami ends up taking me to the hospital. And with each retelling of the story, I cried and sobbed. I felt violated. I felt upset and frustrated because I trusted this man and how can he just feel okay with himself by raping me.
The officers soon responded and entered my Emergency Room, they took pictures of my neck (I had bruising from him choking me, nearly killing me). Unknown to me those pictures that they took will soon lose their way in to Evidence.
Yeah, I was okay physically. Mentally, oh bloody hell, I was triggered every second. I had a lot of shit on my mind.
My mom informed me a few months ago that my sister's biological father was a crackhead. No, not metaphorically, an actual living and breathing crackhead.
My sister told me that when she was in school back in high school, he had called her and she angrily answered the phone call. And she pressed him and yelled at him over the phone "don't you remember what you did?" All he could say was "I don't know what you are talking about" burping between his sentence. My sister hung up.

Fast Forward to today (2/11/2022) 11.2.22

I am a lot better than my flashback, my story and my trauma. I have not let my trauma become me. After my rape, I was very angry. It took me 4 years to figure shit out and get my mind right. After my rape, my mom took my so see therapists and psychiatrists to see what she could do to make me feel better. I was soon diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and PTSD.

Till this very day, I do struggle with PTSD but it wasn't as bad as it was before when I was little, I used to have full blown panic attacks, so bad that they soon turned into tantrums. My paranoia is mainly still around. I get paranoid when it comes to certain things.

As a female, I dealt with a lot of different sexual harassment. As a latina, I struggle with the consent questions "So you are thick, right?", "you have a big ass, right?" or, "damn, you thick asf" truth is, I also deal with self esteem issues due to the fact I don't want history to repeat itself. I've blocked so many people, whether they asked for nudes, sexted me, etc.

Truth is, I am antisocial because I know the risks of socialize in a society that all people do is sexualize things, clothing, etc. I don't socialize because all people want is pussy, ass, tits and dick. I don't want that for me. I want people who are going to be real with me.

I've seen the red flags before. Some people classify red flags as "flaws". Not me, I can accept someone's flaws, but what I won't accept is you can be there for a child throughout their life and still find it "okay" to have sex with a child. I will not accept that.

Sincerely,
The Loner