It Happened To Me

Chapter 3

This is the scene where the rape happens. Readers be cautious. If you are too young, do not read.

Chapter 3-the event

    So, my family is very religious. I remember my mom telling me that the first person I should have sex with should be my husband. I also recall her telling me that it is a sin to have sex with someone that is not your husband. That being said...

     One night, Mark brought his little dog to my house. I had a huge tom cat that lived with me and that I had since he was a baby. This cat and I were very close. So, Mark puts his dog in my cats face and laughs when my cat runs from it. He keeps doing it and I got mad at him. Then, when he corners my cat, he swiped at his dog and made his dog yelp in pain. Mark got so angry with him that he looked like he was about to kill my cat. I stood in front of him and told him to leave my cat alone, that it was his fault for pushing him ....etc. Mark calls me a name, gets up and leaves. Before he walks out, he says something like, "And I won't be back." So, every thing else forgotten, I begin to panic. He is leaving, he hates me, what am I going to do?" I was scared that I would lose my friend. I called and called him. He finally answered and said that he would forgive me if I came over to his house and spend the night. He said he was alone.

    In my head I was thinking if I don't do this, he is going to hate me. So, much to my regret, I lied to my mom. I begged and pleaded for her to let me go over there. I said that his mom is there and his little sister and brother are there. Please Mommy Please! I said. After an hour, she let me go. He came to get me. Once on the road, I thought about the fact that we would be alone. I got a little excited thinking maybe I hurt his feelings and maybe he loved me.

   We spent an hour or so talking and making a belt for him, then he grabbed my hand and took me to his sister's room. I thought to myself, 'This is it." We made out and felt each other up for a little bit. Then he stripped my clothes off me and without saying anything, he went down on me. My experience being very limited, I had no idea what was going on. All I remember is feeling good. Then he raised up and put himself between my legs. I put my feet on his hips to prevent him from doing what I now knew he was going to do. See, from the moment he brought me to his sister's room, he never said a word. He never smiled or really even looked at me. So when he tried to put his penis where I knew he was trying, I panicked. Nothing about that night felt right and I felt like something was wrong.

  So, I kept my feet holding him back as he kept trying to push forward. I put everything I had into holding him back and kept saying over and over, "No, no, stop, please, no." Looking back on it, I blamed myself for again not knowing and for being naked in front of him. Then, when I wasn't hiding in my closet and mumbling to myself, I realized that if a girl says "no" she means "no" and there is no excuse for his behavior.

  Back to the story. So as I am telling him no in my scared and frightened voice, he smacks my feet out of the way and plunges into my body. I scream just a second from the pain and then he pulls out and leaves the room. I lie there for I don't know how long before I hear him open the refrigerator door. In a daze, I get up and go in his bathroom. I remove the blood and go back in the room to get dressed. Completely in shock, I shuffle into the kitchen to see the makings of a sandwich on the counter. This just throws me off completely. He made a sandwich?? REALLY? No tears, no words, nothing. I just walk back into the living room and he throws some sheets at me and tells me to make up my bed-which consists of the pull out in the couch.

   So, I do so. Then climb in and go to sleep. When I wake up in the morning, we still haven't said anything about anything. He takes me home and drops me off. That was a Sunday morning. I go to church with my family and go home. All I kept hearing in my head was that Now I Am Going To Hell. I didn't want to go to hell, but any way I looked at it, I had sex with someone that I wasn't married too. So, my next thought was that we had to get married.

   I can actually recall the haze that I loved in for the longest time. Then, a few nights later, he came back to sleep on the couch. When he snuck into my room that night, I just layed there. He pulled my clothes off, and we had sex. No condom, he pulled out. I barely remember touching him. I know that we never said a word. Once he was done, I got up and took a shower, at almost two in the morning. When I got back in bed, he was on his side, his back to me, and he was asleep. I huddled on my floor at the side of my bed and I cried. I never made a sound.

   This became a nightly ritual for us. He started putting music on very softly to drown out the noises I sometimes made. My middle brother shared a wall with me, I knew he didn't want my brother to hear. When I was too loud, becomes sometimes it hurt, he would shove a pillow over my face. He always played the same CD. To this day, I cannot hear that CD without getting very upset. I didn't really respond to him anymore. I felt like a Victorian bride, doing my duty to my husband. I felt dirty and used. And so so evil. I also thought that this is what God wanted me to be doing. That God wanted me to be with the one that took my virginity.

    The more we had sex, the more stiff I became. Every once and awhile I would notice a difference. Every once and awhile he would be loving, or actually kiss me on the lips. He might hold me after or stroke my hair. I actually felt hope when he did these things. Stupid me. As the days progressed, I realized he was getting frustrated with my lack of response. Then he started getting violent. He would grab household items to put inside me. He put his knees on my stomach and put all his wieght on me and rub his knees back and forth trying to get me to yell out or to break. I never did. I looked for bruises the next day. I hoped and hoped that there would be some so I could tell someone about what we were doing, but there never was. I bruise very easily, so I thought this a sign from God that I was right where I was supposed to be. I became resigned to my fate. Then, he joined the military. Our parting was bitter sweet. He never said a word to me, except to tell me that I was going to drop him off. He left for basic training and I felt almost like a human again.