FoxIII on... Being a rape-ee

That's rape-ee (someone who has been raped) not rapist (someone who rapes others!)

Thought I needed to put that in, you never know, but then, if you are reading this then you are not that stupid.

I know that it's been a looooooooooooong time since I last put anything on my blog, but that's cos I keep forgetting it's there (don't we all?). Anyhoo...

So I thought (as I'm in that sort of mood) that I would talk about something that has been on my mind for, well, nearly 16 years now...

Between the age of 11 and 16, I was raped nearly every single day; barring xmas, new year and easter. Yes, even on my birthday I was raped.

So what's it like? For those that have never been raped, saying 'you have no idea' seems a bit cliche. But then, I guess that's right. Okay, so what's it REALLY like to be raped?

Imagine. You are 11 years old. You are not really popular - you don't have any friends - and then someone in your primary class starts being your friend. You are all excited. I mean, why not? This is your first time of a friendship! You'll do anything to have a friend. So they ask you to meet up with them after tea; which you agree to. You end up talking about crap, nothing in particular, just your normal 11 year old stuff. Apparently not. The conversation went along the lines of sex. It wasn't an option for me. Not because I didn't want it. I could get, well, excited, but it wasn't the most important thing in my life. I was 11 years old after all.

Anyway, the conversation, from my point of view was completely innocent. I was brought up to be open minded, and it was something I agreed with (WAY to strong minded to be dragged into a view I don't believe in; even at that age, but more on that later).

So... 50 yards up the road from my house was this steep path down to a stream which led into fields. Once we got down to the stream, he (and if anyone reads this and is interested in a name, I am MORE than willing to give this out). Anyhoo, for reference, this is based in Cornwall, UK. Whatever. So we are down at the stream, well out of the sight of any houses, etc., and the conversation, once again, lead to the whole 'sex' subject. Obviously, he had a particular "thought" in mind. I never picked up on it. Before I knew what was happening, he had hold of my arm and was forcing me to touch his (already 'hard' member) which, okay, I will admit, was not horrible, but was definitely weird. I thought he was WAY to young to be even considering such thoughts, let alone actually doing something about them.

This then led to him either forcing me to come to his house - remember, he was in my class at school. Unfortunately for me, he was even in most of my classes at secondary school (11 years +). He was popular enough to have me beaten every day that I did not agree to me going over his place, or coming over to mine. He acted SO nice in front of my mother that she didn't even have a clue.

How come my mother didn't have a clue? I came from a good family. My parents loved me. My sister and I argued and fought all the time. Nothing weird. No divorce, no mysteries. But the only way I could cope with it; the rape, that is, was to supress my feelings. My emotions. My parents, which I don't blame WHATSOEVER!, thought I was just being a 'typical' teenager.

I think the worst was being up in my bedroom, after my mother had answered the front door, letting this 'kid' in; being happy that I had a 'friend'; and being raped. Knowing that my mother was downstairs not even knowing a thing what I was going through upstairs.

But without dragging the story on for a daily basis for 5 years, I'll cut the story short. I now have foreskin that won't pull down because it was forced by 'him' and ended up splitting and now is too narrow to 'draw back' and the other side (yes...) was also 'damaged' due to him. Remember, I wasn't fully developed! That's what I put it down to anyhoo. He wasn't the biggest in the world, but he wasn't small either. Just enough.

The worst was when I left his place and had to run home with my foreskin half way down my shaft, bleeding. Just because I had to get away. When I got back, I had to go to the bathroom immediately and, well guess...

I tried saying no, but as I mentioned above, if I didn't I was bullied as he was popular enough to 'order' such things. Even though I was bullied anyway, but... I don't know; perhaps I was wrong. Maybe if I just put up with the bullying and said no, he would have got bored eventually, but the bullying if I didn't do it was too much to cope with.

Jumping 5 years on from this point (I'm 21 by this point), my mother is taking me to work as I didn't want to go and she 'insisted' that I go and, so, was taking me (you know what mothers are like? Right?) I ask her to pull over. I must have sounded serious because she pulled into the next layby. I said that I had something to tell her, and she was all angry and 'stressy' because she was thinking I was going to come up with some pathetic excuse as to why I didn't want to go to work. I did, but I was going through problems at the time (oh, I'm also bipolar. REALLY doesn't work together with surpressing emotions).

Man I wish I could talk to someone IN PERSON about this. Someone who can offer some advice, or not, just someone who I can trust and feel comfortable with. So I'm going off on a tangent. Let me continue...

So we're in this layby and I'm sitting there staring out of the windscreen and, obviously, I start stuttering. Eventually I tell her that I was raped. What I actually said was;

"I was raped. Nearly every day. For 5 years."

My mother, who seemed 'scarily' calm, asked who it was. So I told her. That was it. She just broke down. I had never seen my mother SO distraught in my life and I didn't even know what to do. (Fuck, I thought I would have been over this by now, but need a little break...)

Right, back. (4 mins, btw). So my mother is crying (for want of a much strong word) that she can barely breath. I'm just sitting there. No emotions. Nothing. She asked me if I actually cared about what had happened and I told her that I had I've had time to come to terms with it (a total lie. I'm 31 now and still I haven't come to terms with it. The nightmares...).

Then she opened up to me once she had calmed down a bit. I found out that my sister had also been raped. That's when I broke down. Break...

Sorry for the break there.

If I had known about what had happened to my sister, I would never have told my mother. I really didn't want to say anything, but I was going through a really bad time and needed to tell someone who cared. I didn't have any friends to tell and a shrink just doesn't 'wing it'. I was going to have a chat with my sister about it and I'm glad I didn't.

Anyhoo, I won't go into my mothers' problems as that's her personal life and shouldn't be written here. I will say, however, my mother didn't cope too well. She told my sister who, also, didn't take it too well. My dad, when he found out, wanted to just go around and kill him, but he was talked out of it saying something along the lines of "he's not worth going to prison for" or something (I wasn't there at the time.

It's amazing. I have lived knowing that my parents have always been there to support me, but I also know that they are not proud of me. I have never achieved anything in life. Every time I try and 'better' myself, it comes back and it's like taking 1 step forward and two steps back. But I try. Just for my family.

I don't know what else to say. Apart from the 'blokes' name that raped me. His name is Adam Hawker.