Rape is unlike any other force. Its something thats unlike depression or anger, unlike a mental disorder. It doesn't just "sink in." You have the initial response, the fear, the disgust, the GUILT. Because it was your fault, too. Thats how you see it, because you can't see it any other way. It was your fault, too. You could have done something. You could have fought or...anything. And you LIE to yourself. Its not just him...its you. Rape is unlike anything, because it is a haunting. After the initial response, the terror, the horror, you push it away. You "get over it." And at first...it seems to work. You can forget all about it. It SEEMS as if a normal life is ahead of you...it was just a small thing you could work over. It could have been worse. WRONG. There IS no way it could have been worse unless you were left with the SPAWN of that fucker. It was SICK. You'll be fine, and then out of nowhere, out of NOWHERE, at ANY time, days, weeks, months, even YEARS the memory will sneak up behind you and it will bring it all rushing back. ALL OF IT. And you are left with that SAME feeling, those initial feelings, only...worse. Because you look back and you realize how its affected you. You look back and see how this little thing, this thing you thought you could make insignificant changed your life, pulled the strings behind your actions, your thoughts; how this entire experiance changed YOU and you didn't even see it happen. You become a recluse, slowly, but surely. Suddenly, touch, a hug, is so much more uncomfortable and you have no idea why. You don't like people quite so much; they are so hard to trust. Why? Rape. Rape. Rape is beyond the violation of your body but is the mutilation of one's soul. And no one will ever know. Your rapist would not know. The people you talk about would not know, but they would try to sympathize at best. It is an experiance that shakes your core and sets you off-balance without you seeing it until far later, and you lament on it. I still feel him, touching me, TOUCHING ME THERE. And I HATE that part of my body. I HATE IT. Everytime I change underwear, or shower, or even sitting a certain way where I am aware of that part I HATE IT. I want to STAB it, to mutilate it. It was mutilated already...I was mutilated by a knife called a penis. Make it even. I want to tear that part of me right off, right out. I hate that part of me. I hate my womanhood. I hate being touched. I hate being kissed. And you feel GUILTY for hating it, because its not fair to the person touching and kissing you. They mean no harm; they actually might care for you. And you smile and fake it, hoping to make them happy but all you can think about is RAPE. Its there in those moments that were meant to be sweet. And you know its meant to be sweet. You know. But you can't let it be. All you feel is disgust, uncomfort; you don't trust them. You become horribly aware. You feel VIOLATED. Just with the wrong person. Its not fair that they have to suffer because of what scum has done to you...but you are damaged. Damaged. My story is one of a woman who loved a man so that she was raped by him, and then forgave him. Not only forgave him, but let her violate her again, and again, and again. It was never quite as far as the first time, but touching and little whatnots. And everytime I felt worse and worse. He would just force himself upon me, and I would comply, because i DIDN'T want him to think I was overexaggerating. I didn't want to be damaged. What a fool I was. What a FOOL. I was damaged the minute he forced me down. He was so pleased, as well. "I can't believe how fast you got over it." He said with a smile, and I smiled right back, feeling worse than a *****. I still feel like a *****, but I realize now that it wasn't just me. He WAS forcing me. I just made his job easier. And therefore, I suppose it was my fault as well. Not the first time, but the others, the countless others. I think that might be why him leaving me affected me so badly. I let him violate me countless times, and he took it and left. I was taken advantage of by someone I loved, and he left. I guess touching and not plowing wasn't enough for him. I guess rape wasn't enough for him. Yet, I can not break free from the kind man I fell in love with from the first time, even though I can obviously see the evil that lies behind that man. Perhaps it is the power he holds over me. Perhaps it is the illusion I fell for, perhaps I'm hoping he'll come back to his old self. Either way, it doesn't matter. For it could never happen, and now I'm too far gone to ever feel normal when touched again. And the whole time, I thought I would be ok. I thought I had actually gotten over it, that suppression had turned it into extinction. Oh, what a fool am I. What a fool I truly am.