Creative Writing · Depression · Disordered Eating · Healing · Personal · Poetry · Survivor · Thriver · TW:Rape Sexual Assault · Writing

On The Day I Was Raped

TW: Rape, Sexual Assualt, ED


The day I was raped I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a baggy gray hoodie. It was after school and I was at a friend’s house up the street from where I lived.

The day I was raped was a normal day. I went to school. I rode the bus home with friends. I wasn’t dressed up and I wasn’t alone.


Except there was a new guy. A friend of a friend from out of town. He was 19 and I was 16 and he seemed so much older. So cool.


In the basement of that house I sat on a bed with my friends and the stranger. I had been to that house many times before.


It was a normal day.


My friend liked that boy but the boy liked me so the three of us started kissing. Until it was just two.

My jacket got unzipped and his hands were up my shirt. I liked it but knew I needed to stop. I needed to go home.


On the day I was raped I had boundaries. I felt safe. I was with friends. I liked kissing boys but I was a virgin. I wanted to stay a virgin. I playfully took his hands off me.


I said, “I need to go.”

He slammed me down and I thought he was playing. I laughed but he wouldn’t let me up.


He was 19 and I was 16. He was over 6 feet tall and strong. I lay there in my sick and malnutritioned 100 lb body. I tried. I tried so hard but he held me down with little effort.


I started to cry. I begged him to stop. “Please stop. I need to go home. I need to go home. Please don’t do this.”


I was so polite in pleading with my rapist.


In one quick movement his hand reached at the top of my pants and he pulled my pants and panties to me feet.


It was so fast I remember thinking. I remember thinking “he’s not going to stop.”


I felt heat rise in my body. I covered my face, full of shame and embarrassment.  I lay there legs forced open and pants around my ankles.

I pleaded again, even though I knew he was not going to stop.


I let my body go weak. My hands still covered my face and I openly sobbed while he penetrated me. 


I waited.


After some time I felt his weight lift slightly off me and I took the opportunity. I readily rolled off that bed.

Pants only half on, I ran up the stairs and out the door to my laughing friends smoking in the driveway.


I kept running.

My girlfriend ran after.


I don’t remember what I said.

I don’t remember the next couple of days.


I do know that when I got home I took a shower that seemed to last for eternity but could not truly cleanse me.


Inside the walls of the shower I wept great despair until I was numb and the pain in my chest turned hollow, until the shower ran cold and the only thing left was exhaustion and confusion.


On the day I was raped I learned that I was not safe, even among friends. That the world was a dangerous place and would do whatever it could to me. I spent the next decade blaming and hating myself.


I allowed men to take from me. I endured abuse and accepted that the lies and betrayal were my life. I deserved this and I deserved to be raped.


I never told anyone this story, but after a few years I did admit to some that it happened, but that I was lucky. It was not that bad. I lived and that other people had it so much worse…


It was the story I desperately wanted to believe and be true.


I did not want to be a victim, but I saw my already wavering trust in others broken. I lived in continuing suspicion and on this untold story.


I write these words with fear and trepidation. At age 28, finally being able to speak it out loud.


I was raped. 

I was raped.


There is power in the admittance and I know that it is my story and I have the right to tell it. To own it. To understand and be free of it, but I had to face it. I had to look at the ugliness and feel all the shame and guilt that I put off expressing all these years. It was easier to pretend it never happened.


But it did happen and I accept it. I accept it now in order to heal and move on.


On the day I was raped many things were stolen from me, my trust in others and my innocence. My childhood ended on this day; but this boy, this day could not take everything from me. Not my spirit, my integrity, my compassion, my love for living beings and nature and now I will no longer allow it to take my joy and happiness.

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