How does one write these things down? I wasn’t going to talk about it here. I didn’t see the point in airing my grief and vulnerabilities for the world to pick apart. Reading a few things on Twitter have made me decide to put it all out there though.
I know one day my children could stumble upon this. I hope both my son and daughter learn from this.
I had spent the week before trying desperately to find validation in Thomas. We had gotten in a nasty argument about a little bit of wine and I had ended it. Me being me, at the time week and thinking I needed a partner to keep my head held high, begged and pleaded him to come back. Romeo was all to quick to try and fill the voids Thomas left. He sent me flowers twice in one week to my work.
It was a gradual break down. Nights spent crying on the phone to R about T. T staying firm on the fact we were done. R playing supporter. It was terrable. My first mistake was feeling I needed validation from anyone other then myself.
I was so desperate to please Thomas and get him back I neglected my self respect. I went to a movie, with the hopes he would want me if I played like a good girl.
I wore what he wanted. I listened to him tell me it wouldn’t work, but I thought if he saw me it would be different. It was not. He still refused me.
When I returned home the house was empty. I sat on the deck and sobbed for letting myself hope.
Romeo knew I had went to the movie. I had told him it would probably end badly but that I had to try. He was quick to call and play supportive. While we spoke I choked on my tears as I drank the last bit of wine I had left, about a quarter of a glass.
He said all the right things, that rang hollow. He offered to come over and I remember thinking anything has to be better then this pain. Turns out there are worse things then rejection.
As I type I feel myself begin to shake. I know I don’t need to write this out but it’s important I have it laid out. It’s hard to go back, but I want my loved ones to know. I want my kids to one day see I’m strong and how I have changed.
When Romeo arrived he had a huge bottle of wine. He set it down and said he was going to put his phone charger in my room. I followed him.
The deck door was open. The wine was on the counter. My phone was outside.i didn’t expect him to push me down. I wasn’t prepared for the rough hands that tried to get inside of me, through my dress. He was rough, and it hurt.
In that moment I had two options, stop him and walk out, facing potential conflict and him physically attempting to hold me back, or try to maintain some control. I picked the second option. Of course at the time these choices were not so clear. It’s only in playing events over and over in my mind I’ve been able to see things more clear. I wish I could go back and do it over, but in that moment I stood up from the bed where I had been pushed, bent over on my stomach, and I took off the dress. Maybe if I give him what he wants he will stop.
It was like a live wire. He bit me, he rolled me around as if I were a object. At one point he called me a little slut. I held on and hoped like hell he would finish so it would be done. It’s the only time in my life I had fakes a orgasm.
When he finished he asked me to clean him off. I said no. He continued to ask. I refused. When he went to shove himself in my face he fell off the bed. When he was on the ground I stood up and put the soiled dress back on. I remember my legs were shaking.
More self blame when looking back. At this point why didn’t I have him leave? Mostly because it was night and he is also blind and i still try to be empathetic even after what happened. So he stayed.
He kept filling my wine. I didn’t drink more then half a glass. So in total that day I had about 3 quarters of a glass. He drank the rest of the bottle.
At one point my friend Zen came over and we all had dinner. She had noticed how aggressive he was becoming the more he drank, grabbing me and moving me places instead of asking. At one point she even told him to back off.
When she left I had started to tremble. I said I was cold. I’m not sure looking back at it if that was why.
I had told him I was going to bed as I was cold. He followed me in. I told him he needed to sleep in the other room but he lingered. I told him just cuddles. He didn’t listen. It wasn’t long before his hands were down my pants. I kept very still. Then my pants were off and he was between my legs. I still kept still. He bit me multiple times, and each time I said stop. The last time he bit me I put my hands on either side of his head and pushed it back. Stop fucking biting me! I had said.
Somehow this turned in to him flipping me from my back to my stomach. At one point he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I yelled ow. Then my body decided the rest.
It was at this point I started to shake. I told him to stop. He kept trying to move me. He pulled me closer. Again I told him to stop. I need you to just be still. I put my head on his chest in attempts to get comfort but he kept moving his hands.
I got up and went to the bathroom. I locked the door. I sat with my head in my hands attempting to stop shaking and regain control.
When I came out I told him he needed to go in the other room. It took me 10 minutes of back and forth before he left. He said he was doing it for me.
In the silence of my room tears slid down my face for a entirely new reason. I began to shake again. I listened to fhe sounds of the house, scared he would come to my door. It took me hours to fall asleep and I don’t think I ever really did.
The next morning I woke up early, but laid in my room until I heard my mom get up. I put cereal in two bowls. I made two coffees. I felt like a robot. I took the food outside. When I approached his room I stood outside the door.
Food is outside I said. Come here he said. I hesitantly stepped in a few steps. My parents are up I said. He stood up and pulled me in for a kiss. I pulled back, stepping back. Again I told him food was outside and left the room.
On the deck I put my spoon to my mouth. Over and over, chew, swallow, don’t talk. When I finished I looked at him. What happened last night was not okay. I’m not okay. I began to cry. He said he felt terrable because he was hung over, and that he didn’t remember.
He got up and walked in front of me. He grabbed my head and kissed me. Then put my head on his shoulder. Limply my arms came up for a hollow embrace. He scruffs my hair like I’m a object, he says I’ll be okay, and leaves.
It’s not until that night I break down while at my friends place. It’s not until the next morning I decide to call and report it.
A week later a chunk of my front tooth falls out from the impact of them clicking together from the force of either his hair pulling or his initial push down on rhe bed.
A few months later I am informed by the police that they can not do anything as he refuses to speak to them. I am appalled by this.
While I was giving my statement I was asked why I didn’t get up and walk away. I was told that some men just need clear directions. These things were said to me while I sat trembling on the bed where it happened, after already being questioned at the station doe 2 plus hours.
Somehow on the drive from the station to home it went from victim to victim blaming.
These are the reasons I have not contacted victim services again to see if there has been any progress. So much time has passed I don’t know if it would do any good.
It still impacts me. He my partner is to forceful, or if he pushes my head to hard, if I do it from behind and if I’m not in the mind set for it. When I’m feeling insecure and don’t like what I see in the mirror.
The point to reliving this is to tell anyone who reads that rape is not black and white. There is no shame in feeezing up to protect yourself. The shame is in our so called justice system. The lack of empathy and understanding, the ignorance and victim blaming, its disgusting.
I would like to close this off by saying dont be afraid to say no, but I can’t. I know how it feels to be held captive to fear. The only thing I can say in full confidence is to NEVER seek validation in anyone other then yourself. Someone could hand you the moon but if you don’t feel your worthy of it you will never be able to hold it.
Always remember you are strong. You are beautiful. You are enough just as you are.