Jennifer's Story
TRIGGER WARNING: These stories may contain explicit descriptions of rape, sexual assault, domestic violence, relationship abuse, and other forms of personal violation that may be triggering for survivors of sexual violence.
Originally published on verahouse.org - read more here.
I was 18 years old, and he was 21. He was interested in me, and he was cute. What wasn’t to like? He was my boyfriend and I trusted him. We had been dating about a month when suddenly things turned sour. I never thought my life could come crashing down around me in just one night. But it did. He had been drinking heavily and he wanted to have sex, but I said “no”. I was a virgin at the time. I just wasn’t ready yet. He wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He used force and violence to get what I wouldn’t willingly give. He held a knife to my throat and raped me repeatedly throughout the night. (He even went as far as putting the knife inside me, and throwing me into a wall.) You don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t do that to anyone! In my head, I clung to thoughts of the people in my life who I loved and anything I could think of to keep me sane. I thought he was going to kill me. There were times when I wanted him to kill me. Questions flowed through my head: “What did I do to deserve this?”, “Why me?”, “How can I get away?”, “What is he going to do next?” The next morning he drove me back to school as if nothing had happened.
I was in shock. I didn’t know what to do. I vowed never to tell anyone about what had happened. I hid the pain and the bruises hoping no one would ask, but part of me wishing that someone would notice something was desperately wrong. I buried my feelings and the pain for a year. The first anniversary of the rape came and went with sudden feelings of depression. The memories came flooding back. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. My world as I knew it shattered like a piece of glass. A month later I finally confided in a friend and cried for three hours. My secret was out. Now what? Help. I needed help in dealing with all the emotions. I put on the mask, pretending to be the “normal” Jen. I would be exhausted by the time night came and I was able to take the mask off. Eventually it became too much to handle. I needed outside help. I told two teachers who I felt could help me cope. I started therapy at school in January. I tried desperately to heal, but things just continued to get worse. I didn’t know how to control my feelings. I was upset, angry, hurt, anxious and sad. I had nightmares, couldn’t focus on my classes, and the things I enjoyed most were a now a burden. There was no end to the pain. I eventually told my mother about what had happened. It felt good to not be hiding it anymore. I wanted nothing but to be normal and happy again...