To My Attackers

Even though I cannot physically see the men who terrorized and destroyed a part of my life, I will still confront them one of the only ways I can; By writing this.
To my attacker who raped me when my friend was out for a few minutes,
I don't know why I trusted you. I don't even know why I wasn't afraid of you. Maybe it was because you were my friend's older brother. Older brothers are supposed to protect, not hurt. That's what I as a 9 year old thought at least. I hated your laugh. I hated the way you talked to me when you pinned me to the bed. I kept shaking my head, and you took that as consent. Or maybe it got you more excited. I didn't remember you till recently, you know. It was all just a vivid dream for a while. And in reality, that's all you'll be to me now. A vivid dream that I can make go away once I wake up. I made it through and now it's my turn to laugh at you.
To my attackers who raped me repeatedly when I was 9-10,
I was actually having fun that day. It was even my first day at the 'after school club' for kids whose parents were still at work. I was excited to go. And I actually had fun. Then you guys had to come and change it all for me. My classmates and their older brothers. Why did you do it? What was it about me that made you choose me? It wasn't fair. Locking the door after you forced everyone else out of the little room, looking at me like I'm some zoo animal you can pet. I didn't understand. I don't understand. You all kept cracking jokes at me for how I looked and reacted. I froze. I didn't know what was going on. I remember you laughed the most when my eyes went from confused to wide and scared. You thought that was funny. But I didn't. And I wish I could show you all what you did to a little girl, and show you what you all conditioned her to become later.
To my attacker in the woods,
You are also my cousin. You were my best friend. I was 12 and you were 13. I remember how scared and insecure you made me feel. It was Easter. You thought I was alseep in the shelter/hide out we had built. I cried when I walked home, but when you came over and asked if I was alright, I made myself stop crying and pretend like I was fine. I strongly disliked you for many years. It only became worse when you denied it all and said I was lying four years later, when I came forward with the truth to my family. But then I started to heal, and I decided to forgive you. I still do not console what you did to me, but I forgive you, and it no longer burdens me.
To my attackers who abducted me,
I still don't remember how you did it. It's still 'under development', the memory that is. I guess that's what repressing it does to you. All I remember is rolling aorund in the back of a van with my mouth duct taped and my hands tied in front of me. I rememebr one of you pulling out a mattress once we arrived at the abandoned metal construction site. It looked like an old garage. One of you carried me out of the van and threw me on the mattress. I rememeber you both raping me over and over again, looking at me with those crazed eyes. I remember feeling sick to my stomach. I thin one of you used a crowbar, but not the straight end. That hurt. Then you stopped and pulled out cigarettes and smoked over by the van, discussing how to get rid of me. I'm somewhat grateful for the arguement you both developed. It allowed me to escape quickly. I am now scared of cars driving behind me for some reason. Maybe that's how you took me. I don't know. And I might never know why you did it. I still feel sick to my stomach.
To my attacker who tortured me,
The memory of you and what you did is also still slowly resurfacing still. But what I remember terrifies me. Why would anyone do that? Why would that excite you? It wasn't even what you did to me with those surgical tools hanging over me that I remember or even fear. It is the endless screams of your other victims that I hear in the middle of the night. And it is their faces that I see when I close my eyes. I wish I knew their names. I could've maybe helped. Maybe helped their families if you hadn't dumped their bodies some unknown place. That is the worst memory. The screams. Even my screams scared me in the end. I rememebr the echo in the room, which made the screams and my screams twice as loud, terrifying.I won't get over this for a while. So if I was the only victim who escaped you, I guess you still sort of succeeded. You killed my sense of saftey and security. I don't even feel safe in my own room anymore.
To my attacker who raped me on the street,
It was because of the memory you implanted in my head that triggered all of the previous to resurface. So I guess I should thank you for that. Else I would never have understood who so little of my childhood and past seemed without context. You know, when you attacked me and pulled me into the pushes on my old street, I fought for the first time when it comes to rape. I used to freeze. I believe I almost won even. But I bet you were happy when I stopped. It hurt what you did to me, but I was more scared of you chronically damaging me internally, not emotionally. You got me pregnant too. I gave the baby a name, because I was planning on keeping her. Not for you, but for myself. But I miscarried a few months into the pregnancy. That nearly killed me. And physically it was a horrible pain to endure for hours and days. I don't know who you are and I dont know why you did it, but I don't remember you anymore. I remember the baby and the few months I had with her.

Your Victim
Brielle18 Brielle18
18-21, F
1 Response Jan 18, 2013

Oh my .. i'm sorry u all that bad things happen to u