I'll Spare You the Details
I'm not going into the details, I never really have. The family didn't and still doesn't know, just a couple of very good friends that I can trust. I was raped by strangers when I was 15, I don't even remember their faces, just the smell of Budweiser on their breath. I was really religious at the time and I didn't know much about sex. It was obviously traumatic. Because I believed in God, I begged for him to intervene and stop what was happening.(he didn't) After it was over(like it's ever over) I did the usual clensing and blaming myself and all that. Fate would have it that the very next day would start my week at my churches "camp miracle." The first night at camp me and my fellow teen campers sat around a bonfire while people took turns standing at a microphone confessing sins or giving testimony of how god worked in their lives.
A girl got up and told of how she had been raped as a child and how god had given her the strength to forgive her attacker and so on. This gave me an idea and without really thinking, I stood up to give testimony. I wanted to tell what god didn't do for me the night before, but when it got to the point in the story when I was attacked, I lied. I said the men didn't do what they wanted, that god helped me get away. When I put down the mic, sobbing, everybody applauded. They believed me! For years I believed the lie I told that night. I believed that god made my lie true, that he took that event away, erased it and replaced it with the memory of me getting away. Although I know the truth, as a part of me has all along, the lie did help me through some years that I might not have otherwise survived.
After all these years, I am somewhat well adjusted considering... but it has always angered me that I never remembered their faces. I'm still not sure whether I would have ever told if I did, but at least I could have a face to hate.