Rape - my number is 3

Yesterday I read, College Girls entry on rape. I found it harrowing and extremely thought provoking. I too have been raped. I thought I had dealt with it years ago, but it seems I'd merely brushed it aside and buried it deep in denial. Her post dragged me kicking and screaming back to its graveside, where I was forced to unearth a plethora of forgotten sorrows

I was 16, having trouble at home, moved to a new town, without friends and subsequently got in with the wrong crowd. The lowlifes crowded in, swept me away, took advantage of my naivety and used the wedge between myself and my parents to draw me into the depths of their dark world.

Young and lost I hooked up with a really bad sort. He let me down one night, which just happened to coincide with me buying a bottle of Malibu, a bottle of vodka and some other spirit. I'd just been paid and bought them to put away for Christmas. I went to look for him, taking the Malibu with me and stashing the other two bottles under a hedge.

I drank and drank. I don't remember how much, it was over 20 years ago now. But at 16 I was not used to drinking, didn't know my limits, or its effects. I remember drinking it neat. I was angry. Angry at him, angry at me, angry at the world. I remember searching the village for him, walking the streets for hours and hours. I remember asking people if they'd seen him. Nobody had. It was an important night, I don't know why now, but at the time I was devastated by his absence, the way only an immature teenager can be.

I remember drinking some more. Then meeting two boys I knew, talking to them, asking if they'd seen him. Then falling, not just ordinary falling, not crumpling into a heap. But a stiff, straight, hit by a road truck BANG. If you've been there, you'll know what I mean. If not, then please don't try it! I remember them laughing, helping me up, falling again, staggering off in confusion. They wouldn't help me, daren't talk to me, in case 'he' found out.

Next I'm in a supermarket car park, I've somehow ended up around the back of the building. I've been sick. I have puke all over my clothes. I'm in a bad way. I speak to a boy I know, he's younger than me, not much, but at 16 a couple of years seems like a decade. Time has erased his name now, or maybe I have? I pass out again, the same way, the sort of collapse that comes from nowhere, the violent drunken punch that sneaks up behind you and whacks you out without warning. I have never been that drunk again, ever, and I never will. Nor have I tasted Malibu since.

I'm on the floor, passed out. I come to, strange sensations, trousers being pulled down, I pass out again. Reawaken, someone laying on top of me, rough muffled movements, the movements that signal only one thing. But I'm comatose, incapable of protecting myself. I slip into unconsciousness again. I don't know how long it lasted, but I remember coming too, alone. My muddied trousers around my ankles. I picked myself up in a surreal motion, my brain unable to process the events.

Memories are hazy now, luckily time has rounded the corners, weakened the details. The next moment I remember is finding 'him' with a gang. He knew what had happened to me, apparently the boy had been bragging about the event. 'He'd' set up a vigilantly group in an attempt to hunt down the boy.

They went about their business and I was left at his house, in the 'care' of another boy. When everyone had gone, he raped me too. Again I was unconscious. Again I awoke, but this time I was frightened and welcomed the blackness when it re-engulfed me.

The next day I was dragged along with the vigilantly group, the local policeman stopped us and enquired on our intentions.

'He' informed the policeman, "We're looking for x, he raped my girlfriend."

"Really?" the copper retorted.

"Yeah, she was drunk an' he raped her last night." he explained.

The copper looked me up and down with disdain, then dismissively spat, "You shouldn't get drunk then should you love." Turned, got into his squad car and drove off.

I was devastated, up until that point there had never been any doubt in my mind that I was an innocent victim. That I had been violated and raped. But with that single statement, that man in such high authority, did more damage than a thousand rapists could ever have done.

The next few days were black. 'He' told me to pull myself together, get some make-up on, while his friends sniggered behind him. I did as I was told. Some months later I left him, he slit his wrists. I stayed a little longer, but eventually broke free. Many years later he hung himself. I celebrated with champagne, good riddance to bad rubbish. Cruel but true, one down.....................

For a long time after, probably years, I plotted my revenge. One of the rapists rode a motorcycle, I planned to clip his back wheel, throw him into the road, then drive over his body in my car. It never came to anything. Life goes on, my life went on, regardless.

But I was still troubled for many years by that night and the following days events. I cried many rivers, but it never made me feel any better. They hurt me, they took something very precious away from me. It still affects me to this day, lurking in the shadows of my mind, encouraging feelings of guilt and shame when I initiate power struggle sex. Which is strange, as there was no struggle during these attacks.

There are certain things that I can't come to terms with regarding these incidents. I was drunk. I shouldn't have been drinking, it was illegal, it was wrong. Therefore it was my fault? But, I couldn't fight them off, I was unconscious. I couldn't say "No", I was unconscious. So it couldn't be my fault? My head spins around and around. I know it wasn't my fault. I know it was rape. But I still feel ashamed. I still feel guilty. Thankfully not angry any more, but just saddened.

I'm going through a lot of introspection at the moment, mostly due to writing this blog. This rape incident has reared it's ugly head several times in my life and now I feel its finally time to perform its exorcism. Goodbye and thank you. Raping me made me who I am, without it I would be someone else. For that I thank you, because I like who I am now.

And if by any miraculous coincident you, my attackers, are reading this, then I'd just like to say, that I forgive you. I realise that you were young too, in a time when views were different. And if our paths ever do cross in the future, I'd like you to bear this in mind as my fingers tighten slowly around your throat.

Oh, almost forgot, number three was my ex-husband, but that's another story and not one I can be bothered with today.

P.S. On a brighter note, I'm off on holiday for a week on Monday, so may not be able to post, or answer your comments. And we're off to a swinging club on Saturday yippee!! I'll tell you all about it when I can ;o) sns xxx