Before reading on read this first:
WARNING: This article contains intense subject matter such as rape and violent sexual assault.
It may include triggers for some.
To properly tell this story I have to backtrack a bit. So let us rewind to adhere to some perspective.
The Back Story
I met him in middle school when some (including me) were new to the class and didn’t know much of anyone. We had a strict History teacher, but they didn’t call it that at the middle school level. To us it was “Social Studies” class. One day this teacher went off on him for what seemed like nothing, causing him to cry. He wept right there in his seat in front of the whole class. Everyone felt bad for him. Even I felt bad at the time.
From there, a friendship began. It was never a close friendship but, one of acquaintances – the usual “hi” and “bye”. He had a lot of the same friends that I did. This continued on until we went to high school.
The Next Stage is Set in Motion
When high school started up the friendship drifted further apart even though we still had mutual friends. One night though, we ended up in the same place. A group of my friends along with his were all out together at one of our many hangouts. We walked everywhere back then. No one had cars. We were still too young.
The Darkest Night
As the night drew on, my friends started leaving one by one. I figured I’d better get home too. It was getting late and my grandfather would kick my ass if I got in after ten on a school night. My best friend Brian proposed that if I stayed a half an hour later he could walk me home. I couldn’t wait that long. I was about to get the axe from my gramps. My friend Violet overheard the conversation and volunteered to walk me home along with her cousin Gina. I thought, okay I’m set, nothing to worry about – until I heard another voice.
“I’ll walk her home.” he said. Even then it sounded so strangely out of place. Everyone got quiet. I felt a brief and sudden uneasiness. My friend Violet must’ve picked up on it because she insisted upon still tagging along with her loud but lovable cousin Gina. I felt awkward but I knew I had to pick up the pace and start swiftly heading home.
We all set off for what was about a thirty minute walk. I noticed as we were heading down the long stretch of road he was starting to walk beside me. My friends were starting to walk farther ahead. I became increasingly uncomfortable with each minute that dragged by. Something in me just whispered that this was all wrong but, I was terribly naïve at the time. I kept shrugging off what my intuition was now trying to scream at me.
I had a gold ring on my finger that I grabbed from the drawer of my nightstand earlier in the day. It was my grandfather’s and he said I could keep it because it no longer fit. This person I once thought was kind used this as a tool. He asked if he could see it. When I said I wouldn’t take it off, he took my hand and tried to put it down his pants. When I said “no” he persisted. He kept getting more and more sexually aggressive.
While this continued, I looked on to my friends who were now quite far ahead. After I said “no” about seven times he finally stopped. I yelled out to my friend Violet. She said she was going to turn off now because we were getting close to her way home. I still had a long distance to walk. My uncomfortable feelings now turned into fear. The fear mounted and was very soon after accompanied by panic as we neared a building that he was forcing me toward.
The building was an old Knights of Columbus. Everybody in town knew no one would search for you should there be screaming or something you didn’t want anyone to know going on. It was a small, ashy-red building with a decent sized square of asphalt around it. There was a small chain link fence around the perimeter covered by vines. The highway was directly across from it. He must’ve known it was the perfect place because there were always so many cars, trucks, and busses whizzing by that no one would ever hear if I cried out for help.
He proceeded on to try and force my head down by his genitals that he had very quickly exposed. I was a virgin at the time and was so crippled by fear. I was in the true definition of shock. The kind of shock someone goes into when witnessing something incredibly violent. My insides were numb. He forced me to give him oral sex. I was so terrified I couldn’t move. I struggled to get away. Everything was becoming violent now. So much of it all is a blur because I’ve blocked pieces of it out. They are locked deep within my psyche. Still, I remember he did succeed somewhat. He was attempting to rape me after that. He was ripping at my pants trying hard to pull them down as I thrashed to get away. He was gripping at my hips so hard I later had bruises. He never did get a chance to enter me, though, he sure as hell tried. He almost accomplished his goal but was interrupted by two people walking by on the other side of the building.
Cries That No One Heard
He seemed defeated after that. As soon as I was out of sight I ran home. While I was running I noticed what a mess I was. My clothes were all shredded from the struggle. I had cuts all over my body from the rocks, vines, and broken glass. I cried the entire way there.
When I got in my grandfather freaked. I was late. I looked like I’d just been mauled by an animal – in a way, that is half truth. I did my best to lie and explain it away. I knew if I told him right then and there he would have killed him. I didn’t want my grandfather to go to jail because of some scum.
I later told my friend Brian what happened through a series of Instant Messages. He said he and the boys would beat the shit out of this guy. The next day Brian asked me a bunch of questions and wanted to know every detail. It started to seem like he didn’t believe me. In a way, I didn’t blame him because every one that knew this jerk thought he was a kind person. Hell, I even thought it at one time. People trusted him.
It wasn’t long before word got out around school. In fact, it happened that very next day. People started turning on me. No one believed me. Even my own friends all started interrogating me. I must’ve had to tell the same filthy, upsetting details over twenty times. My own closest friends started having their doubts. A few did stick by me in the long run.
The rumors got so uncontrollable and traveled so far that a police officer called me into the office at school. He asked me a series of questions. I had to tell the entire story over again one more vomit-inducing time. He then explained I could press charges if I wanted to. I went into how if my own friends and most of the school didn’t believe me, how would a jury? I just couldn’t go through with it. I felt sick. I just wanted it to be over. My mental health was definitely starting to suffer. The officer assured me that he’d still be there should I change my mind.
The very next day the scum’s cousin came up to me while I was out with some of my friend’s after school. He pulled me aside and said “If you squawk this to anyone, bitch…especially the cops, we’ll fucking erase you.” I knew he meant it. I still know he was serious and probably still would. So just like that I dropped it. I never forgot, though. Oh no, something like that night stays with you for the rest of your life.
The Messy Aftermath & A New Beginning
I still had to see the scum in school. It made the rest of my high school years partial hell. I refused to let it run my life, though. Each day I got a little stronger. Still, some part of me wishes I’d reported it, mostly because, about three months later, he did it to three more girls. One of them he full-on raped. All three of them were my friends. When word got out about those incidents, suddenly everyone believed my story, and justifiably so.
Didn’t I tell you? I’m the girl that didn’t cry wolf.
Names were changed to protect the identities of old friends.
 trigger: In psychological terms, this means something that sets a person off. It could be (but is not limited to) an object, an event, a place, or even another person.
This form of the word is most commonly used in treatment facilities, in group or individual therapy, and amongst psychologists and psychiatrists alike.