MY RAPE STORY {Part One (1)…} If I talked about it I would feel it, it would be really weird to be…
By: Abel Igono
Tags: Schools, Victims, Sexual Assault, Rape, Survivor

MY RAPE STORY {Part One (1)…}

If I talked about it I would feel it, it would be really weird to be telling my story. I am only seventeen and if so it is not like I have a lifetime of things to say. It is also strange to know this will be heard by the world and displayed for everyone to see, just as you are reading it now. I have always kept everything inside. No one ever knew about the conflict raging inside; people always described me as bubbly and upbeat.

To be raped is one the most horrifying experiences, especially for an already confused seventeen year old. After the rape my brain shut down. I felt numb, I felt like a shell. All my feelings – the hurt, shame, anger, guilt, sadness, and confusion were all locked away.

I felt like I was seeing myself as an outsider. I watched myself smile, laugh, and have fun, but I never felt any of it. When I looked in the mirror I did not know the face that stared back at me. That is when I started cutting. It allowed me to feel my existence, and feel pain, but a different kind of pain. A controlled pain that I was in charge of, I had some sense of control over my out of control life.

My friend and I had been at the same party earlier, because my parents travelled and would likely not be home for a week or even more. We were getting along well chatting and later on, a classmate asked my friend, her boyfriend and I if we wanted to come back to his house – they had a spa and his parents were away at the time. We all went back to his house and after a while my friend and her boyfriend decided to go home. He told me I could stay there which I wanted to, as I lived quite far away and at this point it was very late in the night.

I have never had sex before and made it very clear to him that this was not on the cards at all. I told him I had my period at the time, so I would not be having sex with him.

He didn’t listen though.

He dropped me home the next morning with his dad’s car; laughing as he said, “have a nice life” when I got out of the car. I went inside my house and sat in front of a mirror, staring at my reflection and began sobbing uncontrollably. I remember feeling so confused by this, why was I crying? I just had sex for the first time and that was meant to be great, right? So why don’t I feel great?

I knew in my gut that I had just been raped but I tried to suppress this and dismiss it for a few months. If I did not acknowledge that anything was wrong, maybe nothing was? I thought. My closest friend knew that something wasn’t right about the situation and after talking with her at length about it I was still unable to express and accept that I had been raped. Coming to terms with this was incredibly daunting. I prefer to remain silent about it.

It wasn’t up to a week when my parents came back home to find out about the cutting and were shocked and confused. I refused to talk to them about it or tell them anything. I couldn’t talk about the rape. If I talked about it I would feel it, it would be real. I wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen, and if no one knew it was easier to pretend.

My Mom knew something wasn’t right with me, so she suggested we see a therapist. They took me to a therapist who I hated. I decided a therapist wasn’t the solution, I decided the solution was to leave. If I left my city and went to a university far away, I would be away from all my problems.

That, of course, didn’t work. I couldn’t run away from my problems because I couldn’t escape myself. When I realized that I felt like I had hit rock bottom. By this time I had been through countless therapists and social workers. I wouldn’t talk to any of them. I was still cutting and starting to get really depressed.

......................To be continued🙏