| How could this be rape? He's my boyfriend
Another week or two went by before he injured himself while weightlifting after school in the weight room. The next morning he came to my house and complained about the pain. When I offered him aspirin he hit my face so hard that I flew across the room. He screamed that I knew nothing about pain, but that I would make him feel better. He forced himself into my mouth, then decided that was boring and ordered me to pull down my pants. Paralyzed with fear, I did as I was told. I cried out in pain as he rammed himself into me. He yelled that I was not tight enough for him and told me to get on my knees. I remember him licking his thumb and shoving it through my rectum. He seemed pleased, took his thumb out and put his penis in. I felt as if I was being torn in two, and I screamed for him to stop. After what seemed like an eternity, he did, and hit me across the face again and told me I was worthless. I moved across the room into a corner, and even now, I close my eyes and see it clearly. The last assault occurred almost exactly a year after I had lost my virginity to him. Looking back, I realize that I had sex with him mostly because of pressure. I had been curious, but it was not something I necessarily wanted. I obliged even if it didn't feel right being intimate with him; I just wanted to keep the peace between us if we were to be together. He knew he was doing something wrong. After each assault, he apologized profusely and told me to call the police. But I found myself making excuses for his behavior. I had started a mental checklist in health class, during a unit on domestic violence and sexual assault. I convinced myself that the incidents could not be rape since he was my boyfriend and he loved me. He would never try to control me, so he wouldn't rape me, and besides, I told myself, we are learning about this in class so there is no way that it can possibly apply to me. I was wrong on all counts. When I confronted him about what he was doing to me, he simply looked at me and told me that he had called a crisis intervention center and was told that his behavior was normal. I interrogated him about this, asking whether he told them everything, and again, he insisted that his behavior was normal. I knew then there was nothing normal about his behavior. I called a local rape crisis center and told them what I had endured. I realized I needed to get away from him. About a month after the last assault, I found the courage to leave. I told him our relationship was over when he called, that he did not need to pick me up the next morning to take me to school. He did not take the news well, but I believed that he would kill me if I didn't leave him. I hid from him in school and screened my answering machine. As I started telling my story, I learned that everyone around me knew what was going on. My mother had her suspicions, but I often ignored her concerns. My friends knew he was never right for me. My teachers knew what had happened and excused me for cutting classes and skipping school in the hopes of avoiding him. I entered counseling and went to the police. I filed charges but I told the officers that I would rather him go into counseling than endure a trial. Soon after, he stopped going to school. And I stopped going to counseling; I believed I had healed. Little did I know at the time that I was just in denial. A little over a year ago, I decided the time had come to accept my past and share my story to those who would listen. The closure I thought I had felt back in 1994 was false, and I broke my silence. Previous attempts in discussing the rapes in passing conversation resulted in boyfriends, friends, and even members of my own family telling me that I should just "get over it" because "it happened so long ago." This time was different. The first person I told was myself. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at my reflection. "I was raped." In July of 2000, I sat down with my current boyfriend, Marc, and showed him a notebook in which I had written a detailed account of each assault. He read it silently. I was prepared for the usual reaction of "you need help, you need to get over it." But instead, he said, "I am so sorry that this happened to you, and I would give anything to take it away. But you need to deal with this. You need to heal from this, and you cannot keep running away from this." I was relieved. Having such support from somebody gave me the courage to delve into my past and start to heal. I found support online as I looked into reopening the legal case. I went back and read my original police report. I wanted to know whether anything had come of the charges, whether I could still prosecute, and see whether he had been charged with rape since. For rape victim, vocalizing attack helps heal wounds How could this be rape? He's my boyfriend |