It was a cloudy day in 2015. My fidgety 12 year old mind was all over the place. I was so oblivious as to what was about to happen. I was so innocent, not knowing that in the next couple of hours, the most traumatic experience I would ever encounter was about to happen. The first thing I remember was his hand grabbing my shoulders firmly and pushing me into a closet, his friend following along. I found myself trying to move but feeling powerless. He slammed me onto the floor. My eyes were wide open but the closet was pitch black. Though I could not see a thing.. I could feel it all. My heart was racing and tears were streaming down my face. I kept telling him to stop touching me. Stop. Please. But he wouldn't. It started to be more than touching. I was so confused on why he was doing this to me. Tears were rushing out of my eyes but I made no sounds. His friend turned on the light and I closed my eyes tightly as fast as I could. Then I felt him pulling off my pants. No God, please. He told me to shut up and the exact moment after was when I first felt him inside. He kept going. Over and over. In, out, in out. I looked up at his friend, my lip trembling. All he did was laugh at me as if my suffering was a cruel joke. Then... he just watched. I was so scared that all I could do was freeze. My mouth, my face, my body. Everything went limp. My eyes were still closed. I did not want to see their faces. "Open your eyes, you nasty whore." He said. Then his friend chimed in. "Open your eyes right now you fucking slut." I remember keeping my eyes shut very hard. I felt a hard slap across my face. "Look into my eyes right now you little fucking whore." I opened them. I looked into his dark, brown eyes. I felt as if my eyes were a river. The stream of tears were bawling out of my eyes. "No." No. That was the only word that came out of my mouth. Of course he didn't stop. It went on for so long. It was the most physical pain I had ever been in. I was pinned down on the ground, laying limp. My body was being pushed back and forth. My mind was all over the place. I pictured my mother watching me, not being able to do anything. I pictured my father watching, crying. Crying only because he couldn't save his poor daughter that he had tried so hard to protect her whole life. He finally stopped. A rush of relief went over me. Though he was still pinning me down, I had hope that maybe they'd leave. His friend started to approach my body, saying so many nasty things to me. I tried so hard to get up, but they were too strong for me. The friend switched places with the first one. "Please." Please. The second word that had come out of my mouth. It was like my mind had stopped thinking correctly. There was nothing going on in my head about ways to stop this. I didn't know what to do. I felt it again. Over and over. In, out, in out.. After a while, my body almost went numb. As if I couldn't feel him inside me anymore. All I felt was his breath on the side of my neck. He was more aggressive than the one before him. It hurt more this time. It hurt so badly, that it almost started feeling normal. I so badly wanted it to be over. My eyes were still spilling tears. I didn't think I could ever cry again after this. All my tears drained from my body. He finally stopped. His hands lifted from my hips. He pulled away. They both put on their pants, told me to stop crying because "I liked it," and left me... left me to lay on the floor, no pants on, legs open, to just think. I thought about what had just happened. How painful it had felt. How horrific it was to think of their faces. How I would remember them forever. How I let them do that to me. How I didn't scream. I looked down at myself and quickly closed my eyes. I was so disgusted with my own self. I felt so dirty. I felt so stupid. I could've done something differently to save myself from this. I could've done something. Anything. I could've said more than just "No" and "Please." It was all my fault. I got up, put on my pants, and left the closet.
That day, when I was sitting at home eating my dinner, I spoke to no one. I cried in my room, alone. I didn't tell anyone about what had happened to me. Why did it happen to me? Why? Why would these young men decide to ruin a poor girl's life in one of the worst ways possible? Why would they take away this affectionate experience of love that God gifts every human with? How could they intentionally hurt me so emotionally and physically without me even knowing them? Why did this happen to me? WHY ME? I still ask myself these questions to this day.
I kept this a secret for so long. I felt so embarrassed of myself. I felt so unclean and nasty. I just wanted to chop off my body from the waist down. Ashamed. Dirty. Worthless. Hopeless. All my fault. That is how I felt. I felt as if my life wasn't worth living anymore. All I wanted was to be dead. Their faces were imprinted in my brain and I knew I'd never forget them. I would never forget looking into their eyes and seeing through them. Seeing the evil that lived within them. Seeing the person that could easily get them self to rape a 12 year old girl. Seeing the people that took my first experience of sex away from me. Seeing the people that ruined my life. The monster they really were.
A while later, I told my mother. It explained a lot of my behaviors and actions in the past. It explained why I acted out so horribly. It explained why I thought life was a piece of shit for so long. It explained everything. Though I didn't tell my poor mom for so long, she is lucky I told her at all. I have shared my story with my father, my grandmother, my friends. I have come so far. Now, you are about to read a letter to my rapists about why I'm okay---------
Though you have hurt me in one of the worst ways possible, I am okay. I am okay because you guys are the ones that have to live with the guilt for the rest of your lives.
I am okay because I know that you are the ones that have to remember the time you raped a young girl. Forcing her into a horrible thing and watching her suffer. I am okay because you are the ones who said nasty things like "Stop crying you ugly whore," and "We know you want this, dumb ass bitch." You survived and may have not been caught, but you have to live the rest of your life in guilt.
I am okay because I survived as well, and I am more than proud of myself to still be living today. Though I have tried to take my own life multiple times, I am still here and God wants me here for a reason. I am okay because this experience has made me so strong. I am okay because I have such supportive people in my life. I am okay because of treatment centers and hospitals that have impacted my life in such positive ways. I am okay because of different therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, and counselors that have all impacted me so greatly. I am okay because I have a loving family that has helped me survive through everything. I am okay because of my ALL of my amazing friends. I am okay because I have the most caring, beautiful, intelligent bestfriend in the world. I am okay because I have the most supportive, handsome, lovely boyfriend I could ever ask for. I have so much support in my life because of what you guys did to me. I'm not saying thank you. Not at all. But I'm trying to tell you how great of a life I live now.
This traumatizing experience was my first experience of "sex," but not my first experience of "making love." I have not experienced making love because making love means having both person consent. Making love means that you LOVE each other. Making love does not mean being forced into having sex. Making love does not mean crying while being pinned to a dirty floor. Making love definitely does NOT mean being tortured by faces for years and years after.
Yes, you guys may have ruined my life for a couple of years.
Yes, I am the one left with PTSD.
Yes, I have self harmed my body because of how dirty I felt.
Yes, I've tried to die.
Yes, I still remember the distinct look in your eyes and the feeling I felt. But I will not let this take away my happiness forever. On the hardest nights/days when I feel like my life isn't worth it, you guys are winning. But overall I will beat this. I will beat PTSD. I will beat anxiety and depression. I will win. In the end, I will be the winner.