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My rapist ex.
The following story was submitted anonymously on Jan. 19, 2006.
The names have been changed to protect the author's privacy.

In the summer last year, I was dating a guy called Sam. I was 13 and he was 15 when this happened. We'd been going out about five months, and sex had never really been something I had wanted to do with him. In a past relationship the guy I was dating got violent when I refused to do certain things with him. That scared the hell out of me and I got rid of him sharpish. Ever since I've always felt that I need to do everything to keep them happy for fear of being hurt again.

On the whole me and Sam got on pretty well. Well, we did at least. But then the arguments became more frequent and upsetting and it's getting us both down. On July 8th, we went swimming and we bumped into a couple of Sam's friends outside the pool. We all went in the pool together and hung out for a while having a laugh. About an hour after getting in, Sam suggested we get out. I thought we could stay in a bit longer as I was enjoying myself. But he insisted so we said our goodbyes and went for a shower.

After the shower we went to the Changing Room. Sam suggested sharing a room. Being the general soft shit that I am I agreed. Once in there we kissed alot (sorry but it is relevent to the story) and all of a sudden Sam was putting on a condom. I was confused and asked what he was doing. I told him I didn't want to have sex, but he simply said "You say that now, just wait." We carried on kissing, me slightly edgy and nervous. Sam then went against my wishes and penetrated me anyway. The pain was immense and I was shocked to the core. I told him to stop and pushed him away. He looked at me in such a horrible way. I burst into tears. He told me not to be such a fucking baby, took his clothes and went into a different changing room, leaving me bawling my eyes out.

I gathered myself together and eventually dressed myself and left. I couldn't find him so I went outside. I could see him in Burger King (opposite) with his friends. I rang my parents and got a lift straight home.
I went along time barely telling anybody. I didn't want to believe it happened. I spent so long trying to persuade everyone, including myself that he was different, that he's a real nice guy. This is such a kick in the face to know how wrong I was. I can't even hate him, I just can't feel anything towards the guy. I spent the next day alone in silence. I took myself for a walk, to gather my thoughs. I ended up in the lonliest part of the woods crying to myself. I wanted to push it to the back of my head. I blamed myself. It's stupid, I know. But I've had the violent ex and now this ... it's just so confusing. I hated myself so much, I felt unclean and disgusted. I couldn't look at myself. I didn't want to eat anything or leave my room. I told the parents that I'd just fallen out with my best friend. I know they didn't believe me but they weren't going to push me into telling them.

Now, six months later, alot more people know. I finally told my parents and some more friends, and I feel so much better for it. I've had some councelling, and I'm rid of the nightmares. I also call ChildLine sometimes to talk things through. I never did go to the police, and I regret it one hell of a lot.

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