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  LiveWire / My Forums / Viewing Story

raped in father's bed
The following story was submitted anonymously on May 19, 2007.
The names have been changed to protect the author's privacy.

This is my story.

I was raped august 6th, 2005, almost two years ago. My father was on a camping trip with his girlfriend, and they'd left me home alone.

Four people appeared at my house in the evening, an old friend named Cara, and three others, Amy, Jeffery and Ryan. They butted their way into the house and were watching TV and talking. They'd brought two bottles of hard liquor to drink, which made me feel awkward. I wanted them out, but when I tried suggesting it, they said they wouldn't stay the night. Amy brought me some water because I didn't want their alcohol. Then room got very hot. I noticed colors started swirling off objects, and I thought I'd accidentally swallowed some alcohol. I was disconnected from my body for a while.

When I came to, the boy Ryan was stripping me and throwing me on my father's bed. I tried screaming, but I couldn't control my body, and the cry that came out was a whisper. The pain was bad, but not as bad as it was later. Ryan got off me after a while, and everyone was gone except for Amy, who appeared over me with a face of horror. She kept pleading "don't be like me." I wanted to ask her what she meant, and to tell her to get help, and then she was gone. Cara appeared, holding a fat candle that she forced up me. She played with various parts of my body and then Ryan was back.

There was a clock across the room that I could see for a second. The time was 10:10 pm when Ryan raped me a second time. He was full of energy and didn't stop for a very long time. Jeffery came to the bed and gave me a look. I tried to tell him to help me, but all that came out were more strange whispers. Jeffery tried getting a blow job before he gave up and moved on to breast sex. Cara helped him. Ryan and Jeffery switched places.

Then they were gone. The drugs were wearing off a little, and I stumbled around and tried to put on my clothes, but I got stuck in my pants and the boys came back. They stuck the candle up me again. This time it hurt, a lot more than before. I screamed, a real scream this time, but Ryan decided to make out with me so I couldn't do that anymore. Then Ryan told me to give him a blow job. He forced it in and I bit down hard. Ryan screamed and fell off the bed moaning. When he could stand, he punched me around and threw me into the wall. I tried to get out but I couldn't open the door. I was thrown into the wall a few more times, beaten with a chair, and cut open on my arms and legs and stomach with a set of keys.

Ryan and Jeffery raped me the entire night. When they tired, they would either beat me some more, urinate into my cuts or pour powdered laundry detergent into my cuts, making them fizz up and bubble. I must have looked disgusting, but they kept at it anyway. If I fought back, I was raped longer and beaten harder, so I gave up. I figured I was going to die, bleed to death or go into a coma or something. The windows got lighter, and the clock said 6:40 am. Jeffery was texting on his phone and Ryan was in the kitchen, that's the last I remember before letting myself fall into exhausted sleep.

When I woke, they were gone. I locked all the doors again and tended to myself, and cleaned the house. When father came home three days later, the only signs of what had happened were a dip in the bed, a wobbly chair and the damage on my body. Another sign was when I didn't get my period after three months, so I forced myself to drop heavy things on my stomach, and had friends punch me until my period came back.

My family knows now what happened, after snooping my journals. They think it's my fault it happened. But I know it wasn't my fault. I found out Cara had planned it, and that I was drugged in her place; otherwise the boys were going to rape her and Amy instead. In a way, all three of us girls were victims.

It's been two years, and I try not to think about the rape, about that old life. I used to have several scars, but now they're beginning to fade a little. I'm learning what's right and what's wrong, and what I can do about what happened. I urge you, whomever is reading this, please don't end up like me. Don't let yourself believe your life has little value, don't believe others can own you and take control of your life. You matter. Most of all, report rape as soon as it happens. I know it's hard, but you have to, otherwise the rapists will get away and do it again. Please, report your story. Life does go on after rape, remember that. Scars can fade.



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