Victim of a Senseless Crime: Part 2

© by Jennifer McLeod writing as jenjen0703, all rights reserved.

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A Lonely Teenager

An uneventful year had passed, and my parents decided it was time to find a new church. They sold the house I grew up in and bought a different house in a nearby town. I loved this house because it had a swimming pool and acres of woods to roam around in. I finally had some female friends to hang out with, so trouble had ceased for a year or so. We found a Baptist church in a small town, and my parents liked this church. The pastor was a retired cop, and there were more girls than boys in that church, so having some female friends was nice.

One Sunday, just before my 13th birthday, my parents took my brother and me out of town for the afternoon. We went to the mall and out to eat for lunch. But, on the way home a teenager became distracted and hit our car with his head-on. We were on a road with a 55 m.p.h. speed limit, and the collision completely destroyed our car, and the only person who escaped major injury and surgery was my brother. He only broke his collarbone.

Mom spent nearly 3 months in the hospital. She was in a facility in the city where we had the accident. Dad spent 17 days in the hospital, and came home with little mobility. Mom finally came home, but she could not walk for the first year. Mom became my summer responsibility, and I helped her every day with various tasks. I had to help bathe her, dumb her porta-toilet, wash her hair, do laundry and dishes, housework, help Mom with her physical therapy, pushing her through public locations in her wheelchair, and help her in and out of our car. As much as I wanted to help my mom, I had little time for me. We had some outside help, and my aunt even came to stay with us for awhile, but Dad had her freaked out and running back to her husband within a short amount of time.

Now, we have a hurt, angry, lonely teenager who saw her parents' weaknesses as her convenience. This, combined with depression and anger, was a recipe for disaster. Some nights, after my parents went to bed, I would sneak out my bedroom window and go hang out in the neighborhood with other friends. We did not do anything wrong or get into trouble, we were just out having fun. I got away with this behavior for awhile, until one night, I broke the window out with knee. After that, I had to keep something in the window to cover the broken glass. Eventually, Dad found out and whooped me good with the baseball bat-shaped board. I did not sneak out again for awhile.

I became ill with bronchitis and coughed more than I didn't. Dad was watching television and told me to go to my room, so I went. Shortly after, I realized left my cough drops upstairs, so I went back to get them. As soon as Dad saw me, he started freaking out, yelling and screaming at me, and grabbed the baseball bat-shaped board and start whooping me and yelling at me. I evaded his smacks and quickly went back to my room. I was angry, and I had had enough. As soon as Dad became comfortable in front of the television again, I quietly slipped out of the back door and went to my neighbors. My neighbor never liked my dad and had kids my age, so he let me hang out until dark. By then, my parents had already filed a police report, and things were settled down at my house. I knew we needed help and kept thinking about my friend Jim (not real name), whose father was a pastor. Jim knew how my dad was and always told me if I ever needed help, his parents helped teenage runaways and abused children. So, I managed to quietly slip into Dad's pole barn and take his 10-speed. I began the 3-hour ride towards my destination: Jim's parents' house.

Little did know, this would become the day that changed my life forever.

Nightmare at Jim's

After a long and terrifying bike ride through a thunderstorm, I finally arrived at Jim's house. Jim lived with his parents, and his father was the pastor of a local church in the area. As a matter of fact, Jim's father was good friends with my pastor. Go figure. When I arrived at Jim's house, there was no sign of life. Jim's truck was gone, I had been on that bicycle for 3 hours, and it was storming. I felt a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and wished I had not left home. But, I was tired of the beatings I was receiving there. I had just turned 14 years old, and I had already run away from home a few times. But, everywhere I went, the people did not get me help, they just sent me back to my parents.

It was not long and Jim arrived at the house to find me inside. He was surprised to find me there, and I told him what my dad had done and that I was scared. He tried to comfort me and put his arm around me, telling me it was going to be OK. The next thing I know, he is kissing me and touching me. I pulled away and told him I did not want to do that, that I was still a virgin. I was only 14, and he was 20 years old, and I knew it was not right. He said he was sorry, and that he needed to go upstairs to talk to his parents and he would be back.

I waited for an unbearable amount of time, shivering and shaking because my clothes were still wet from the storm. Jim finally came back downstairs and went in his bedroom and told me to follow him. I did as I was told. He told me he just got of the phone with the police and knew the police were looking for me and that there was an APB out on the bike. He told me I had two options: 1) Have sex with him, or 2) He would call the police and I would be arrested and taken to jail for stealing my dad's bike.

I was crying so hard, I just wanted to go home. I remember thinking, at this point, I would have rather took the beatings than to deal with what this man was about to do to me. He climbed on me and forced himself into me, and I remember how much pain I was in, how bad it hurt. Jim raped me 3 different times in an 15 hour span. I tried to leave once, after the first rape, but my bike was chained and padlocked to a tree. My nearest friend I could have went to lived a distance from Jim's. I knew it would take me forever to walk to her house, so I resigned myself to being stuck at Jim's. I still do not know where his parents were throughout all of this.

Later that evening, after it got dark outside, Jim unlocked my bike from the tree and told me I had to leave. I rode away in the dark, unable to sit on the bike seat because of the pain I was in. I rode to my nearest friend's house, and she took me straight to her room and hid me there (her mother disliked me). So I went from hiding at one place to hiding at another.

What a mess...

To read the rest of the series, Victim of a Senseless Crime:

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Other related articles:

Sexual Abuse: Get the Facts

Get Off Me! 5 Ways to Escape an Attacker

Scared and Alone

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Comments 8 comments

Gypsy Rose Lee profile image

Gypsy Rose Lee 5 years ago from Riga, Latvia

Hat's off to anyone who goes through something like that and doesn't become emotionally scared. That is awful. I hope everyone got what they deserved in the end for being so terrible toward this teenage girl.


Just History profile image

Just History 5 years ago from England

There are certain people who make me very angry- I am sorry you went through this


ThomasRydder 5 years ago

I didn't like the mother, and I detest the father, but I want to SHOOT Jim. I can't begin to imagine the pain. Whether this is your story or someone else's, Jen, your writing ability is incomparable. WHAT a read!! :)TR


Sueswan 5 years ago

It makes me angry and breaks my heart how someone can abuse a child. Unfortunately, the cycle seems to repeat it self and it continues on to the next generation.

Voted up and awesome.


JenJen0703 profile image

JenJen0703 5 years ago from Cereal City U.S.A. Author

Hi, Sueswan, there will be a part 3 coming up very soon...thanks for the support.


Derdriu 5 years ago

JenJen0703: The situation snowballs! At least there are friends to help even though hiding is no life for an abused child who is now a vulnerable teen.

Thank you, etc.,

Derdriu


YogaKat profile image

YogaKat 4 years ago from Oahu Hawaii

Beautiful and awesome . . . with the sadness. I've been a similar situation - but not ready to write about it.


JenJen0703 profile image

JenJen0703 4 years ago from Cereal City U.S.A. Author

Thanks YogaKat...I know talking about it is difficult, but doing so, even with a therapist, is very healing. I have learned I will not completely escape the effects of sexual abuse, so instead, I chose to turn it around and use my story to help others. E-mail me if you ever need big shoulders. :)

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