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A Rape Survivor's Poem

Updated on September 13, 2014

A rape survivor expresses herself in many ways

One of the things I did was to write a poem . which Hallmark is not going to publish!

I'm sharing this poem which I wrote in 1994 because I came across it again recently and really liked it - I like how it expresses my anger, I like how there's some twisted humor in there. I like it because, for me, writing this was a tool used in recovering, even though I kept it to myself for many years. I hope that there are other rape survivors out there who will find some solace in it, though it is more for those who have been raped again by those around them. Maybe somebody can glean something from it... who knows!

There is nothing in this that is sexually explicit - but this is about a rape -- there are a couple of swear words. I did not rate this an "R" because that will stop a lot of people who are not members here from reading it.

The poem was just one of the ways I expressed my feelings, not just at my rape, but at the way others handled it. Some people were very helpful -- they didn't get a poem...just my eternal "Thanks!"

The Perfume

In 1994

some man in self-defense said "so you're a blamer, huh?"

the shame took over, filling that orifice, the one women have

that some men feel the need to fill.

"it isn't my fault I blame," she wanted to whine

someone has to be responsible.

mostly she blamed herself

and if it seemed the blame could not go back

to her childhood

she'd assign it to a previous life

where she'd done something wrong, perhaps

left a lesson unlearned.

All day she could smell last night,

she blamed the perfume she wore today,

for it made her think of last night and him

and drew her back to that one

November 10 1982

that man, splatters her perfume all over


(she can never use that particular



cannot dabble it behind her ears or

on the soft inner skin of elbows and knees,

skinned knees, like those of a child.)

In the years that followed, she never blamed him

she knew somehow he had a childhood in hell

a previous life with lessons left unlearned

a hollow man, he'd tried to fill his empty spaces

using her three holes




In 1982,

once they determine that she is the problem of

the city and not the county

they say they want her to stay on two extra nights

to sleep in the same motel

that way, no one will have to come into work

the next day

on Veterans Day to interview her and

file the report.

She apologizes for ruining their holiday

but she cannot wait not wait

cannot cannot

He'd taken all her money

and her stockings are gone.

She stays only one night more

in the same motel.

so they have to come into work

on the holiday.

Detective Jonathon and

the other one, his partner

(who do they blame for this? who?)

Her interrogation is done in a small room with

the tape recorder there in view

they have her explain it all to them again

in detail

she does her best not to cry

but when she describes what he

made her do

she cries, then

pulls herself in like a sorrowful child

and apologizes.

Detective Jonathon slides the kleenex across the

table, like a good cop

while his partner

stares at her.

she notices the mug he holds has

cartoon rabbits

fucking happily in different positions.

"You're divorced, right?" he asks, his lips

kissing the cup, his eyebrows up.

Does he think she'd gotten married since

yesterday when

last he'd asked?

Perhaps the fucking rabbits have

infiltrated his brain.

She wants to smash his head with his bunny cup

so the rabbits will fall out.

There are ropemarks still around her ankles

and her wrists.

She crosses her stockingless knees and nods.

Detective Jonathon mentions a lie detector test

"For me?" she asks.

"Of course," he nods.

It's 1982, but suddenly

she's sitting on her mother's lap

on the kitchen floor where

she's done something wrong.

His partner says

"We haven't found the

alleged perpetrator,


who else would it be?"

his lips smile

but his eyes do not

as he sips from his

fucking bunny cup.

ALLLEEGGEDDDDD flashes through her head.

"You're divorced, that right?" she knows the man

is still thinking, she knows he has words

flashing through his own head




motel room


she asks to go to the bathroom

so she can sob where they

cannot watch

water splashing on her face

she pictures the two partners

in the interrogation room

leaning back in their chairs

casually trying to decide

who's to blame

hey, maybe she plans

to sue the motel chain



maybe this poor sucker was some guy

she picked up in a bar

and he pissed her off.


in the bathroom, she

stares in the mirror and

sees herself

blindfolded as the rapist

tells her to wash up

she cannot stop it

cannot stop

stop it

the pictures

smack her so hard she surrenders

and cries some more.

Detective Jonathon, the good cop,

would have said,

no, maybe after they did it

she changed her mind or

maybe he went a little too far for her

with the kinky stuff

when he

tied her up.

In the bathroom, splashing clean the tears

she pictures the rabbit detective laughing

in the interview room

hey, maybe he shouldn't have used her

last stocking to

cover his face,

some women get pissed off

at things like that.

[hey bunny man, maybe it was the knife,

maybe it was when he tied her up

or when he taped her eyes shut and

put her in the shower

or maybe it was some of the

things he wanted her to do, or the way he

went through her wallet, her

driver's license, with her home address,

the picture of her kids, and asked

her their names.

Hey, bunny balls, maybe it was the way

he surprised her as she lay

face down on the bed

watching tv, waiting for a phone call

the way he appeared from nowhere

with the knife

and her stockings on his head,

some women just don't like things like that.]

Eventually the interrogation is over.

"We'll be in touch"

Detective Jonathon says.

Eventually she drives herself back to the

motel, leaving them to type

their reports.

Eventually she packs up and drives

seven hours home alone,

removed from her body,

in a car

with no sound system;

it is still a noisy drive since

she is screaming.


She drives back to her lover

and asks him to make love to her

to remind her there is a difference,

that her body is her own.


Unpacking her suitcase

the smell of the perfume lingers

he'd made her take a shower first

blind-folded and after

splattered her perfume all over

himself and her.

At home she couldn't turn off

the pictures, turning them off

turn them off they won't turn

off turning and

washing dishes walking, trying to sleep

the shower ran on what happened what she

could have done should have done did not do

what if she had

but there was no button to turn it

off the pictures come and go at their will.


she'll get over it

she thinks


In December he said, "aren't you over this yet?"

and offered to show her what she'd done

with the way she walked and held herself,

the things she did

to cause the man to pick her out,

so she would be safe on her next trip.

In November 1983, she thought it was done.

She was over it, a year gone by.

Happy anniversary,

the rape counselor came

all those miles

to celebrate.

They went to dinner and the woman told her

how he'd struck again, the

same MO she'd said, the next town over,

a town where she still drove and stayed


three times a year




motel room.

It was not a happy celebration.

In 1984,

Detective Jonathon called to tell her

they were closing the case.

(she can hear inside his head

no alleged perpetrator had

ever been found to blame for

her alleged story of

an alleged rape)

and did she want her clothing back?

her blouse, her underwear,

her suit skirt..

She wondered what he thought

she would do with the


wash it and wear it

on her next business trip

stop in a bar and

pick up a man

with a rope and a knife

so she could be tied up again?

she wondered

if the blouse would

still smell of the perfume,

she always sprayed perfume

on her clothing

to make the scent last longer.

She wanted to tell him where he could

shove her clothing but

she merely said

destroy it.

Years later she would like to

find those men,

Detective Jonathon

the bunny cop,

her ex-lover

to explain how she could never

really forget

how they took her

and filled her wounded holes

with their bottles of




It was easier to forgive him than it was to forgive my treatment

by the police of Greensboro, North Carolina He was a rapist, a sicko on the low end of the stick even in prison. I was old enough at 32 to understand this was not about sex, but about dominance, control and his own dysfunctional issues. What was their excuse? Or was it really just another example of the same thing, just not as damaged? (I'd like to send out a big Go Fuck Yourselves to those involved - I'm working on forgiveness but it's a long time coming, I'm still angry, as you might notice.)

The story behind the poem

Here's a brief outline - alright, not so brief - but I've left out the details of the rape itself - of the story behind the poem. At the time of my rape I was 32, a traveling sales woman. I talk about my traveling in my other lens - Bookplate Lady.

On the particular day of my rape, I returned early in the day to my Days Inn motel room. I wasn't a drinker -- I take epilepsy medication because of an AVM I'd had the year before the rape (this was not a good period in my life) and don't drink, and that was true back then, too.

Evidently the rapist - a well dressed white man in his (I would guess) late 20's early 30's - had gotten into my room, probably by entering when the room was being cleaned. He was in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain. He was there when I came into my room and kicked off my shoes, put down the papers I would have to fill out reporting that morning's activities and turned on the t.v. He was there while I called and left a message for a friend back in D.C. where I lived. He was there as I took off my skirt so I wouldn't wrinkle it and lay down to watch t.v., waiting for her call back.

All during the rape, the phone was ringing; I knew it was her. She said later she wished she'd figured something was wrong. She kept calling because she couldn't figure out why I wasn't there. "I should have known someting was wrong, I should have called the motel office," she said, as if it was her fault because she didn't. There was only one person who was to blame here, though it seems he was the only one who got off guilt free.

I was there. Lying stomach down on the bed when he emerged from the bathroom wearing a stocking over his face, holding a knife. Later I found out the stocking was mine, he'd pulled it from my suitcase before I returned. The knife, of course, was his own.

I stared at him and went into some instant shock as my brain tried to digest that there was a well dressed man wearing a stocking on his head standing in my room. My throat locked up and though I wanted to scream, nothing came out. He had a dark moustache - that's the only other thing I noticed before he put some kind of duct tape over my eyes.

The details of the rape are not needed here. He had impotency problems, as many rapists do, but he did manage to get what he needed. Humiliation, control and gratification. I was afraid the whole time that he would murder me when he was done. Afterwards he had me shower and I was sure he was going to stab me to death in the shower and let my blood run down the drain but he didn't. He tied me up, hands behind my back, letting me put on a robe when I begged that I was cold. Went through my wallet and took all my money (I did not have any credit cards), made mention of the picture of my two small sons and my address. Told me not to call the police and said he might be standing outside the door, so I should just stay there until morning.

I waited a few moments after I was sure he'd left. I managed to contort myself and twist my legs through my arms so, although I was still tied, my arms were in front of me and it was easier to use the phone to call the motel front desk for help. I have no idea why I didn't call the police directly, maybe because I couldn' see the numbers. They arrived and there was first some arguing among the county and city police as to who should be handling this - the city won. I have no idea if the county would have behaved as 1950's as the city did, but in any case, I lost.

I don't think there was any procedure to take rape victims to the hospital - no offer was made, once they heard I'd showered. The clothing I wore was taken as evidence, leaving me with no stockings since the rapist had taken my only other pair.

That I had managed to wriggle and get my tied up arms from the front to the back worked against my story with the bunny detective -- he couldn't figure out how I managed to get my hands in front of me.

Evidence piled up against me. I was a divorcee (he kept asking me that -- "so.. you're divorced, right?") in a motel room in the middle of the day, I hadn't screamed for help. And the worst thing against me was that I had had my diaphragm in my suitcase, and when I'd realized I was going to be raped, I asked if I could use it - to protect myself from pregnancy. I should have screamed instead.

Are you already thinking I'm making up the rape? God help me, I'm not.

That didn't indicate consent. Not that it's anyone's business but --the reason I had it with me was that my periods were very heavy flowing and I'd found that if I wore my diaphragm and my usual menstrual pads,I did not have to worry about being on a sales call with a customer and then realizing there was blood seeping onto my skirt.

In any case -- even if I was a sexual floozy who was having wild sex with men all over North Carolina (which I wasn't and I wasn't) the fact remains ...I was raped. I didn't say yes, I never saw the guy before he stepped out of my bathroom unannounced. God help those who were victims of a date rape covered by these detectives.

I still feel defensive, I still feel angry at what happened More at the local police and other reactions than at the man - who was obviously sick.

My rape happened on Wednesday, November 10th -- the next day was Veteran's Day, a holiday. The detectives wanted me to stay over and file my report on Friday, so they could have their Thursday off. Really. You know, who wants to work on a holiday.

I couldn't do it -- I couldn't stay 7 hours from home for a 2 extra days in the same motel where I'd been raped. I had no idea if the man was coming back. I wanted out of there. I had to stay one more night, and that was bad enough. The motel was kind enough to change rooms for me and never charged me for my stay.

The next day I went to the police station and filed my report. I'm a first born child, well trained to behave myself and not make a scene. I went over the scene of the day before as best I could, trying to give them all the details they'd need to catch this man. That was, I thought, what they wanted. To catch the rapist.

I hadn't slept much the night before -- I was having flashbacks to the rape, to the man's stockinged face, his voice, his comments on the picture of my boys.

As I went through the details, I know my voice wasn't flat - but I tried not to cry. (The year before when I'd had an angiogram - as part of the diagnosis for the AVM which was why I was now on epilepsy medication - in which tubes were run into my brain I hadn't cried either, at least not until I'd had enough and had to give up my "good girl" act.)

While I tried to be the tough little survivor, working with the detectives on this case, I suddenly noticed one detective was drinking coffee from a large mug that had pictures of rabbits fornicating on it. Somehow that didn't seem right - to be interviewing rape survivors while sipping from a mug of fucking rabbits. But maybe that was just me, I'd lost my sense of humor.

During this interview, this same guy asked me once or twice if I was divorced. Yes yes. What the hell did that have to do with it, was there a special law in North Carolina that said divorcees could not file rape charges? I didn't ask that - I was much too meek back then. As I was later told by a male friend who had a list of the things I did that invited my rape.

They must have asked about my schedule that morning and early afternoon. It would have been easy enough to trace -- I called on local bookstores and would have had an "alibi" - though why the hell I was the one who needed an alibi should have been under question. There was that unexplained 30 minutes no doubt when I did my drive through lunch at McDonald's.

The interview finally ended. I drove the 7 hours home, sobbing - in those days, I didn't have a cell phone or any sound system in my car. It was a long 7 hours.

One more thing.

The night before, after I'd finished with the police - and I have to say, the county police who dusted the place for fingerprints and did a thorough search and were decent to me - I had called the local Rape Survivor Support Group (I can't recall what it was called - this was nearly 30 years ago) and they sent out a counselor who told me a few things.

There was a serial rapist in the tri-city area in North Carolina, which I hadn't known, but these detectives evidently did know, or should have known The rapist was breaking into motels and raping women traveling alone. His MO was the same as I'd described, tying the woman up after making her shower to remove any evidence. Using her stockings, the perfume. As far as I know, he was never caught. And they never mentioned it to me.

He picked motels where there was easy access to the rooms, not hotels where the rooms were entered into in a hallway, but motels where there were windows. In another town in the tri-city area, he had used a glass cutter, rolled the glass he cut down the hallway and put it behind a soda machine, then climbed in.

Nobody noticed the rape that followed. And evidently the police in the area -- Greensboro, Raleigh, Durham, Chapel Hill - didn't compare notes at that time.

My case was "closed" within 2 years - for a long time I tried to find out if they ever caught this guy - I don't think they ever did.

If I was raped again, would I report it?

I don't know. I really don't -- what would be the point? There's enough to go through, recovering from the rape itself. I'd have to think long and hard on it.

If I'm still angry, it's not at the specific police, it's because

"Rape is the only crime in which the victim must prove his or her innocence."

WTF is that about?

Why aren't you angry too?

Are you ....or do you have.....

a mother

a wife

a sister

a daughter

a grandmother

a girlfriend

a female friend

or neighbor

or co-worker,

a fellow human being?

(we won't even go into the fact that

men have been raped too)

Don't you love them?

Oh, the things people say....

Here are just some of the highlights I remember of things people said.

* The police asking me to come back and take a lie detector test. I did, but when I got to the place where the test was to be given, the woman who was to give the test said I couldn't take it because of my epilepsy medication. It would negate anything. I was with the rape counselor and I burst into tears. I wanted to take it so the detectives would see I was telling the truth.

* My boss asking after 4 weeks (even though it was the Christmas season, when sales people are not on the road) when I would be back at work, because he thought it had been long enough.

* My then boyfriend, after 6 weeks of trying to be 'with me' as I went through nightmares and flashbacks, finally saying "Don't you think 6 weeks is long enough - aren't you over this now?"

* Advice being offered by a male friend on what I'd done to invite the man to choose me - my walk, for example -- not confident enough. It may be true that rapists pick those who look vulnerable or aren't paying attention -- but timing and delivery can give the message that the victim was responsible.

* Advice being offered by a female co-worker who couldn't believe I hadn't fought back, complete with her lecture on what she would have done. You don't know until you are in the situation what you would do -- you do what you have to to survive.

* Going back to work in January - how scary it was,how nobody at my work seemed to realize that. (I never stayed in another Days Inn. I always ask for a room near the office, would check behind the bathroom shower curtain, kicking it open with my foot if I had to. Never staying in the same place for more than one night and never coming back to my room in the middle of the day.

* Several months after returning to work, being asked by a new buyer in the store I'd called on the morning of my rape, "what ever happened to that girl who got raped?" I never told them I'd been raped.... so I suppose it was one of the detectives when they called to verify my "alibi". She was a little shocked when I stared at her for a moment and then said, "I'm fine. Thank you."

*Flashbacks that lasted for months - I'd be doing something that didn't even seem related to the rape, when suddenly I'd hear his voice or see something and I'd snap and start crying. I hate being out of control.

*Anniversary flashbacks - nobody told me about them. They happened for years, and when I got so I'd realize the anniversary was coming and would be prepared, it'd strike me on a different day. I'd realize I was blowing up over things that didn't need to be blown up over, or crying over things that weren't that important - and as soon as I realized it was the anniversary, things would ease off.

* Coming home from work one day and seeing a naked man in the window of the condo next to mine masturbating. I flipped out and ended up hiding in my closet for a good two hours before calling the police to report it.

This was a disturbed adolescent -- a couple of us called the police and he went to trial - "funny" though it might seem, this kind of behavior can escalate if not stopped and can turn into rape cases.

* In 1987 I moved to my same employer's Home office in Ohio. In 1989 or 90, there was some media hype about rape victims who were revealing their names - I was interviewed by a local newspaper about the rape.

My boss - who had not been my boss at the time, he hadn't even worked for the company then - was very upset with my comment about my employer wanting me to return to work after 4 weeks. He wanted me to write the paper and tell them it wasn't him.

Of course, I wouldn't - I reassured him that everyone could figure out he hadn't even worked there then - but it bothered him and over the course of the next few weeks, he kept using the word "rape" to me in conversations.

"Don't let that customer rape you," he'd say, referring to negotiations over pricing.

More than once. Rape rape rape.

I could only shake my head.

-----------It's never too late

to heal from a rape!!! ---------------

Things YOU can do if you've been raped - because it is all about healing YOU!

There are ways to heal from being raped. It is not "a fate worse than death" -- your body might have been violated but your mind and soul are yours! And your body - it's yours too! Take it all back!

  • If you choose not to report your rape (and it is YOUR choice whether to report it or not) , tell someone - someone you trust! Rape counselors are a good starting point - many of them know from first hand experience many of the things you will be going through.
  • It would be good to be examined by a doctor. Take care of your body,it's still yours!
  • Read about the effects of rape so you aren't surprised... I wasn't prepared for the anniversary flashbacks ....knowledge is your friend!
  • Write or draw about it -- express yourself... keeping your emotions in, keeps you stuck. Your mind, your spirit, soul and body are all yours!
  • Love yourself -- don't criticize, blame, judge what you did, didn't, coulda shoulda woulda on your side!

Related Lens

Others lenses on this topic that I think are of interest!

Thank you for your comments

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    • DAnnieB LM profile imageAUTHOR

      DAnnieB LM 

      9 years ago

      [in reply to Kate-Phizackerley]

      Oh, Kate -- thank you so much... a blessing that brought tears to my eyes!

    • Kate Phizackerl1 profile image

      Kate Phizackerl1 

      9 years ago

      I've just got my Angel wings and I knew exactly what lens I wanted to the the very first I bless - blessed.

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      Thank you so much for sharing your story. Such a horrible thing to have to live through. We need to teach our daughters to not accept any part of the blame if a rape occurs.

    • lakern26 lm profile image

      lakern26 lm 

      9 years ago

      My God, what a heart-wrenching story. It was unbelievably brave of you to share your story, and everything you felt and learned from it, with the rest of us.

    • mysticmama lm profile image

      Bambi Watson 

      9 years ago

      Welcome to the Sharing Hearts Group!

    • aka-rms profile image

      Robin S 

      9 years ago from USA

      Thank you for sharing your story. I know it will help others.

    • mysticmama lm profile image

      Bambi Watson 

      9 years ago

      Thank You for sharing your story, please submit the lens to the sharing hearts group:

    • athomemomblog profile image

      Genesis Davies 

      9 years ago from Guatemala

      Wow, thank you for sharing your experience. It might be that rapists pick certain women, but seriously, does that make it any less of a crime? NO! I had it pounded into me as a young girl that I had to walk strongly, keep my head up and act confident (ie, present a less appealing target to rapists) and I was still attacked . . . so in my opinion, if a sicko wants to rape someone, he's going to do it, no matter what. It's NOT your fault.

      The indifference shown to you is appalling, too, yet seems to be the norm in rape cases. I don't understand how being divorced could have anything to do with a masked man with a knife hiding in your room! As for fighting back, when your life is at stake, that just seems dumb . . . what you did might not be accepted by others, but it kept you alive so you could see your kids again and that is very, very important.

    • religions7 profile image


      9 years ago

      Thanks for sharing. Blessed by a squidangel :)

    • Kazooli LM profile image

      Kazooli LM 

      9 years ago

      I know how you feel. For years I have tried to forgive but that did not help. For years I have tried to wipe my face off, the tears, the anger and ''the why this has hapened to me'' but it did not help. I was only 21 free and happy and they spiked my drink. Will I ever reach myself back then? Perhaps no but I certainly reach others like yourself to tell them...I know how you feel.



    • ayngel boshemia profile image

      Ayngel Overson 

      9 years ago from Crestone, Co

      It has taken me all day to read your story... my heart goes out to you in so many ways. So much of our stories are different, but so many similar things are there as well. One of the hardest hings for me to swallow is that the constitution tells us that a criminal is innocent until proven guilty.... but in reality the rape victim is guilty until proven innocent.

      We should have done this differently, we shouldn't have done that. If I had let him complete the rape then it would have been a rape... but since I did fight back it wasn't really a rape.

      I believe you. I just want you to know that, and if you EVER need to talk I am a trained advocate now. I am always willing to listen.

      Much love and peace


      Oh and do you mind if I link this on my Survivor Story lens? Email me and let me know. I'd like to get as many survivor stories as possible for people to see...

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      Thanks for clarifying, DAnnieB - yes indeed, we need to be VERY angry that this kind of treatment still goes on![in reply to DAnnieB]

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      [in reply to DAnnieB] The heart break was because we weren't close enough for me to be able to reach out to you at that time. Of course I was dealing with an abusive marriage at that time, even if I had known where you were and what you were dealing with, I wouldn't have been allowed to reach out. Hmmmm, I sense a personal lens coming....

    • DAnnieB LM profile imageAUTHOR

      DAnnieB LM 

      9 years ago

      [in reply to Val_Bonney] Thanks for that hug Val! I think I may need to go back and edit a big to clarify that this poem was written in 1994 -- its only one of the things I used to heal!

      Yes, anger for my mistreatment is still there - I get the logic and human frailties of Detective Bunny and partner - I can forgive him as one human to another. The anger I now feel is no longer the bitter weapon or tool of self-pity it was then. It's more a banner to bring awareness that this still goes on, the judging of victims as to how likely their story is true. And this isn't just done by men, it isn't just done by police. We all need to look within whenever we hear of a rape on another human being.

      Sharing this 1994 poem is like clearing the attic. I've never shared it with anyone before - it was in a drawer. When I pulled it out, I thought - this needs to be shared! There's a message in there somewhere - and it isn't "poor me".

      Again, thanks for your hug and your kind words!!!

    • DAnnieB LM profile imageAUTHOR

      DAnnieB LM 

      9 years ago

      [in reply to SimeyC]

      Hi, Simey - thanks so much for your kind words! There were, of course, many men who did understand but this piece wasn't about that... It was just one piece of how I dealt with my rape - this is the anger side of the coin!

      Yes, I've recovered! Thank you so much for that wish :) This actually was a turning point for me, causing me to open my heart which had been shut down due to my father's death 16 years earlier. Trauma can do that! So there was a silver lining in there.

      And it isn't entirely fair to mankind! I was in a therapy group run by a wonderful man, with several good people some of whom were males.

    • Simeyc1 profile image


      9 years ago

      Wow - I am so sorry about how you have been treated by men - not just the rapist....he has no excuse, but he is obviously sick - it's the men who treated you as if it was your fault that are just as sick.....6 weeks to have to be kidding - I hope that after nearly 30 years that you are close to recovering.....hopefully sharing this story will make MEN think and maybe somewhere a policeman will read this and change his methods....

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      DAnnieB - thank you so very much for sharing this experience in such an honest way. I felt very moved by your poem and the story that followed. Your understanding of the rapist's damaged psyche is admirable ... I hope that one day you will find a way to understand the policemen's damaged psyches, too, so that you will be able to truly free yourself from the damage they caused you. They had the power then ... don't let them hold it any longer!

      I don't want you to feel like a victim, but I do want to give you a supportive virtual hug. May all good things come to you and your loved ones in the future. Val xx

    • Kate Phizackerl1 profile image

      Kate Phizackerl1 

      9 years ago

      One of the most important lenses on Squidoo.

    • DAnnieB LM profile imageAUTHOR

      DAnnieB LM 

      9 years ago

      [in reply to Froggi]

      I appreciate the kindness and love, tender-hearted cousin! But, please, don't let your heart break! I like anger and outrage much more! One of the reasons it's difficult to share stories like this is that pity can make you feel like a victim rather than a survivor! What happened has only made me stronger and taught me a lot (no thanks to rapist or these a-holes I write about!) But again, thank you for your love -- you're a doll!

    • profile image


      9 years ago

      My heart is breaking reading this....I've been through some terrible things in my life but nothing to compare to this. I'm glad you survived and I'm glad you had the courage to write this. Love you cuz!


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