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I'm not sorry your dead

Updated on August 22, 2016


I was raped when I was fourteen by a man in his twenties.
I didn't know him and I'd never met him before that night.
I was babysitting for some friends of the family. The wife worked with my dad and the husband owned a Sub shop, which I later worked at.
They lived on a secluded dirt road, which led to a few other small, shack like houses. I later found out that he lived in one of those shacks with his family.
I don't remember what he drove or even what he looked like other than he had dark hair.
I blocked out a lot of it, but I believe you can't completely move forward without dealing with and processing things.
The little girl I was watching was two or three. I had put her to bed after dinner like I had been told to do.
I heard a car coming down the road, it's tires crunching on the rocks. I looked out the window to see if they had come home early.
Their house was the first one on the road, so every car had to pass by.
The car slowed down and stopped. I watched as the driver leaned over the passenger seat, a smile on his face. He waved and motioned for me to come outside. I backed away from the window, thinking that was weird.
I heard him drive away towards the other houses.
About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I opened the curtain and saw the guy from the car. He was holding something in his hand. He said they had gotten their mail by mistake.
I opened the door slightly, and reached for the mail, just as he pushed his way inside the house.
I was afraid and shocked. I didn't know what to do.
The papers he was holding fell to the floor, almost in slow motion.
He asked me where they were and I told him they would be back soon, hoping they would be, but knowing they wouldn't.
"The baby is sleeping," I told him.
"Then you better be quiet and wake it up," he replied.
My mind was racing. Should I scream? No one would hear me and if she woke up, she'd be afraid. Should I fight? No, I was 5'2" and weighed 98 pounds, he was much bigger.
I ran for the phone and he grabbed me by my hair and pulled me away.
He dragged me over to the couch. I kept telling him no and to please stop, as I cried.
He pushed me onto the couch and I remember kneeing him in the crotch. That didn't stop him, all it did was make him angry. He put his forearm over my throat to hold me down while he tugged at my clothes.
The entire time that I was being raped, I think I checked out. I was physically there, but it was like it was happening to someone else. I remember staring at the little girl's doll that was on the floor. I guess I focused on that to take my mind off of what was happening to me.
When he was done and had grunted for the last time, he pulled up his pants and started walking towards the door, that's when I noticed he had a limp.
He turned to face me before going out the door and said with a smile, "I'll see you next time and you better keep quiet."
I felt sick to my stomach. I grabbed my clothes and quickly put them on. Then I ran to the door and locked it. I went to every window, locking them and closing the curtains.
I picked the papers up off the floor and noticed it was junk mail.
I felt the vomit burning at my chest and making it's way to my mouth as I ran into the bathroom.
After I had thrown up, I sat down at the kitchen table, unable to go to the couch. I held my knees to my chest and cried.
I didn't know what to do. If I told anyone, no one would believe me. It would be my word against his. I would be blamed for letting him in. At least that's what I thought then.
A few hours later, they came home and the husband drove me home
I didn't say a word to anyone as I jumped into the shower, trying to scrub him off me. There were bruises on my thighs, arms and neck.
Just an ugly secret to hold.

I was young and naive when that happened.
If that happened today, I would have reported his ass.
If this happened to a girl I know, I would tell her that I believe her, hug her and stand beside her while she reported it.

I found out a few weeks ago that he had died. I don't know how or when it happened and I don't care.
I'm not sorry that he's dead. I am relieved.
I don't think he had any remorse. I don't think he thought he did anything wrong.

Letter to Him
I'm not sorry you died.
You took something from me that I will never get back.
You violated me.
You forced me to do something I would have never done with you.
I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that.
I will never forget it.
I was a young girl and you were an adult, who knew better.
You ruined a part of me.
You ruined my trust and my spirit.
I had nightmares.
I became withdrawn.
I was afraid.

If you are ever raped or assaulted, report it.
You aren't alone.
I wish I'd known that.

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