My sister is 1 ½ years older than me and in high school she was the homecoming queen. I never got asked to the prom or the homecoming dances. I was a very shy and quiet little girl and teenager, not like my sister, who was always bubbly, talkative, and popular. I only had a few crushes on boys growing up. One was Danny in grammar school, and another two others guys in Junior high. I had only kissed boys at birthday parties when we played spin-the-bottle.
At 14 years old I met a guy named Joe, who was 17 years old at the Cellar, a teen dance club in Des Plaines, IL. He took down my phone number and one day he called me and invited me to his house. The day I went to Joe’s home was a warm summer’s day. I really can’t recall how I got to his home as he lived 5 miles away from me. I can only remember how I got home.
Joe lived in a corner ranch home in Mt. Prospect, IL off of Busse Road and just south of Central Road. I lived in Des Plaines, IL off of Golf Road and Rt. 83. I can see his house in my mind, and I know exactly where it is. I located it on a map. It is on a street called Bonita Avenue.
I can’t remember when I arrived if I knocked on the door to enter. As I entered his living room, I walked on hardwood floors over to a flowered couch that sat below the picture window. We both sat on the couch and began to chat. I wasn’t much of a talker, and don’t recall much of the conversation. My heart was making a pitter-patter from the excitement of being with this handsome guy. He leaned over and began to kiss me.
He then pushed my small-framed, 105-pound body onto the couch. He began kissing me more intensely. It was exciting.
Then all of a sudden, he began pulling my pants down and pulling his down too. I tried to push my body upwards and said “No, I need to sit up, but his body frame was very muscular and strong. My arms weren’t strong enough to push him away. I started to panic and became very scared. Then his penis was pushed with force into my virgin vagina. He pushed firmly and hard. He penetrated me hard, fiercely and cruelly, and ejaculated.
It was horrific pain. I could barely catch my breath. I could barely speak. I became frozen and in shock. He then stood up, pulled up his pants, and said, “I broke your cherry and made you a woman. You can now get up and leave. I was paralyzed in fear, and in shock at what had just occurred.
Somehow I managed to pull up my pants and walk out his front door. I walked along the curb of Busse Highway. I was bleeding and in pain. I could barely breathe. Tears were pouring down my cheeks.
I walked and walked and walked the long five miles home. Alone, confused, scared. When I got to Golf Road, I turned left and continued trembling with each step till I arrived at Rt. 83. I turned right. I was almost home. Just 7 more blocks. You can make it Jill, just keep pushing through the pain to Millers road and turn left. When you get to the 7th house on the right you will be safely home.
I don’t ever recall wanting to be home so badly as I did at this moment in time. The abuse at our home was better than the fear and pain out in the world of the unknown. I just wanted to find my bed. I wanted to go and hide. I finally made it to my driveway. Walking in the front door, I ran upstairs. I wanted to shower and wash away the blood and semen. Would the pain between my legs stop if I washed my body? Would my arms ever regain strength? They were so weak from trying to push Joe away and off of me. Would the inner thighs of my legs quit throbbing in pain? The veins felt like they had burst open.
I wanted to hide under my blankets. I felt so empty, confused, and lost. I never wanted to talk to boys again. Who could I trust to talk to? No one. I was utterly alone. Alone in the midst of my horror and pain. I knew if I told my mother she would blame me. I knew if I told my dad, he would kill him. I had to remain quiet and alone.
I hated myself and my body. I wished I could be invisible. I wanted to hide. I don’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be feminine. The next day when I got dressed, I put on my blue jeans, flannel shirt, and shit-kicker boots. I wanted to look like a boy. I wanted to hide my breasts and my beautiful figure. Please don’t look at me. I need to quit developing. If I begin to take white cross amphetamines, I won’t have an appetite and won’t eat anymore.
The less I eat, the more I won’t be seen. How many pills can I take at one time? Please help me lose my breasts. Please don’t look at me anymore. If I started smoking cigarettes I could numb out more. Give me some LSD and marijuana too and alcohol.
I begin sitting on the couch with my legs pulled up to my stomach to protect my vagina. My mom pulls them down angrily and tells me to sit like a lady. She doesn’t acknowledge my fear of being unprotected. I need more protection I need more and more things and substances to numb out with. I don’t want to ever remember that day. And so, I pushed it down for 25 years. I remained silent and kept it secret. My soul had been ripped out.
If you have been a victim of Sexual Abuse there is help. Please don’t sit alone in silence and believe it’s your fault. You are not alone. Please click on the link and call today. Brave Heart Workshops offers retreats on Body Image & Burden Releases.
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