TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of statutory rape as well as victim shaming and blaming
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You bought me alcohol, smokes, and weed
Gifts laced with darkness, planting a sinister seed
Your words were sweet, but your actions cold
I was young and naïve, only 15 years old
You weren’t kind, your heart was stone
Forceful hands, a cruel undertone
When I said no, your anger grew
The guilt you spun, a web I fell into
Threats of leaving, echoes in the night
A twisted promise, wrapped in fright
Even my body’s natural cry
Was not enough to pacify
You were 21, supposed to be grown
But your soul was cruel, your true colors shown
A predator, lurking in the guise of care
Leaving me broken, in despair
When the truth was finally revealed
Both our families turned the wheel
Blame fell on me, a child betrayed
While you walked free, unscathed, unfazed
They saw a scandal, not a crime
They chose silence, time after time
A young girl’s voice, silenced by shame
A dark story, forgotten by name
But deep within, the scars remain
A silent testament to my pain
Yet, I rise, though shadows stay
Finding strength, in each new day
For I am more than what you made
A survivor, my spirit unafraid
In the ashes of what you’ve done
I find the courage to overcome
I've posted about my 21 year old boyfriend before. I was just 15 years old. Let me say for the record that in the beginning, it was my fault. However, the second he found out, BEFORE any sexual contact was made, he should've cut off contact. He was the adult, and I felt guilty after a week of talking to him on the phone. We hadn't even met yet when I told him I was only 15.
How did we meet? There was this phone dating service in the early 2000's. I don't remember the name of it. Of course, you had to be 18, and of course I lied to the phone thingy. My introduction said that I was a high school senior and that I was 18. I was actually a high school sophomore and I was only 15. The 21 year old responded. We exchanged phone numbers. We talked for about a week on the phone, maybe less. I told him that I was only 15. His response was a little shocked, but he said to me, "I'm already invested, let's meet and see how it goes." I don't remember where we went, but he picked me up in his Toyota, stick shift truck, right in front of my house. We talked for a little bit, kissed a lot, and we decided that we would tell my mother that he is only 17, and tell his family that I am 17. He took me back to his house, and we had sex. We had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot. He was very experienced and I was not. He bought me lots of alcohol, cigarettes, and got me high, a lot. My friends knew his age and he got them high and drunk a lot too.
My mother and I had a planned trip to our home state, (where I now live) and I didn't want to separate for an entire weekend from my cool, 21 year old boyfriend. I asked my mother if he could come with, and she told me I had to call my Grandpa and ask. I did, and I made up some story to my Grandpa about how his parents kicked him out and he had nowhere to go, so, he came with us. My mother drove in her car, and my boyfriend and I rode in the backseat together. He was often putting his hands down my pants and laughing...
On the way back home, in a major, very busy city, he decided to tell my mother how old he is. He told me that he felt guilty for lying and that he wanted our relationship to work. He said the only way for it to ever work, is to tell her his age, and to tell his family my age. He did. Right smack dab in the middle of so much traffic. My mother had trouble not slamming on the breaks.
We got home, he got in his truck and went home. Of course my mother and I started fighting. She told me I couldn't see him anymore. I screamed at her that I was in love with him, and pleaded and begged for her to not make me end the relationship. I convinced her to at least sleep on it. Yes! She decided to sleep on it and give me an answer in the morning. The answer was still no. She told me that if I didn't end it, she was going to turn him in. Yes, that is actually what she said to me. (Later in life she would tell me that she didn't call the police because it wasn't worth ruining someone's life over a dirty little slut, or something similar.)
Every single person blamed me. My mother blamed me. His family blamed me. I loved his sister. She was the same age as me, just a few months younger. I loved his older sister too, who was actually 17. I remember the older sister reaching out to me through yahoo messenger, telling me how angry she was and that her brother could go to prison and how could I do this to him? I'm assuming he told them a different version of how it went down. But even IF I didn't tell him for a while how old I was, he knew. My mother knew he knew, because he made a point to tell her while driving in one of the biggest cities in the country, and told her how much he loves me. Any halfway smart person would know that he's known for a while and yes, my mother knew we were sexually active. I was the one blamed for this "Relationship." I was the one shamed and guilted for doing what any 15 year old would think is cool. I did the right thing by telling him my real age before we met. But it's my fault he bought me cigarettes. It's my fault he got me high on a regular basis. It's my fault he got me drunk all the time, and it's my fault he slept with an underage girl, not even of legal consent age in the state, which was and still is 16. Which would classify the statutory rape as rape verses statutory rape. It was all my fault. I should've known better...
Even after everyone knew, he would still lurk around. He would still pressure me into having sex with him by manipulating me and making me feel guilty. I'd often skip school. He'd be waiting in his white Toyota truck down the street. We'd get high, drunk, and have sex. He even hid me in his bedroom once, for an entire weekend. He took me to his friends house for an entire week once, when I ran away from home to be with him. He showed up at my house one day around 1AM and I just happened to be awake in the living room. I remember it scared the shit out of me because I saw someone staring in through the patio door. I saw it was him and opened the door. He literally started begging me for sex. I told him I was on my period, and I was. He convinced me to come in. He yet again, convinced me to have sex with him despite how many times I told him no. (Which happened often after we broke up, me saying no.) As usual, I eventually gave in. We went downstairs in the basement. He told me to grab a towel so there wouldn't be a mess. We had sex and he left.
He stalked me for 4 years and didn't stop until I was 9 months pregnant with my son, at 18 years old. He would call from random numbers, from payphones, from his work phone. I would often see him driving down the street, and see him at places there's no way he could know I was at unless he'd been following me for quite some time. I couldn't call the police though, because then my mother would have to explain to the police what was going on. Her image would be ruined! She knew of some of his stalking habits, and the phone calls. She never said a word, and I don't think she ever second guessed her decision to not call the police, even though this man was harassing and stalking me. This man now has quite the record. He was charged with robbing a bank at gunpoint, felony stalking, battery and assault, eluding a police officer and more. He is currently, as I write this, in prison agian, not sure what for though.
I reached out to him after my suicide attempt, still not knowing it was all wrong. We talked for a couple of days. I was looking, no, craving that connection, any connection, craving to feel something other than the pain and misery of wanting to die. He did not want to meet up, which was clearly for the best.
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