"C'mon, baby," He purred, tugging at my jeans. "You always enjoy it." "Not this week, hunny," I whispered, kissing his scraggly face. I gazed, entranced into his icy eyes, his rugged face blonde and handsom. Something was different this week. Way different. His hands tightened on my body. I struggled and he gripped tighter. "Hunny, you're hurting me." Nothing I said seemed to go through to him. And soon, I gave in. It wasn't worth getting beaten up over, right? I mean, it was just sex! Even if I didn't want to and said no, it was no big deal, right? He was twenty-two. I was fourteen. He knew better than me. I was just being foolish. Right? One time led to two, and three....and soon it became a sort of schedule. I'd say no, I didn't want to. My prayers that he'd finally say "alright, baby, alright," went unheard. He'd darken bits of flesh on my arms with his grip and I'd give in. Not worth it, I'd scold myself, it wasn't worth it. Didn't help that I was addicted. No one else loved me. My sister had closed herself off, or so it seemed. My mother didn't care, as long as I didn't fight with everyone. My grandmother hated me. She thought I was a dirty tramp anyways. Might as well give her what she wanted. And, I mean, it wasn't really rape, right? I let him have me, so it couldn't be rape. It just couldn't be. This was my fault. The self-loathing deep down was a mysterious thing. I didn't think it was self-loathing. It was everyone else hating me. Hating who I was, blaming me for what had happened those few months ago. All my fault, always my fault. I threw up at least once a week. But I didn't know why. I was sick, the flu or something. Never self-loathing, I loved myself. My grades were dropping. My friends could hardly stand me. I was addicted. Not to drugs, no. I was addicted to him. My belief that he knew best was through. He had me good and hooked. I ate everything up, because he was all I had. He was my heroin. And right then, it was good for me. He knew I "needed" it, so he gave it to me. Even when I begged him no. He gave it to me. When he dissapeared, I dropped the addiction. I fixed myself. My grades are back up to a 3.5 gpa. My friends love me. The love of my life now doesn't force himself on me. He treats me like a goddess. And I love him. Life is worth living still. I have everything ahead of me. I got lucky. I'm sharing this with you, because I know what it's like. I know how it is to think he knows best. To think that he loves you. The after-effects were awful. They still are. The constant calls of obscenities. They never stop once they start. My hope that you have found something to help you in this is unending. Stop the addiction. It really is rape.
Is it really rape?
September 1, 2007