29 years ago but it feels like yesterday
I just saw pictures of my rapist on Facebook. I last saw his face when I was a naive, scared, 19-year-old. He stole my virginity and I'm still angry that my first sexual experience was violent. I wish I could give my virginity to my fiancé, but I can't, and it's a loss that I'll never get over. Some aspects of sex scare me, time has never healed that. My rapist was 35, someone I dated. I cling to fragments of memories to quiet my rapists voice. That day I was wearing an ankle length skirt, and a blouse that buttoned to my neck, as if those details mattered. I remember crying. The pain was overwhelming, and as I was begging him to stop, telling him aloud that he was raping me, he said "no, I'm not" during the assault. The insanity of that verbal exchange still haunts me. What makes a 35-year-old rape a naive teenage girl? Why did I believe him when he said he'd kill my family if I ever told? I just looked up the statue of limitations and it's long past. My 48-year-old self wishes I could talk to that scared 19-year-old and tell her to go to the police and report it. Part of me wants to go on social media and tell everyone what he did. He had three daughters, and several grandchildren. There's so much more awareness and support now. If this happens to you, please consider reporting it before time runs out. I wish I had.
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