Whatever the details are, it’s always the perpetrators fault
To the person who posted about perpetrators always being someone who is important to their victim: I find that really difficult. I understand that generally most people are close the the person who abuses or exploits them but I wasn't. I wasn't close to the family friend and I want close to the men who sold and shared girls in my home town. I understand that people are groomed and that perpetrators manipulate victims and convince them they love them and care for them and then hurt them. But this doesn't apply to any of the men who hurt me (except one). I hated them the whole time, I hated what they were doing every single second. I was angry with myself for 'allowing things to happen' even though they hadn't managed to trick and manipulate me into loving them, caring for them, trusting them, or thinking that they cared about me. I hated them and I knew they hated me. I hated what they did. I hated it from the first moment to the last. It made me want to die. So is it my fault, given that they weren't important people to me should I have been able to escape sooner? This drives me mad. Given that I had more opportunities in life and privilege than many of my friends, should I have been able to keep away, to protect myself, to keep myself safe? This is the shit that goes round my head. And I thought they would kill me, I thought I was going to die and what are you supposed to do with that? What are you supposed to do when you're just a child and you don't understand why they hate you so much, why they want to make you hurt. Why? How can anyone enjoy causing pain? I don't get it. I thought they would kill me. And maybe that is my stupid head telling me stupid stories but then R was killed by her rapist bastard dad. And I was a little kid, every time it happened I became like the first time. And I felt rage at myself for acting like a small child instead of like a young teenager. Imagine if I had felt and behaved like a 13 or 14 year old when it started happening again. Maybe they wouldn't have hurt me. Maybe they would have stopped. But you know that's not what happened. What happened was that I felt and behaved like a young child again, and it reminded me of the first time. They seemed to like that I became a little kid when they hurt me. I fucking hate them. I wish they were all fucking dead. I hate that I know that if the details of my abuse were different then i would probably still turn in hate on myself. When it's not my fault. It's never the victims fault. Saying that perpetrators are always someone important to victims really doesn't fucking help. There is no always, it's always different. The only always is that it's ALWAYS the perpetrators fault.
We do NOT give permission for posts to be reproduced, translated or otherwise published elsewhere. We will not contact people who submit their personal experiences on behalf of journalists, bloggers or other third sector organisations. These testimonies remain the intellectual copyright of their authors and must be treated with the ethical guidelines used by academics for research involving human subjects. Our full guidelines can be read here.