Sexual Violence, Rape, and Abuse Survivor Stories

Read the inspiring and powerful stories of survivors of violence and abuse. Are you a survivor wanting to learn about your legal options? Visit our Justice Hotline webpage.

child sex abuse family rape survivor

16 Years Old in Liverpool, NY | #WeShatterSilence | Let This Story Be Heard By Clicking Share

I have been sexually abused in my lifetime and taken advantage enough times. My 2nd oldest brother sexually molested me when i was 9 & 10 years old. It would of continued if i didn’t start to feel scared more & more often. My parents only found out about it Christmas night of 2004, and im not saying theyre bad parents, but they did nothing. They cried & blamed themselves and when my 2 other brothers confronted the one, he denyed it all. And no punishment was brought against him and he still lives here. I will never forgive him for it but i’ve been trying to forget about it. As a direct effect in my opinion, i started having sex when i was 14. I didn’t ever sleep around with anyone. They all meant something & promised me they wouldn’t hurt me, typical guy’s lies. But i think i was forced to grow up and be more mature. I’ve been thinking about going to meetings for any of this plus the more secrets i consume to myself. I live with it and have survived it so far.

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teen sex abuse family rape survivor

20 Years Old in Boulder, CO | #WeShatterSilence | Let This Story Be Heard By Clicking Share

I’m not really sure how old I was when it started. I remember a few little thing: an inappropriate touch in the swimming pool, him always wanting me to wear dresses. So, I wore the dresses and didn’t think about it except when the PE teacher got mad that I wore dresses on PE day. There were other concerns in my young life.

But, then, when I was 8, my parents sent me to stay with him alone. I still have the journal I started that vacation. I wrote about my plane trip and one more day, but after that some events required words that weren’t in my vocabulary. I stopped writing in the journal. That night I was taking a shower and he was “helping” me. This means he was sitting there watching me. I remember he got up–there were two sets of doors leading into the bathroom and he closed both of them. I’m not sure where my grandmother was. He said I was old enough and he was going to “teach” me something. He told me to get out and lie down on the floor. There was a white rug. Part of my back was on that and part was on the white tile floor. It wasn’t clean, but that doesn’t matter- I wasn’t going to be clean for much longer.

He told me to bend my legs. He separated my legs with one hand on my left knee and put his finger inside me. I said (or whispered): “Please, no, that hurts.” He said: “Bad girls say it hurts. Good girls like it. You want to be good, don’t you?” He sounded irritated and determined. Then came the space. I would get familiar with these spaces over the years to come. This one wasn’t as scary because I didn’t know what was coming and I didn’t know if I’d be moved I’d be hurt- that all came later. He always took his time after. I think he liked to see me lying there– it turned him on. He would use this space to prepare himself- it took a while for him to get an erection. Sometimes just me lying there was enough. Sometimes he would invent an excuse, (like that I was moving) to jam his finger into me a few more times. Sometimes he needed me to whimper to turn him on, but he didn’t need any of that this time. From the few times I opened my eyes, he was rubbing himself. Then he got on top of me. He was an old man. It took him a while to get down. Then he was inside of me and the pain overshadowed everything else. It felt like I was being split apart. I begged him to stop. He told me I had to learn and that if I was good it wouldn’t hurt so I must be bad. All I really remember is pain and fear that I could taste. When he was done I was so dirty inside- I don’t know if it was his semen or my blood or both. But he wiped me and put the paper in the toilet and flushed it away. As he pulled up his pants and told me to put on my underwear and clothes, he told me I had been bad and hadn’t learned, so he would have to do this again. He said if I told anyone they would know how bad I was and would hate me. He forced me again, the first of many times that night in bed. It would be 10 years before I told anyone.

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teen sex abuse survivor (1)

16 Years Old in Boca, FL | #WeShatterSilence | Let This Story Be Heard By Clicking Share

I was sexually assaulted by my boyfriend when I was fourteen. I don’t remember much and I guess I might have blacked out from fear. My two friends found out the next day. One moved and one doesn’t talk to me anymore. If it weren’t for the support of one good male friend. I don’t know how I would be able to control my anger. And who knows my ex might have tried to manipulate me again. I didn’t press charges. I’m afraid I’d be called a liar. My school did nothing. He wasn’t allowed near me but when they saw him try to hug me, they just stood there while I stood scared. I won’t be scared anymore.

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teen sex abuse survivor

14 Years Old in Antioch, TN | #WeShatterSilence | Let This Story Be Heard By Clicking Share

My story happened about 6 months ago: I went out with this guy for about a year. About six months into our relationship, he got to be sort of controlling. As we went “on and off,” continuously breaking up and getting back together, he just got more controlling. He would constantly put me down, and my friends could see it. They told me what they thought of him, but I wouldn’t be swayed. I refused to see any bad in him. After we went out only two months, we had sex. I was convinced I was in love. I would do anything for him, and he knew it. Then everything turned sexual for him. I can still feel him carressing me “down there” in a public swimming pool. I felt so dirty, but I refused to admit I was wrong about him. All he wanted to do was have sex, and I didn’t. Then, one day, he was at my house, as usual, and we had fought, again, because I wasn’t “in the mood.” He finally gave up and we layed on my bed watching tv. I was soon half asleep. He wispered my name, but I was too tired to ans!wer. I just figured he wanted to ask me to have sex again or something, and I didn’t feel like dealing with that. So I layed still. He began to caress my body. By then I was used to that, as he “touched” me often, but never for long. He then got on top of me, moved my shorts aside, and penetrated. I froze in shock. How disgusting was he that he would have sex with an unconcious person? I began to move as though I was “waking up,” but he didn’t stop. I jumped. Who was this man on top of me? It couldn’t be the man I loved, could it? But it was. I began to fight him off of me, but with no prevail.He was much stronger than me, I was left defenseless. After I struggled for a few seconds, he stopped, pulled me to him, and held me. I just sat there and cried. What was all this? He said to me, “Sshh. It’s okay. You know I’d never hurt you. I love you, and you love me too.” I was in shock. I didn’t tell anyone. It happened again. He seemed relentless. We b!roke up. I turned to “self-mutilation” and anorexia, which caused me to lose 20 pounds (I was five foot seven and weighed 135lbs at the time-I went down to 115lbs and was horribly thin). My friends were worried and took me to the school counselor. But no matter what, I wouldn’t admit it was my ex’s fault. It was mine. After months of going back out with him and breaking up time and again, I decided to end it. Even after being without him for a while, I had nightmares every night, and still do. But after a while I couldn’t take it anymore. I told my closest friends. They were not suprised, but they didn’t say it. They held me as I cried. He still has no idea that I told anyone. Some of my friends are now urging me to tell an adult, but I’m scared to find out what he would do if he found out. I pray to God everyday to help me through this. Slowly I can feel my voice again.

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abuse survivor story

15 Years Old in St. Petersburg, PA | #WeShatterSilence | Let This Story Be Heard By Clicking Share

you see their stories, you say how sad, you hope you never have the same fear they had, it goes on forever in a shadow of hate, you will never know who all had the same fate, it might be painful it may make you cry, but you will never know why most of them die, when they said those words of hurt and pain, when those thoughts of death run through their veins, they will never fill clean no matter what they do it will haunt them for life, their stories maybe even ending with a knife, you see their stories you say how sad, does’nt this poem make you so {…} sad.

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