Bad Judgement

S

So here we go again.  This actually is the third rape (fourth sexual assault) I have been through. It is the most recent, and therefore the freshest on my mind.  You might read this and think, "That girl was asking for it," or, "Well she was doing drugs so she deserved it."  (Trust me I have heard it all before.)  Before I tell you my story I just need to give a scenario.  Two guys are in a bar drinking and playing pool together.  They are having a good time, and decide to do some cocaine as well. Throughout the night they start squabbling, at first just mean words, but then a huge blowout happens. Man number one ends up beating man number two so badly, to the point where he ends up having lifelong effects like brain damage, anxiety, post traumatic stress disorder, etc... So my question for you, "Did man number two deserve to be put in the hospital and have lifelong effects simply because he was intoxicated from drugs and alcohol?"  Think about this while reading my story.

            When I was twenty-five I was very messed up in the head.  I still had never dealt with the various rape incidents from my past, and I had no support system what-so-ever (at least that was how I felt).  Drugs and alcohol were survival mode for me.  Obviously not the healthiest way of dealing with life, but it was all I knew at that point.  It's weird to say "drugs and alcohol saved my life," but for the time being they did.  If it were not for those vices I most definitely would have successfully committed suicide.  I still always wonder how my life would have turned if the three men who raped me when I was fifteen actually got prosecuted.  But...  They didn't..

            Anyways it was fall in the mountains, a relatively slow period in my town.  It's time for everyone to go out and relax with all the other locals.  I remember one of my exes, Jo, who I remained friends with (sort of) was in town (one of the nice guys I completely screwed over although he doesn't know the extent of it).  We were supposed to meet up to catch up, but for some reason it didn't happen, and this made me sad (just got so used to the feeling of being disappointed by men over and over again).  I went to a bar across the street from my house, my pattern of drinking until you're numb.  It was pretty slow, which is just what I needed at the time being.  My friend of six years "Jay" was there. We started talking, and had quite a few drinks together, shots included.

            Eventually we decided to take the party back to my house.  Jay was also my drug dealer, so I knew it would be a perfect chance to yet again do drugs so I didn't feel anything.  That was the thing about cocaine, it made me numb.  It made me forget life.  It made me forget my past.  I later learned that it only made it all worse, but sometimes we have to go through the bad to learn the good.  Jay fronted me a gram of cocaine, and I was going to pay him the next day.  Jay may have sold drugs, but honestly he didn't really do them himself, only the small dabble on occasion.  He did know how much myself along with many other lost females in this town loved to do them, and he took full advantage of that.  It was his way of getting women to trust him.  I can look back now and think how could I ever trust some scum bag who feels okay dealing drugs...  When you are a lost soul, you pretty much will 'trust" anyone who is willing to give you attention.

            I started doing a couple of lines, and Jay did one as well.  Then it was time for foilies.  That was my method of choice.  I had done so many lines in my life at this point, that they didn't affect me as much as they used to.  I think I had managed to completely destroy the nerves on the inside of my nostrils.  Freebasing was a better option for me - chasing the dragon.  Jay definitely was not into using in that method, so he left for a little bit to go back to the bar to let his friend know he was going to stay with me.  I proceeded to do a couple more foilies, and I was feeling great, or not feeling at all, or something like that.  Whatever it was, I wasn't thinking about the bad, only nothingness.  I liked nothingness and emptiness.  It was much better than pain.

            Jay finally gets back, and we decide watching a movie sounds great.  I wanted to go down to my bedroom, as I knew I would eventually fall asleep, and my couch was so uncomfortable.  Besides Jay and I had just had a conversation about how we loved the way our relationship was, and how we never even tried to have sex with each other, and that was a great thing.  Yeah, his way of grooming or gaining more trust I suppose.  I am sure I wasn't the first female he has said those words to, and I have proof that I am not the last.  I was also a very nice person, and I had slept in beds platonic-ally with many of my male friends.

            We go downstairs and put the movie FRIDAY in.  That used to be my favorite movie, but to this day I can't stand to even hear that title.  It makes me cringe.  It makes me throw up in my mouth some. It makes me cry.  I have a panic attack.  Flashbacks come like crazy.  Nightmares.  All from one of the funniest movies out there...  Mostly, it FUCKING PISSES ME OFF...  (I truly miss being able to watch this movie, but I guarantee I will NEVER EVER in my life be able to)

            We were laying there and laughing together.  We were both fully clothed.  Jay starts kind of poking me in the side of my thigh with his nasty dick.  I kept saying, come on, what are you doing, I don't think so.  At first, harmless so I thought ( I mean every guy at least has to try right???  FUCK THAT).  Then he starts becoming more persistent.  The poking is happening more often, and he is becoming more and more forceful.  My bed was set up so you could only get out on one side, and I was on the side next to the wall.  I remember scooting farther and farther over, eventually becoming completely cornered.  Soon, there was no more room for the scooting.  Jay was able to corner me, and he is a hell of a lot bigger than me, and I am highly intoxicated.  I keep saying, "No Jay, what are you doing?"  But he doesn't stop.  Maybe if I was sober I would have just stood up and made him leave or called the cops on him.  But I wasn't, and I was weak.  I had been partying for 10 years at this point, and my body was not strong at all.

            Finally he manages to pull my pants down far enough to where he was able to get his dick in.  I remember the second he entered like it was yesterday.  I was filled with rage, anger, sadness, depression, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, and so many more things  "No Jay, please."  I kept saying it, and I'm sure it wasn't that loud, but it felt like I was screaming at the top of my lungs.  Why wasn't he listening, we were friends?  Why wasn't he stopping, we just talked about the greatness of a nonsexual relationship?  Why wasn't he fucking listening to me, I was saying no? WHY WHY WHY???  Still to this day those questions linger...  I HATE the why's and maybe's.

            He enters, and I keep saying no and trying to stop, but I'm fucked up.  I'm crying.  Why the fuck would you want to have sex with a crying chick?  I don't get it.  Not one little bit.  I don't know how long this actually goes on for.  One second of violation seems like a lifetime.  I just remember finally being able to lean forward and grab my curtains, and use them to pull me out of the situation.  I ripped them out of my wall, but at least this bastard wasn't inside me anymore.  I ran upstairs and sat on the couch confused and crying.  He never came up after me, he just laid in my bed acting like nothing bad just happened.  I cried for awhile, and then for some crazy reason I went back downstairs to sleep. Maybe I wanted to pretend it didn't happen, maybe I felt like I did something to cause it. Once again, MAYBE MAYBE MAYBE...

            We both go to sleep and I get up in the morning to go to work.  Jay of course, acted as nice as can be, because that's what his type does.  They know if they act nice that a girl like me is going to question what happened.  I am going to put the blame on myself instead of on those who are actually to blame.  I had the convoluted thought process that I was doing drugs, so somehow I made it happen.  Sadly that is a thought process many people hold.   Still though, I knew something was amiss.  I didn't feel right.  I felt violated.  I went to work and Jay went to do whatever, probably collect all his cocaine money.

            I called up my best friend Jolie, who was also a lost soul like myself, and who also used Jay as a drug dealer.  "Jolie, he fucking raped me."  I remember spitting those words out.  Even saying them to her I doubted myself.  So I told her the whole story and cried and cried and cried.  Jolie really did care about me, but both of our minds were so screwed from all the cocaine.

            I had this stupid thought that I was not going to pay Jay for the cocaine, and I was going to let him know that he just learned a fifty dollar lesson that no means no.  That makes sense right?  Yeah not so much.  I called up Jay and he came over.  I could barely look at him, and containing my tears was hard.  I told him that I said no, and why would he do that?  He said sorry, I thought you wanted it.  Okay, so saying no means yes?  I don't get it.  I told him I wasn't going to pay him, and hope he learned his lesson (yeah I sure showed him).

            A week or so went by, and I kept hurting more and more.  I was drinking very heavily and trying to stuff my body with as many drugs as possible.  There was something inside of me, that piece of my soul that hadn't been taken away, that knew that this path was going to keep getting uglier and uglier.  So I reached out, in a very weird way.  I had a MySpace account back then (I don't anymore, but loved it back then).  I wrote this blog about what had happened, leaving all names out, but explaining the story.  I stated that I needed help in a serious way and that I didn't know where to go for it.

            This girl that was a MySpace friend, that I knew through another friend of mine responds to me. She gives me a phone number for Advocates for Victims of Assault, and strongly recommends calling them.  I was finally at a place where I wanted to make things better.  I didn't want pain any more (pain was all I felt when I wasn't numb from drugs and alcohol). I didn't want to continue my downward spiral.  I wanted help.

            I made the call.  Somehow though I was contacted with a town that has the same name as mine, but in another state.  The day for my appointment comes.  I drive around my town (that I know very well as I have lived there for 23 years at this point) and I can't find the damn address.  In fact - it doesn't exist.  This is almost enough for me to completely give up.  I have FINALLY reached out to try and get help, and I am shut down immediately.  Luckily I have this strength inside of me that isn't willing to give up.  I know this is not my plan.  I know it will get better.  I am a survivor.

            I go back home and get on the computer.  I look up advocates, and finally find the number for the chapter where I live, not in another state (I kind of thought something was weird with the phone number I dialed before due to the area code, but I figured it was somebodies cell phone).  I call them up and am answered by this amazing lady Shana  Shana says lets meet for lunch asap and we can talk. So a few hours later I meet this stranger across the street from my house at a coffee shop.  I completely break down to her.  I tell her everything about my most recent rape (I of course leave the childhood one out, because I still blame myself for it at this point).

            Shana is the first person I have dealt with since my childhood rape that fully believes everything I say.  I even told her I was doing drugs, and she didn't question or doubt me, she just received me with open arms.  She showed me more support in twenty minutes than I had been shown my entire life.  Shana quickly became my hero, the one who saved me.  We are still friends to this day, and I will forever cherish her and everything she has done for me, and really all she did was listen and believe.

            Shana lets me know that advocates will set me up with a counselor for free, and if I want to go to the police about the situation, she will be there right next to me the entire journey.  For the first time in my life I felt validation.  That is an amazing thing for a sexual assault victim.  So, for may different reasons, I make the decision that I want to go ahead and press charges on my rapist.  I think maybe part of me knew that I had to stop this man from hurting other innocent women.  Shana takes me to the local cop shop.  Now of course, I was apprehensive, especially after the last experience.  But I had someone who believed me who promised she wouldn't leave my side.  We go into the interrogation room TOGETHER (already a world of difference from my last reporting experience).  This time, instead of being greeted by a very intimidating male officer, I am welcomed by the warmest female officer in existence.

            Right away I knew this time would be different.  Here I am, in this room with two very amazing ladies who believe every word I say, and aren't judging me because I was drunk, or high on cocaine when the incident happened.  Reporting is a hard process in itself.  You have to relive your rape, in every detail you can remember (Seriously they want to know the size of his thing, how long was it in, was it forceful, was it fully hard, was he kissing you, where, what color where your sheets,etc.).  Being intoxicated makes it hard to recall everything.  I sit through and relive the nightmare.  It was hard, but Shana was right next to me the entire time holding my hand.  We had to stop a LOT as I was crying A LOT.  I get through it though.  I finally get done reporting.

            After the report was officially made I had a couple of choices.  I could open an investigation on him, and get the process going.  I could keep it where it was standing, as an open report only, but no investigation.  Or I could drop the case.  I was terrified of going to court.  After going through everything I had in my life I knew how judgmental people could be.  I knew people would question me because of my past, the drugs, promiscuity, etc.  I did not want to go through everything only to have the bastard walk free.  So I left it as an open report, but it never went into the investigation process.  The officer knew of the man I was speaking of from other prior investigations unrelated.   She told me regardless she was going to keep looking, and trying to make it so we could get a surefire conviction.

            I told my friend Jolie what was going on.  I thought she would be supportive of me.  But I forget, we are both addicts at this time.  Instead of being supportive to me, she calls up Jay and lets him know I had been to the police and made a report and I was planning on pressing charges.  Then, she tells me that she did this...  It still doesn't make sense to me five years later.  Again, the thing a lost soul will do.  After I find this information out, I decide to drop the case completely.  He knew now, so I can't be sneaky about anything.  I have no chance of a conviction (this is my thinking, not sure what my chances would have been).  I told my police officer if anyone else came forward about him I would be willing to reopen my case with theirs to help secure a conviction.

            A couple of months go by and I am slowly starting to heal, and my drug usage has gone WAY down.  Advocates hooked me up with the most amazing counselor, another hero of mine.  I honestly know I would be dead if it wasn't for the two amazing advocates in my life.  My police officer calls me up and asks if I can come down to the station.  She has some things to talk about, and it would be better in person.  I call up Shana and ask her to come with me, and of course she would have it no other way.

            I get to the station and the officer sits me down and tells me that someone else that I had no ties to recently came forward about my perpetrator.  She also lets me know that after some digging she was able to find that he was convicted of rape in 1994 in another state (remember this is happening in 2006/2007).  Am I willing to reopen my case?  This hit me hard - I didn't go through with my investigation, and now he has done the same thing to another woman.  I had also found out that he had done the same thing to two of my friends within weeks of my assault.  I was sickened.  This guy HAD to be stopped.  He is just going to keep doing this over and over and over until he is put in his place - prison being anally raped by BUBBA.

            I let my officer know I am more than willing to reopen.  She tells me basically they are going to wire this girl and have her go talk to Jay, and hopefully he will say on tape that he knows what he did was wrong.  Then our cases could go to court, and hopefully have the proof we need to lock him up!

I leave, and honestly have a little relapse.  I was so depressed that this monster was walking around, assaulting hundreds of women by this point, and every person in this town fucking worships the ground he walks on and thinks he is one of the most awesome people ever (I used to think that about him too, so I do understand).  IT KILLS ME.  So I need to numb myself again.  No more pain, please God, no more pain.  So back to the whack world of crack.

            Another month goes by and I am super depressed, although nobody I am encountering sees it.  I have a job that I work 60+ hours a week at.  I am a fully functioning person. I am a great actress.   I hear nothing back from the cop shop, so I give them a call.  I find out the girl got scared like I did, and dropped the case.  FUCK.   I still wasn't strong enough to bring my case to the system all by myself.  I still had doubts in my mind.  I still kept telling myself that if I didn't do drugs that night nothing would have happened.

            I ran into him a few months or so after everything had happened. I was still in my numbing phase, so highly intoxicated, and I am sure cocaine was involved too.  I definitely had done some acid this evening.  My rage took over.  I walked up behind him and punched him in the back of the head.  He turned around and I kicked him the balls (and of course I am sobbing during all of this).  He starts choking me, and my friends get me off of him and take me outside.  "I know he deserves it, but don't go to jail because of him," they kept saying to me.  There is a time and a place for everything, and that was NOT IT.

            It's now been nearly five years since Jay raped me.  I still have to see that monster on occasion.  It's a small town.  We are bound to run in to each other at the grocery store, post office, restaurants, bars, etc,  It KILLS me to see him, especially because there are always females around him.  Females that remind me of myself five years ago.  I know some of them will fall victim like I did.  I wish I could stop it.  If I mention the word rape and the name Jay in the same sentence people claim me to be a false accuser.  So I have learned to control the urges. I also finally am no longer visibly affected by him.  Like I said, it KILLS me, but he doesn't know that anymore.