Sunday, September 30, 2018

A Letter To My Rapist

I was raped about a year ago, it happened at the bathhouse. In the last year, I thought that I had dealt with it. As one year since it happened came closer and closer, I kept thinking about it more and more. I kept replaying what happened in my mind, over and over. Whenever I would think about it, I was consumed with guilt and sadness.

In my last couple therapy sessions, I kept saying I wanted to write a letter to my rapist to work through what I was feeling. I did this previously, writing a letter to my dad and it worked well. Of course, I love to procrastinate and keep those feelings bottled up, so I kept putting it off. Well, finally, today, I wrote that letter. It was hard.

At one point I was so angry I punched my table, the next moment I was sobbing uncontrollably. I'm glad I finally did this, I needed to write that letter, get those feelings out. I feel like I ran a marathon but I also have a feeling of letting go. I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up tomorrow and the lower back pain I have had for over a month is all of a sudden starting to feel better. Here is the letter I wrote:

Fuck you! You rapist piece of shit. I said no. I told you to stop. I think about that night, all the time. I replay it over and over in my mind. Sometimes I wonder what I could have done differently. I get angry when I wonder this. I didn't need to do anything different. You did!

You need to not be a rapist! When someone tells you to stop, you need to fucking stop! What? Were you annoyed that you weren't going to get to cum? FUCK YOU! You know what's worse than you not getting to cum?

Having you on top of me, your dick inside me, while you say no, when I asked you to stop. When I tried to get up and you pushed me back down. When I tried to yell NO louder and you put your hand over my mouth to silence me. I bit your hand, did that stop you? No, it didn't. You kept raping me. I withdrew consent and you didn't give a fuck. I was an object for you to use.

Everything started going dark. I remember thinking to myself "I can't believe this is happening." I could hear others in the bathhouse, chatting, having sex. Here I was, being raped, with dance music and sex noises as my soundtrack. I started checking out, going to my safe place, when all of a sudden, I thankfully got angry. I yelled "I fucking said no! Get off me!" I hit you on your side, I pushed back as hard as I could and threw you off me.

You landed on the floor, looking scared and saying "sorry, sorry, I didn't meat to" GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING MEANT TO! YOU RAPED ME! How dare you be fucking scared, you piece of shit rapist! I said no, several times. I asked you to stop.

You said no to me. You pushed me down, you covered my mouth. You knew what you were doing. After you left my room, I sat there, naked, alone, scared, crying. I thought "do I report this?" Then I imagined telling a police officer that I voluntarily went to the bathhouse. That I consented to sex with you. That I withdrew consent, but I was worried they would view me as a slut for being at the bathhouse. I worried they wouldn't take me seriously.

I've held this in for the last year. It's been eating away at me. That's on you! You raped me! You made me feel less than, scared, alone, sad, angry. I've felt guilty that you may have done this to others after me. Fuck you! I'm returning that guilt, that anger, that sadness back to you.

It's not my fault. You are responsible for you. I'm not allowing you to control me anymore. I did nothing wrong. It's not my fault.