Rape Survivor Knows It Isn’t Her Fault


"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will."
-Mahatma Gandhi

I had moved from California to Texas with my boyfriend in 1995. While we were living there, he decided he didn't like the commitment and we broke up. I had been working at a radio station and had a crush on Scott who also worked there. He and I had gone out as friends while I was with my boyfriend and I would tell him how things weren't going well. My boyfriend and I broke up at the end of June and I went out with Scott and his friends for 4th of July, 1995 (Scott had just quit the station). We got drunk as a group and partied all night.

He would kiss me and then say he felt funny about it since I was like a little sister to him. At the end of the night, we piled in his car and he began caressing me. We all returned to his house where he began to have an argument with another girl over money. I didn't want to deal with it, so I went into his bedroom. He came in and we began kissing. I liked him. I was thrilled we were together! He left the room for a bit and came back a different person.

He had been looking for a drug called ecstasy all night, but as far as I knew, he never found it. That's what he and the girl were fighting about. When he returned, in his underwear, he laid on top of me and we started fooling around. I wanted to have sex with him. But, after my clothes came off, he started acting strange. He would laugh in a sinister tone - that sounds almost silly, but it is true.

He rolled me on my stomach and anally raped me while I yelled and screamed. He slapped my backside and left huge red handprints. He rolled me back over. He began having sex with me and I stopped screaming. WHY? I don't know. I just laid there. He wanted me to yell his name and how great he was so his roommates would hear. I didn't. I tried to get up and he squeezed my arm (which left a nasty bruise) and then began pinching my nipples (when I got home, I found that my nipples had bled). We continued this way for I don't know how long...him yelling and laughing, me screaming and freezing.

When he was finally done, I just laid there. I either fell asleep or passed out. I woke to him touching my groin and telling me I was the best sex ever. I then got up and started dressing. He then called me a whore and slut and every other name he could think of. I went home. Showered. And did nothing. He called the next day as if nothing had happened and I just hung up.

Everyone would ask, "How was your 4th of July?" What do you say? I finally told a few friends that I was assaulted - not raped. One dragged me kicking and screaming to the police, where I cried and said I was to blame. I liked him. I wanted to be with him. I am to blame. Since there was no evidence and I blamed myself, the police had to let it go.

I went through so many emotions and phases - including a very nasty phase where I wanted revenge in the worst way. I left Texas shortly after that and returned to California. I had been sexual with others after the rape, but no one that I cared about. When I came back to California, I met David. He was the most caring person ever. After a bit of a whirlwind courtship, we got married in June of 1996.

Sex was never a problem until we were married and finding new depths in our love. I began to withdraw and not want him to touch me. I was having severe bouts of depression and didn't know why. When July 4th rolled around in 1998, I tracked Scott down and called him. He was happy to hear from me! I told him he was a rapist and that I hoped he rotted in hell. Then hung up. That gave me such a rush! But the depression got worse.

I finally went to a therapist in Sept. of 1998 and the healing began. Julie was wonderful! She specialized in rape counseling and let me know I wasn't alone. Although I didn't want to have the discussion we had, I knew I had to. She made me realize that, yes, I had been raped. Even if I wanted to have sex with Scott, I certainly didn't want anal sex. His slapping and twisting of my nipples was certainly not welcome.

I was the most hung up on not fighting him off. I had taken self defense! But, she pointed out that Scott is over 200 pounds and works out and while slapping and hurting me (125 pounds)...if I kept fighting, I may not have lived. That sobered me up. All the things I felt I was alone in, she could tell me many stories to match it. She made me face the demon to gain control.

I wrote a letter detailing what happened and mailed it to Scott. Now he can have a constant reminder of what he did. I feel much better and things with my husband have improved. Of course, there are some movies or news stories that I can' t watch. David and my mom are the two closest people to me, but I can't tell them the details. I want to protect them...But, I want to help other women.

No one should blame themselves for their rape. It is not their fault! Yes, I may have liked Scott, but once things turned strange and I said NO, then it became rape. My one wish to achieve closure would be to confront Scott face-to-face. I know most survivors don't get the chance to send a letter like I did, but I still want more.


APA Reference
Tracy, N. (2021, December 17). Rape Survivor Knows It Isn’t Her Fault, HealthyPlace. Retrieved on 2024, July 25 from

Last Updated: January 2, 2022

Medically reviewed by Harry Croft, MD

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