A Release

Each of us, each one of the 7 billion people on this planet have a story. That’s how life goes.  Some people have more dark in their stories than others, but that doesn’t diminish anyone’s pain.  I’ve been coming to terms with my own pain, and I am attempting to release all the pain I can, so that I can move back to writing for joy.  That being said, all the things I’ve been hearing about “legitimate rape” and such from the mouths of male republicans disgusts me.

We really do live in a rape culture.

The first time I was ever “sexually assaulted” was in California.  I use quotation marks because I’m not sure what else to call it.  I was new in California and there was this guy at work who was older than me, I thought of him as an uncle. He was probably mid 30’s, I was 18, fresh out of high school and in a new place.  To add to your understanding, I have social phobia and stuff, so any friends I make I get pretty excited about.  Well, I thought he was a friend, anyway.  He was a nice enough guy, a hippie/skater bum type (I don’t use that to mean homeless, I mean the typical vagabond type.)

He had kids in san diego and had lived all over. He painted a lot and some of my friends were artists, so I was curious.  God, I can’t even remember his name. It started with an R.. Anyway, he offered one night to show me his artwork. I thought he meant in his car or something. Boy was I wrong.

See, we worked at Wal-Mart together in San Clemente. It was in this huge long stretch of big brand name stores like Lowes and Albertsons.  Well, I wanted to call my aunt and uncle to let them know I’d be a bit late, because I was waiting around on him and he kept puttering.. I didn’t realize then, but he was screwing over the clock to get more money out of the place.  Anyway, finally we left, which took forever, and he meandered very. fucking. slowly.  I was beginning to get a little irritated but he reminded me of an excited little kid, and he had a bag of spray paint so I figured it’d be nearby.  He kept talking himself up too.  He was talking about how he had been a tagger for 20 years (someone who spray paints art on the walls), and he wanted to show me where he tagged. I thought it would be somewhere in the open.  We got to this tunnel down at the end of the strip mall, and he went in.  He handed me a flashlight, and for a moment I stood there. But then I thought, “Why would this guy do anything to hurt me?  He’s nice, harmless. I’ve never seen him hit on anyone younger than 30.  And I’m sure he’s got friends in there..” Or he acted like it.  I still think of myself as an idiot for this.

Don’t worry, I got my own.  Anyway, he painted something, and it took forever, or so it felt in that pitch-black tunnel. I stood there with the flashlight waiting for him to be done, figuring I’d get home around midnight.  Nope.  At this point it was probably about 11 but it felt like we were suspended in time. I followed him a little ways further, and he showed me some of his “artwork”, which to be honest wasn’t bad.  Then he said we should sit down and “conserve the batteries”.  The way he said it, I didn’t think anything of it.  He started asking me about myself a little, and I still thought I was safe and around a friend. I answered him.  The next thing I know, he asks “where are you?”

That confused me.  “Uh, right here?”  Then I felt his hand patting the top of my head and my shoulder and before I could say anything I felt his dick trying to push into my mouth. I FREAKED. OUT.  I slapped it.  I did, I slapped his penis. I still remember what it felt like, how gross it felt to have it pushing against my mouth and what it felt like to slap it.  He had a piercing too.  Ugh, so gross.

The best part? By the best, I mean most weird/disturbing?  He didn’t get why I was upset. “I thought you liked me!”  

THAT WAS HIS NAME! Riley.  He’s gotta be mid 40’s now.  Anyway, I said “Just because I like you, that doesn’t mean I want to put your dick in my mouth!!”  He didn’t get it, and he got pouty.  He was very apologetic after that, and he eventually led me out of the tunnel.  I swear, it couldn’t have been later than 2 or 3 am, but it was 5 am.  My Aunt and Uncle were furious with me for not coming home, and I will be honest, I lied to them because I felt ashamed of the truth and didn’t think they would believe me.

It still disgusts me to this day.

I was raped my second night as a homeless woman in Portland, as well.  Same type of situation.  I was brand new to town- homeless, and terrified.  See, the night before, I had been shown a place to sleep by a guy I didn’t know was an addict. I woke up just after midnight to see a pile of random pill bottles and him injecting himself with something. I was running on very little sleep, because I had just gotten off a bus from NY that I was on for 4 days.  So, I got maybe 3 hours of sleep before meeting this dude.

This guy looked really nice too. He was wearing a polo shirt and seemed pretty together, I should have realized he was sketchy, but oh well.  He asked if I had any friends or knew where to go to get food.  He showed me to the Portland Rescue mission for dinner- It was full of mostly older men and women who had been homeless for a long time. It was really sad.  The food was worse than school cafeteria food, but I ate it because I was hungry.  He took forever, he was really charming, he talked to all the people around him. He couldn’t have been more than 30, he looked young.

He had found out that I slept outside the night before and it surprised him. I’m not sure why, now that I think about it it may be because he figured anyone with a vagina could get a place to stay if they tried.  Who knows, his logic was weird. Anyway, he offered for me to “stay on his couch” in the “place he shared” with “his friend”.  All of that was either bullshit or he changed his mind, but that we’ll get into later.  See, he  asked if I wanted to drink with him.  He didn’t make it seem like we’d be getting drunk, but I had never heard of a 4 loko before. Well, I can’t stand to look at them now. I drank maybe half of one, and by the time I started to feel it, it was too late.  I stopped as soon as I started feeling weird, but we were drinking out of the same one so I know he couldn’t have done anything to it.

The world started getting weird. See, when I drink, I get terrified. Utterly, completely paranoid and terrified. That was the last time I ever gave myself a chance to see if there was any other way I’d get when drunk. I kept thinking there must be something with alcohol, who knows, I just get depressed. I wasn’t sure so that was the last “experiment” I was going to do. Damn, was I a dumbass.

I started to get really dizzy and freaked out- it was only then that I realized just how screwed I was .I was already drunk.  We were sitting behind a fence behind this fancy hotel right next to the freeway. I could have stood up, taken two steps, and gotten hit by a car.  I don’t like being out of control of myself, it scares me.  Well, I was so out of it I started blacking out.  He seemed to realize then how drunk I was, and to give him credit, he did help me get to a Wendy’s.  He got me some food with my money in my backpack, (just change) and I just remember being petrified that they (the people working there) knew I was drunk and were disgusted with me. As I said, social phobia.

I didn’t want to get “in trouble” whatever that means.  So I did what he said- I ate my burger and fries, I made myself. I tried to sober up, but it didn’t work, my tolerance is nil apparently.  The next thing I remember is being sopping wet and miserable, and following him dejectedly through some part of Portland with lots of houses and trees and a few scattered streetlights. I remember looking at the shine and the black of the water on the concrete, and glancing up occasionally to make sure I wasn’t alone. He was usually a good 20 feet ahead of me.  Then, suddenly, we were in front of a house.  It was a nice house, white I think, with a carpenter’s van in the driveway.

I think he might have been 25. I don’t know.

Anyway, he said to hurry, that it was his mom’s house and he wasn’t supposed to be there because of legal stuff but the van was his and it was dry.  I was soaked literally all the way through up to my upper thighs. I trudged up and he asked for my backpack and bag, and I gave it to him. He had lit a gas lamp or a candle or something, and he said kindly that I should take off my soaking clothes and put on a blanket. He handed me the blanket, it smelled musty and old, but he still wasn’t acting like he wanted anything out of me, so I did.  I probably stripped right in front of him, I don’t remember, I blacked out.  The next thing I know I was laying down on the floor, and he was on top of me. I got TERRIFIED.  I had no idea what time it was, what was going on, how long it had been, nothing.  He was on top of me and inside me and pinning me down, he had his hands by my head.  He looked like a demon because there was a street light right behind the window and it threw him in sharp relief.  I started crying, which he didnt understand.

“What’s going on???  Please get off of me, I don’t want to do this, I just want to go to sleep, I got no sleep last night I need to sleep!”

“Just a minute more”, he said, grunting into me.  I felt filthy, disgusting.  I am not sure what happened but I felt gross and slimy where he was having sex with me and this weird memory knowledge came to mind about “too much saliva”, which I *really* don’t want to know about, even to this day, what that meant.

I started crying and kept begging him to finish up, it must have taken another 10 minutes. Then he collapsed next to me. I curled away from him, and used the blanket to wipe some of the excess grossness out of/off of me. I managed to fall asleep, but then I felt his fingers on me, and it started again.  

The next day I found out that I was way out of the city, and I didn’t even remember how I got there. He showed me to the MAX stop (it’s a lightrail system here) and said “He might see me later”.

I thank everything in existence that the only time I ever saw him again was when I was with one of my best friends. I hid behind him.

Thankfully I didn’t get pregnant or an STD from that- I did get a really nasty urinary tract infection though.  :/

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~ by araelysia on November 2, 2012.

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