After a rather traumatic freshman year, I was determined to cultivate my talents and focus on enhancing my academic abilities throughout my sophomore year of high school. I built several new friendships during the school year and maintained good connections with peers who had supported me during the fiasco with Damien. However, my relationship with God faltered due to my insecurities that stemmed from my experience with sexual assault. These insecurities consumed me and ravaged my brain, a perpetual flurry of questions that I could never answer: Was I worth more than my body? Could I be loved more than just in a physical sense? Most pressing of all was the question of whether I could trust the people around me anymore. How could I possibly know someone’s intentions with me? Nevertheless, I tried to give everybody the benefit of the doubt. After all, the backlash that followed my experience with Damien taught me how destructive it is to be critical of others.

Going into second semester of my sophomore year, I was sure that I would end the school year on a pleasant note. In the spring of sophomore year, a good friend of mine introduced me to a boy that she had liked at one time– I’m going to call him Martin in order to preserve his anonymity. Martin was quite charming and handsome; consequently, he had a long history of past girlfriends and flings. Despite these rumors, I was kind to him and hoped that we could become friends. After he made some sexual advances on me, though, I ended my communications with him, both online and in person.

The next time we ran into each other was after school on April 12th. I was walking to the tennis courts to meet my best friends, as I had just used the restroom. He stopped me and we talked; soon enough, though, he began to kiss me roughly and pulled my pants down. I was pressed against a shipping crate, with my back towards him, and he raped me. After saying “no” several times, he put his hand over my mouth and assured me that he was almost done. Martin then argued with me and threatened that if I told the authorities, he would know and he would be upset, as it would ruin his senior year of high school.

Both the school and the police did an investigation into the matter. However, my mother and I were upset with the lack of serious consequences for him, as we knew that it was not justice for the pain that he had caused me. Despite this, I firmly believe that even this made me much stronger as a person and contributed to my growth. 

The aftermath and recovery following rape is a harrowing journey. I experienced panic attacks often; I couldn’t even watch television programs that included themes of sexual assault, as it would cause me to break out in hysterics. Martin haunted my thoughts and I had nightmares about him so frequently that I began taking medication to prevent such nightmares from popping up. The pain was further compounded by the taunts and threats that I received from my peers at school. As a result, I often lashed out at people who had no intention to harm me. If it weren’t for the comfort of my church leaders and parents, I doubt that I would have made it through those first six months after being raped. Of course, I must also thank the Lord for the peace that he brought me during those times. Now that it has been a little bit over a year since I was raped, I have learned that there are so many women around me that I can help heal and comfort by sharing my story with them. Because of the trauma I endured, I have been molded into a stronger person and a woman of courage; I hope that with these experiences, I can leave behind a legacy of kindness and comfort with other survivors of sexual assault and abuse. These things should not be something we are ashamed of or that we stay silent about– it is imperative that we speak up and come together to bring this violence and depravity to an end.