Trigger warning, for strong language and some graphics. Please, take gentle care of you if you choose to read.
Fuck you, you fucking asshole. You are a sick, twisted bastard. I hate you. I wish you were dead.
You should be sitting in a prison right now, instead of enjoying your retirement from the Navy.
You should know exactly what you did to me.
But neither of those things will ever happen.
It doesn't matter how much I scream at you, how many times I tell you how I feel or what I've been through. Because you will never get it. Your diseased mind will never know what I've been through. And I know that you will never admit that any of what you did to me was wrong.
You are a criminal.
You are a stalker. You are a rapist. You are a fiend. You are a monster. And I have had to live with all of what you are in my mind and body and soul for the past 24 years.
To hell with you. I am going to scream at you. Not out of any false hope that you will listen or understand. But because I need to scream at you.
How dare you call me a slut. The only reason I ever met you in 1986 was because I was in trouble with my drinking. All you saw, in your judgmental twisted disgusting male mind was a woman who had to much to drink and “looked like a slut”. I feel horribly bad for every other woman who has ever had to come in contact with you. Because I am sure there are others you have put down and treated like the slut you think they were.
What you didn't see was a woman who had previously been assaulted, who was going through some traumatic memories of that previous assault. Of course, in your demented sick mind, you probably would have found some way to believe that I deserved that back then.
After all, in your mind, I deserved rape, didn't I?
I bet you thought that I had forgotten you, didn't you? When you showed up at my duty station. But you sure as shit didn't forget me, did you? You could never forget the woman who was in your mind a slut, who would always be a slut. Did you count yourself as lucky when you showed up at my duty station? Lucky, because you were so confident that you would have the chance to rape me?
I bet you did.
I sure as shit didn't forget you. My pride in serving my country had already taken a blow when I relapsed and began drinking again. But you knocked more of what was left of my pride right out of me that day in your office. You, sitting there behind the desk. Two of your chief petty officer buddies on either side of you. All chuckling at the slut standing before you.
Did that feel good? To knock me down a little futher? And did you feel good when you showed up at my duty station, because you knew that the opportunity was right in front of you to give me what I deserved?
You had all the power and control and opportunity that you needed, and you knew it. And you were in the perfect place to let that all play out. From that first day that I walked onto the watch floor and you saw me. And you got that smile on your face. You KNEW that you could definitely give this slut what she deserved. To put her in her place. You were going to show her. And my duty station, so remote, so small, so unmanned in the middle of the night. Well, that was just the absolute best place for what you had planned.
Do you know anything of fear? Do you know anything of self hatred? Do you know anything of feeling so dirty and disgusting that you want to die?
Do you know anything of being forced down into the dirt of this earth? Do you know anything of having your body, the most innermost personal private part of your body, violated by an animal?
Do you know that you are an animal?
Do you know what you took from me those two nights? Do you realize that it was so much more than just having sex with a slut, a woman who in your twisted mind was someone who was dirty and disgusting and probably slept around. Someone who you saw as enjoying what you did. Someone who deserved what you did.
Do you know that it was so much more than just forcing me to take from you what I deserved?
Do you know what your staring at me did? Every single day I came to work and you were there, or that you came to work and I was there. Do you know how it feels to want to crawl out of your skin? Do you know how it feels to be stalked? Because that's what you did to me. Your stare ate through me. Your hateful, piercing stare. Your stare that screamed, slut, to me, in the worse, most demeaning offensive way.
You threatened me. That night behind the quarterdeck building. Do you remember the way you threatened me? You were very effective in shutting me up. And to this day, there is a huge part of me that wishes I had turned you in. There is a huge part of me that wishes you were behind bars, like an animal in a zoo cage. Because then YOU would know how it feels to be stared at.
But do you remember the way you threatened me? My career. My marriage. My life. You held the threat of “getting me again” over my head. And I know you could have. But if I talked, if I said anything, you would ruin my career and my marriage. And I believe you would have gotten me again, and killed me. In my heart I believe that, because you are a dangerous sick animal.
And I don't believe you would have thought twice or blinked before you killed me.
So I stayed quiet. And still, you ruined my career. No one ruined yours, did they?
You know, my grandfather was a WWII Navy veteran. An honorable man. Such pride in his service. So proud of me when I enlisted. And with all I ever heard from him about his time in service, I looked forward with much excitement to making the Navy a career.
But you wouldn't let that happen, would you? No, you raped me, and I lost my career. Doesn't seem fair, does it? But do you think I could remain in the Navy, or even think of reenlisting, after what you did to me?
You also ruined my marriage. Not right away. No. For years, I kept everything you did to me buried so deeply, that when it all came out, the delays of dealing with it put a massive wedge between myself and my husband. That wedge led to unfixable problems, because my husband could not deal with what I had become after I started having memories, flashbacks, nightmares, and severe depression and anxiety.
I bet your marriage was never ruined. Too bad, because I bet your wife doesn't know that she sleeps next to a monster, a savage, a criminal, a deviant. She doesn't know that every time you have been intimate with her, the potential you have locked deep inside of you to be brutal. Does she?
To this day, I have nightmares of you. Mostly around the time of the year that you raped me. Do you have nightmares of me?
Do you hear my cries in the middle of the night. Do they invade your dreams. I hear your words. They invade my dreams and my waking hours.
Do you see the terror in my eyes? I see your hate filled eyes. All the time.
Do you have the depression, or the anxiety, that I struggle with? Do you see police officers or sheriffs, and avoid them because they fill you with fear? Do you hate yourself? Do you look at your medals and feel shame at your time in the Navy? Do you hurt yourself, or want to die?
Do you? Any of it?
And below all of that, and on top of all of that, is the anger I feel every single day. Do you feel anger like I do?
I think you do feel anger. But yours is different. I really do believe that you hate women. Your hatred radiated out from you, and you brought the full brunt of it down on me.
You know, before I met you, I had very little hatred in my heart, very little anger. Today, I have so much. The way I feel about men goes beyond distrust or fear. It turns to anger toward men. And most times, my anger seethes.
Does that make you proud? That you took a young woman fresh into the Navy, and filled her with so much horror. That you took someone who was excited, and proud of being in the Navy, and used your rank and power and control over her, and cut her so far down, filled her with so much fear, raped her and then threatened her? And then kept up your insane stalking of her, to keep her in her place?
Only one more thing I need to say to you. I'd love to tie you down. Beat you to a pulp. Run your head over with my car. Drive spikes under your nails. Shoot arrows into your eyeballs. Castrate you and feed your balls to you. Tie your dick so tight with twine that you watch it die and fall off of you. Throw you into a pit and let you stave to death. Lock you in a room with starving rabid wolves.
I hate you.