Welcome to Pandora's Aquarium, a rape, sexual assault, and sexual abuse survivor message board and chat room.
If you've been a victim of any type of sexual violence, you belong here. What you see below represents just a fraction of the resources and survivor support available. Register now to join our community and take full advantage of what this online support group has to offer you as you heal and recover, or sign in to remove this message.
You are not alone, we can support you as you heal, and you've made an important step toward recovery by reaching out. If you are unable to register or have any questions, please contact the staff or view our home page.
I woke up in a heavy fog. I felt something stuck to my ass. I looked down at my body. No pants. Shirt and bra still on. Shit caked inside my panties. So delirious.
I rolled over slowly. Could I salvage the panties? How much got on my blanket?
I got up slowly and surveyed the evidence. There was a smear of shit next to my dresser. My pants were thrown over my suitcase in the corner.
I waddled to the bathroom. A shit stain next to the toilet, the shape of a footprint. The toilet lid was up. I think the seat was up too, but I can't remember clearly. There might have been piss inside.
I took my panties off and tried to rinse them out, but they were too fucked up to save. I wrapped them in a plastic bag and stuck them in the trash. I sat on the toilet and tried to shit. The thought passed briefly through my head..."It feels like something was shoved up my ass..." But then I pushed it away. I was drinking with a couple, they couldn't have done anything to me.
But what did I do to embarrass myself so badly? I got in the shower and started scrubbing off the shit. I must have passed out drunk and threw up. I must have shit my pants. They probably laughed at me. They probably brought me back to my apartment and took my pants off so I could get into bed. They probably laughed some more when they saw the shit in my panties.
There was a small spot, a shit stain, inside my pants. I know I was wearing my pants when I left their apartment, but I wasn't wearing them long enough to make a bigger stain. They were probably just nice people who brought me home after I had embarrassed myself. There's no way anything was shoved up my ass. So I scrubbed and scrubbed. So much soap. Water as hot as I could stand. How badly did I embarrass myself?
So I got out of the shower and started cleaning my bed. Where was my phone? Where were my cigarettes? I guess I couldn't've called the cops even if I wanted to, even if I knew what had happened. My bottom blanket was covered in patches of shit. It's too big to fit in the washer. I shoved it inside a large Tupperware container, just trying to contain the filth. I guess I had rolled on my top blanket or something, because there were a few small stains on it. I balled it up and carried it to the laundry room. My door wasn't locked. I started the wash and went back to my apartment. A few seconds later, I heard the next door apartment open. A knock on my door.
He was standing there giving me a weird look. He was holding my phone and my cigarettes. I laughed and said I was just about to go ask if he had seen them. I apologized for embarrassing myself the night before. I told him I couldn't remember anything, and that I didn't even want to know what I had done. I kept apologizing. I guess we laughed it off or something.
Back inside my apartment alone, with the door closed and locked. With my phone and cigarettes. Alone. I just felt empty and numb. My stomach was fighting me the whole day. I laid in bed watching TV, drinking tons of water, getting up to throw up. I was too sick to clean my floor and the bathroom. My pants and blanket were all I could manage to wash.
How did I feel? It's so hard to remember. I just remember emptiness, confusion, denial and sickness. I denied all possibility of rape. That was all I could hold on to. I realize now that if I had known what happened, I would have killed myself then. I was alone. I had moved to the city alone, and I knew that any of the friends I had before didn't care about me anymore. Everyone had moved on. My ex was in Georgia, and I didn't want to talk to him anyways..right?
There was So. Much. Shame.
What had I done? I didn't want to know. I didn't want to know how vulnerable they had seen me. I didn't want to know if I shit and threw up all over their apartment. I didn't want to know how foolish I had acted.
What could I have done? Could I have looked at the evidence in front of me and put blame where blame was due? Could I have faced them if I had known? Did I even have the courage to call the cops, or my mom?
I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. That one girl at the bar had told me, "if you can't remember last night, there's a reason you don't want to remember". What does that even mean? That was the best advice I had.
2 Comments On This Entry
on Dec 09 2012 05:49 PM
Just a cry for help.
on Dec 08 2012 11:09 PM
on Nov 01 2012 01:51 AM
My fiance said he wants to take me shopping for pretty new clothes...
on Oct 25 2012 09:54 PM
Gifted and Talented
on Oct 17 2012 04:13 PM