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About Clareo

  • Birthday 12/03/1991

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    perth, australia
  1. my story

    NOTE:i didnt know how to post this in with the other stories.. can someone tell me please? I don’t know where to start with this. But I know if im going to help myself and maybe others I have to say something. Only 3 people know and even they don’t know everything. I'm afraid of so much; afraid of being ridiculed, afraid of people not believing me, afraid of him coming back, afraid of this never going away. That's all I want-this to go away. He was a friend of a friend. His name was demetre but I always called him d. I met him online. We talked for a few months on the net and on the phone. He use to call me all the time. He told me he loved me and how he wanted to spend every second with me. I believed him and soon I feel in love with him to. The first time we met his dad dropped him off at my house. I had gotten up really early to prepare for him, make sure the house was clean and I looked good. I remember thinking that because he was older I had to act older. I was 12 at the time. He told me he was 16, which I later found out was a lie, He was much older. The first day we didn’t do anything more then kiss. He kept asking for head and I kept saying not yet because I was scared and didn’t know how. I saw him every Saturday and every Wednesday after school. For the first few weeks everything was ok. I gave in from his nagging and gave him head. Let him do things to me as well.. finger and lick out. But I always said no to sex. On October 4 2003 my parents went out and it was just me and him. We were on my bed. Just talking and kissing as usual. When he brought up sex again. I said no and that I wasn’t ready. He said I was. And he was sick of waiting. He got on top of me. And pulled off my pj pants and my underwear. He ripped my bra off and started thrusting. It hurt so much, and bled a little. After awhile I kinda just went numb. I kept telling him to stop and get off me. I tried pushing but he was soo much bigger and stronger then me. When he finished he got off. Told me I needed the morning after pill and went to the bathroom. I just layed there. Huddled up in the foetal position. It didn’t really kick in that I was raped in my own house, in my own bed, by the man I ‘loved’ for a few more days. I didn’t leave me room at first. I faked a sickky so I didn’t have to go to school. I thought it was going to be a one off time. But it wasn’t. I threw out the bra and underwear I was wearing. I washed my pj bottoms. Tried to get rid of the evidence. If I couldn't see any proof, it wasn't real. I wore clothes that covered up the bruises, and didn't tell anyone.I was so heart broken. I was so hurt inside, a piece of me was taken away and Ill never got it back. I wanted to save my virginity until marriage. I didn’t like the idea of being a whore. For awhile after I started avoiding men. But after I while I changed my ways of thinking. It didn’t matter who I slept with because I was already ruined forever. So I slept with a lot of people that didn't matter to me. It didn't matter to me that I got no enjoyment out of it, it was just a way to make others want me. I started taking drugs. First it was just weed and alcohol. Then ecstasy, LSD and speed. I tried a few more different kind of pills and powders but im still not to sure what they were. The second time it happened we went for a walk along the beach. Then into the bush land just down a bit from my house. We walked for ages. He was in front and I was behind. Finally we stopped. On a little slope with trees at the top and sand on the floor. White sand. He layed down a towel and told me to undress and sit on it. I remember I had my little denim skirt on and my brown monkey top with googly eyes. He raped me for ages that day. Over and over. It was the first time he hit me. He backhanded me when I asked him to stop. I shut up and just let him do it after that. I was so shocked. When he was done we walked back to my place. It hurt so much to walk and he got mad. I told him I was going to tell the police if he ever hurt me again. He punched a bin and knocked it over. Everyone in the park looked at us. I was so ashamed. What had I gotten myself into? I was quite for the rest of the day He got his licence. When he treated me well still we always use to dream of driving out to manjadel and watching the stars together. Now its just hell. He picked me up today. With that simeone guy, he lived across the street to D. We drove to manjadel, being summer it was deserted. We got there and they told me to get in the back of the car. I was to have sex with demetre and give simeone head. Then swap and do it opposite. They said if I didn’t they would drive away and leave me there. I new how to get back and I knew where I was but it was a very long walk, about an hour drive. And I was to scared. I did it. I hate the taste of them. Pushing my head and making me gag. Fucking me so hard I could hardly breathe. I hated it. I hate it. My whole body went numb when I felt his cum down my throat. I wanted to vomit. I couldn’t breathe properly. I was gagging. I couldn’t move. Every time they touched me I felt shameful and guilty. I was angry and scared. Why me? How could it happen? He was so perfect at first. Early today. Earlier then normal. But everyone was up as usual. He came in, woke me and crawled in bed. I hate him. But I love the way he holds me. About an hour later im fully awake. Only because I feel that disgusting wet, warm feel of his tongue. That feeling makes me stop moving. Everything goes dead around me. I tried not to feel it. I don’t understand. He use to love me. Now I have a special kinda feeling for him. Kinda between horror and loss of love.. kinda. Its hard to explain. Same words as always. “You know you want it” but I don’t, I really really don’t. I want to tell someone but I don’t know how or who. He has my virginity and my blood. Lately he’s taken my pride and will to live. I hate it. I hate how he calmly gets dressed after every time. I hate how he leaves me curled up. Always the same thing when he comes back too. “you provoked me, don’t tell anyone because they wont believe u anyway. Even if they did they’d think u were a slut.” I always use to think it could never happen to me. But it did and now I don’t know what to do. Noone will understand unless its happened to them. They cant comprehend what isn’t like to be humiliated and brutalized by someone who is suppose to love you. I wish with all my heart this never happened, that it isn’t true. But it is and its something I have to deal with for the rest of my life. Every time I felt so confused and trapped and dirty. No matter how many times I washed I always felt dirty. I always smelt the smell of his face stuff. It was rank. Made me wanna vomit. It’s a funny thing. Its only sex but it finds a way to get deep inside. A way to stop me from thinking and trusting and loving. I don’t understand how a few unwanted sexual encounters changed my life and my thoughts and views. I don’t get how it can cause so many problems. But at the same time I understand completely. I understand how sad it is to feel so violated at such a young age, I understand how easy it is to block out things that happen until u sleep. I understand the feeling of being dirty and used. I’ve read so many stories about rape and watched so many shows on torture, its amazing but disgusting how many are similar to mine. If I didn’t go to his house when he told me to I would get it worse the next time. After a while I got use to it and just blocked it all out. I remember one time, the day after our 5 months. Demetre said he had a surprise for me. I thought he was changing back and was starting to love me again. But no. I got to his house at 10, the usual time. Went inside and up the stairs. Horrible yucky stairs, they had a damp smell and his two feral dogs were always laying across the middle landing. Went Into his study where we always were. There wasn’t just him, but 3 others. Simeone and 2 I didn’t recognise. D got up and greeted me. Kissed me softly then hold me to sit down. He tied my wrists to the arms of the swingy chair with fabric. Grey-ish and soft. Told me to sit back and enjoy. He kissed me gently and made me give him head. Then another guy took a turn. After that they took me to the couch and told me to lay down. After simeone raped me I turned my head and saw the guy with blonde hair, he was little and reminded me of a rat. He was unzipping his pants and pulling his penis out. He walked over to the bed, put a pair of black socks in my mouth and flipped me. Anal rapping was the worst, most painful thing. He went forever, felt like I was being ripped in half. He told me it was my fault. That I was flirting and teasing him with my eyes and the size of my boobs. I lay still through the hole thing. After he finished D flipped me over again and punched me in the tummy. Told me that if I layed still like I did with the other man, that he’d beat me so bad I wouldn’t be able to move. He took out the socks and kissed me. Softly. Forced my jaw open with his hand while the other played with my boob. Squeezing my nipple so hard I wanted to cry. When I started crying harder he asked me if I wanted to swallow a bullet, said if I didn’t shut up he’d make sure I did. I felt like a striper, a fuckking prostitute. He had me so scared to tell anyone and had my self-esteem down so low that I didn't really care to live anymore. I started cutting. At first it was just a few little scratches across my left wrist. I thought that as my blood drowned away so would my pain and memories. Then as time went by and my depression got worse, so did the cuts. By this time I was in year 8. I had started at a new school, St Stephens, and had met my soon-to-be-best friend, Chloe. I didn’t tell her about what happened and was still happening but she guessed something was wrong when it was 40 degrees and I was still wearing a jumper to cover my arms. A few months went by and the rapings continued. Every Saturday and every Wednesday. Soon the cutting wasn’t enough to get rid of the pain. I started vomiting and starving myself. This went unnoticed for awhile until Chloe, who also suffered from bulimia and the same kinda of ‘treatment’ from her boyfriend and his friend, heard me and smelt vomit on my breathe constantly. No matter how many tic tacs I ate and how many times I brushed my teeth, it would still smell. I lost weight, but not enough.. it got worse and worse. Until I found out that I was pregnant, with his child. I couldn't tell my mom and still haven't. I don't think she would understand. I'll tell her eventually. I had an abortion. I thought being raped was painful… abortions are 10 times worse. I bleeded so much for day and days. I swear I had no blood left in me. I didn’t know how to deal with myself and all of this. There was a BABY in me. I had something so valuable taken from me. I can't do anything about it. All this finally stoped in July 04, half way through year 8, When he moved to broome and I was hospitalised for a week on suicide watch and treated for anorexia and bulimia. I was so miserable for ages. Until the summer of 05-06. I met Cam. He was perfect at the time. Treated me good, ‘loved’ me how I was. We started having sex. Our relationship only lasted about 2 months. It ended because I fell pregnant, again. We didn’t understand it because we used protection every time. He broke up with me. I was heartbroken. Cried for ages. I was moving to his school that year, start of year 10 because I had gotten expelled form my other school. I had hit a teacher when they tried helping me about my arms. I didn’t know what to think or to do. I had an abortion, I didn’t want to but I new I had to. Cam and me fort all the time after that. Constantly. In September of that year my whole world came crashing down. Cam had told people about what had happened and Scott was telling everyone else cam hadn’t. I went up to Scott and grabbed him by the tie. He was only small so I was able to lift him off the floor. I went crazy at him. Shouting how we use to be friends and how I was going to kill him with trolley poles if I see him Outa School again. He shat himself and went and told the head’s of house. They were crazy and nosy. I hated them. Over and over they went through shit with me. I nearly got expelled, until they saw my arms. They called my mum, and told her everything. About my arms, cam, the abortion, all the rumours that were going around. I lost most of my friends because everyone thought I was lying. Only really had Danielle ali and Katie left. I got expelled from that school at the end of the year because ‘they didn’t have the facilities for my problems’. In the summer holidays Katie introduced me to her friends brother, Michael. He was 18-ishh and single. We got along well at first. I stayed at his house a lot. He had been through a lot with his family and had quite bad anger management problems. We had sex a lot, he liked it rough but I said no, unless I was to stoned drunk and drugged up to say no. I fell pregnant to him after he wouldn’t let us use condoms much and I had forgotten to take my pill. Third time lucky I thought, I was going to keep it. Until I found out it had stunted growth from my drinking and drug problem. I told Michael when he was drunk. He went crazy and pulled up my dress on the side of a main road. Told me I was a slut and to act like it. I cried and pushed him off me. Our good mate Nathan, at the time, pulled Michael off me and told him to get fuckked. I ran back to Michael’s brother, Andrew’s workshop and told him. He came running. We sorted it out and I was averagely happy. Michael and me were walking behind everyone else. He was crying and I was trying to make him feel better. Fuckk knows why. Them he snapped again and punched me to the floor. Punched my stomach. I cried so much I had the worse pains. When we got home I went to the toilet. There was blood everywhere and I was vomiting. I went to the hospital the next day with Andrew. They told me I had lost my baby. I said it was from me falling down the stairs. They didn’t believe me but I insisted. I got given pills for the pain and bleeding and was sent home. Told to go back in a week to make sure everything was ok. I broke up with Michael the next day. Just as I was walking out the door. I only went back once to that house to get my stuff. There were so many more times when I was hurt but these were the worst, the ones that really took my tole on me. For ages after I couldn’t have sex without thinking of demetre. I still couldn’t until I met my current boyfriend. He’s the only person ive got closest to telling everything to. I love him so much, for how he treats me and for understand and helping me. I’ve stoped drinking as much. Quit smoking and drugs. I don’t cut anymore and im on medication for my depression, all thanks to him. My life’s getting back on track and I owe it all to my boyfriend, I love you.