My Story-Part 3

No God and No Attention

So there I was: 15 years old, no longer a virgin, no longer getting the attention I was seeking, and being told I should be pregnant.

So, of course I ran away from God, I mean, where else would a person go? 

To that guy who wants you to stay a virgin, yet doesn’t stop you from being raped? 

No way! I’m not stupid, I’m a smart 15 year old. 

I started withdrawing as much as I could from life without my parents figuring out something was up. I retreated to my bedroom to be alone. I stayed busy with school and activities. I still went to church, because that was the rule. I still taught Sunday school, I still went to confirmation class. These are things I HAD to do, or I would be in trouble with my mom and dad—and I didn’t need that. 

Six months later, my brother and I were walking to my car so I could take him to hockey, when I saw Chris’s car driving down our street. 

RED FLAGS WENT OFF ALL OVER!!!! 

For starters, Chris lived an hour and half away from my parent’s house. Secondly, my house was on a back, private road, there was no reason for Chris to be on that road because he didn’t know anyone else who lived there.

I told myself to stay calm. That it would be okay. My brother was there and Chris wouldn’t approach if I wasn’t alone. Only…I was going to be alone, after I dropped my brother off at hockey. I don’t remember what happened the drive to hockey or home from hockey. I just remember running inside as quick as I could.

 I HAD TO TELL THEM. 

They needed to know. 

If he was going to start showing up I needed protection. 

My mom was really upset with me and I remember that being the only time I had ever seen my dad cry. 

We went to the doctor the next day to check everything out and then I had to go see a psychologist. I found out the state had to press charges against Chris for statutory rape, because the age range between us was too large by only two months.  I would have to tell my story to someone else. Luckily, I was able to do it in a private room, with one person and a video camera. But now all my lies were coming back to haunt me. When I answered the question “How did you really meet Chris?” I saw the look of disappointment on my parent’s faces, and the look of my dad crying. I will never forget it. I hadn’t seen him cry before then, and the only time since I’ve seen him cry was on my wedding day. 

I survived that year. A few friends knew what I was dealing with, but most people didn’t. I never talked about it with anyone other than my parents, the police and my doctors. I never even talked about it with my brother. He knew, because I told my parents they could tell him, but I didn’t want to talk about it. This, however, was the first time I knew my brother truly loved me. My mom told me my brother did not handle it well—he said, “If I ever see Chris again, I will hurt him.” Those were his exact words, but what he said was way more graphic none loving words, but words that felt like a giant hug in my heart from my little pesky brother.