(Nietzsche, Götzen-Dämmerung, oder, Wie man mit dem Hammer philosophiert)
Content Warning: I'm NOT going to sit down and shut up, it was violent, and crude, so the description is too.
I am 16, and had just about finished sophomore year. Now I am probably finished with high school forever.
I had the literal crap beat out of me. The police took pictures at the hospital, I had bruises on the back of my head, neck, shoulder, and spine. I had bruises on the insides of my thighs, a black eye, bruises on my cheekbone, and two cracked teeth that eventually had to be pulled.
But I fought, I fought hard, and I did not give up. I tried to hurt him as much as I could to make him stop.
He groped my breasts and ass and shoved a finger inside of me. He ripped my dress, panties, and bra.
The hospital took pictures of the damage his fingernails did to my labia as he grabbed my sex. But not the damage the nurse recorded. Damage to my introitus where he raped me by digital penetration ON SCHOOL DISTRICT PROPERTY. In the interior hallway of the main office just outside my counselor's office. I was raped BY A SCHOOL DISTRICT EMPLOYEE DURING HIS WORK HOURS. I know his name, my mother had hired him to do some remodeling work during the upcoming summer.
He was 20 years older, eight inches taller, and 50 pounds heavier than me. We wrestled a bit as he groped me. Then he hit me. After his first blow, I started screaming "RAPE" at the top of my lungs. He tried to shut me up and put his left hand in my mouth. I bit him hard and tried to do as much damage as I could as he continued to strike me hard with a closed fist on the back of my head, neck, shoulder, and back.
Two other school district employees heard me scream. They came and separated us. One called the police. As a thank you she was suspended for not following proper protocol and calling the district first. But then they unsuspended her after she made a statement to my attorney. The other school district employee who literally pulled him off me has a sudden case of amnesia. The rapist decided to get an early start to summer vacation.
The district "lost" the security camera footage for the office. (I was actually raped in the hallway outside of the camera's view. But the camera's footage would show the timing and order that everyone went down the hallway and what we looked like afterward.) My rapist was cleaned up and allowed to leave so the police have no physical evidence from him.
UNLESS YOU DID IT DON'T TELL ME YOU ARE SORRY. Others may want sympathy, I'm not judging, but I don't want it.
(I'll get banned if I say what I really want.)
I'm angry and everyone is telling me to calm down.
My mother is a steaming pile of crap. She isn't supporting me. She wasn't there but is telling me that it didn't happen and the bastard that did it wouldn't have done it. He's a nice guy. The police cannot be trusted. The police frame people. They photoshopped the images.
I've been kicked off two sites for describing what happened. I'm underage, so I am not allowed to talk about sex...
Well, the age of consent here is 16... But rape, by definition, is not consensual. So I guess the age of non-consent is 18?
I moved out. I can't live with my mother, like I said she is a steaming pile of crap. She can't really be so stupid as to believe that I used a lot of mascara to paint bruises on my back, the back of my neck, my shoulder,and face. Or that I had two teeth pulled on a whim.
She wanted me to agree to a sweetheart deal they were offering the rapist. He supposedly agreed to plead guilty to assault, to hitting me repeatedly, but not to ripping my clothes grabbing my tits and ass, or shoving a finger up my cunt.
"Take the win, no school would hire him," my mom said.
She bounces back and forth, "it didn't happen," "it wasn't so bad," "this is enough punishment."
"Nope," I said."They won't hire him when he goes on the register either. You know...I mean...if he doesn't get shanked in jail, which is obviously preferable."
"How can you be so callous, so uncaring about other people?" the talking turd said. "It's sociopathic."
"Did you ask him to rape me, offer up me as a down payment for the kitchen, or did he do it to get back at you for something you did that I don't know about," I retorted.
This wasn't out of the blue. When I was raped I was going to an appointment with my counselor. An appointment that my mother made. An appointment the counselor was elsewhere at the time of. The meeting was supposed to be me responding to my mother's allegations that I make things up and exaggerate. Because I made and signed an affidavit in her divorce proceedings.
So, I was raped by someone my mother agreed to pay a lot of money to while going to an appointment that my mother set up, with someone who was not in her office at the time but was somewhere else establishing an alibi, an appointment to talk about something my mother claimed that I was doing to discredit something that I really did. (PS: My attorney has shared these last two paragraphs with the police.)
"Get out," she screamed.
So I did. Because of the divorce I can't go to my dad's. But I will be okay.