And It Was Wrong

It Was My Fault.

That's what I keep telling myself. It's what I still believe. I trusted him, fell for him, lied to my own head and heart about him... I was only 16, and he was a year older than me, that idea flattered and thrilled me to have an older, semi-popular boy interested in me. If I could, I'd go back and smack the young, foolish me upside the head and tell her to run from him as fast as she could... Of course, it all started innocently as these things usually go, and ended just as quickly. Those three months were the longest I had ever been through. I just saw him occasionally around my new school, he didn't stand out as strikingly handsome or spark an interest in me immediately. I just remember him always being there around the corner staring at me intensely. He knew that he wanted me, and he would do anything to get me. He found me on a social media site (we all know what one I mean)and I foolishly accepted his friend request. I was somewhat dating another guy at the time for about a week (but that guy was rude) and he easily convinced me to dump that guy and go out with him. Now I wasn't sleeping around, I was a virgin still but I did like to date around and have fun. But "messing around" wasn't my favorite thing to do. I just wanted love.

He was very self absorbed for someone who wasn't that attractive. Maybe he faked his confidence, and I just remember him always fixing his hair, making sure his clothes were always clean and god forbid if he ever, ever found mud on his shoes or he'd run to the bathroom and clean them. The signs were subtle at first: some name calling, shoving, yanking my arm around. Bossing me around and criticizing me when I folded his shirts wrong. His dad even got mad at him for yelling at me the way he did, but only once. His dad made me very uncomfortable and flirted with me which repulsed me (not that I defend my ex, but his dad was abusive to him, at least verbally from what I saw). His dad never tried anything on me, just my ex hurt me. I always went to his house after school to escape my own home, because at least there it was clean, warm, and there was lots of good food. But he was wildly inappropriate to me, pulling down my shirt to see what bra I was wearing. When I told him to stop he confidently replied "why not, I get to see later" and he did. He grew comfortable with sticking his hands down my pants, pushing me around, making me feel guilty if I didn't do something right. I wanted to wait to have sex until marriage, I always wanted that because I was a hopeless romantic. So instead of sex he convinced himself it felt good for me if he stuck as many fingers as he could inside me until I bled or was so sore I couldn't walk right or even cried out a little. He was too rough.

I broke up with him more times than I could ever count, and he never broke up with me. After a month I tried to end things for good but he always manipulated me and scared me into getting back together with him by saying he would harm or kill himself.

During the first month we broke up for less than a week and I went to his house and down into his bedroom in the basement. I tried to play with his phone and he freaked out and twisted my arm roughly to get it back (I know now he had dirty texts and pictures from his ex on the phone) and that night he took my virginity. I was extremely pressured and I don't like talking about it, but it hurt, was quick, he didn't use protection, and he left me down there, in that dark basement for a long time while he was upstairs to get a condom to finish. I was hysterical when he got back so he took me upstairs, made me stop crying and begged me not to tell his parents when they got back and made me drink alcohol. Then he texted his friends and went on his computer to tell them, I am pretty sure.

It was just sex and I hated it, to this day I have issues with sex. I hated his face when he got it in, it was pure triumph and victory that he got me. After that day he forced me to perform oral on him and shoved me down on him and told me not to tell anyone because he'd rather hang himself than go to jail. I don't remember much of those three months, I think he hit me, my sister saw bruises on me that I wouldn't talk about. I didn't eat at all, I stayed in my room all day or went to his house. I drank a lot, smoked weed, and picked up smoking cigarettes from him...

He tried to get me drunk, to smoke weed with him, anything to get me to do sex. I skipped school a lot, so much that I am surprised I wasn't charged with truancy. He got me on birth control, even though I wasn't really sure I wanted to he just "convinced" me to. He was like a little kid back from the candy store when we left planned parent hood that day with a year supply of birth control and condoms. I was pregnant very briefly and had a miscarriage because my body was so overstressed, malnourished, and I had just started birth control which complicated the fertilization of the fetus. He was thrilled about the loss of the baby but I had a mental breakdown in the middle of the street that scared him (he didn't want anyone in public to find out what he was doing to me) and he made me go to his house where he cooked for me to cheer me up, German puff pancakes that were my favorite. This was one of the few "good" periods in our relationship. I remember on Christmas he bought me a lot of gifts to make up for dropping me on my head and giving me a concussion, a teddy bear, shirts, candy... he was disappointed with the shirt I got him.

I don't know what got me to dump him for good, either the constant fighting and bad times out-ruling the rare good times, or when he suggested we get married and that thought terrified me. Maybe it was my friendship with my now boyfriend that gave me the courage. But I did it, and after I stuck to my decision, he came over and cried and tried to get me back, suggesting we kill ourselves together, but I'm stubborn and I kept my word of dumping him. He told people we had sex and it damn near broke me and permanently damaged my soul... its a sacred thing no one should ever know about. He stalked me afterwards, and even shoved his way into my home and refused to leave. Eventually I started dating the guy I'm with now for protection and so he'd leave me alone but he still followed me home and even forced my head to kiss him and said "because I can".

I told the counselor at school who took me seriously because him and his friends were planning to beat up my boyfriend (his friends were awful and tried to run me over in their car). The school police officer never filed my report, I doubt he took me seriously. The man in charge of student affairs told me "high school relationships don't last forever so deal with it", which made me think that I was wrong for telling and crazy. That man was wrong, and later got yelled at by the vice principal. I went to court and went to two court hearings but dropped it the second time because I had no money for a lawyer, was emotionally unstable, and couldn't face him. I wasn't strong enough. His dad snickered at everything I said in court and posted rude things about me online. There was so much gossip and hate towards me at school, I was harassed by strangers and gossiped about. I even had rocks thrown at me. But then I found out I wasn't alone and there were multiple girls he hurt, but none went to court with me and only one wrote a letter that never got to the court judge. What he did was damage me permanently, and it still causes me triggers and night terrors.

But I will get better and become stronger and be an advocate for teen girls. I'll never forgive him. What I try to accept every day is that it's okay for me to miss him, because I did briefly love him and our relationship was like how I'm addicted to cigarettes. I know it's bad for me and in the long run it will cause me permanent damage and harm, but I miss the head rush and dizziness even though it made me physically ill. He abused me physically, verbally, emotionally, and sexually.

And it was wrong.
Very, very, wrong.

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