Wednesday, February 5, 2014

XVIII

I have never been one to want to admit that the ordeal I went through "got to me" or left deep, ragged scars in my mind. It's been almost two years since I left Washington and was raped and abused by Theo Keyes. I can hardly bring myself to call him a man because he only is one in the loosest sense of the word. Human being would even be too kind. Lately, the horrors he forced me to go through have replayed themselves whenever I lay down to sleep. This past weekend, the thought of dreaming terrified me. I would see his face again and feel what it was like to be violated--over and over in graphic detail. Already emotionally drained from other personal issues, Sunday, February 2nd, was my breaking point.

In a completely unrelated event, I burned myself cooking, and it was the last straw for me. My wonderful boyfriend, Tanner, was over and I ran upstairs to conceal already flowing tears. After a rather long cry session, I tried cleaning myself up in the bathroom and used a makeup remover that had the consistency of lotion. This is where I had possibly the worst flashback to my days in Washington.

During one of my frequent periods of homelessness in Bellingham, Theo had demanded that I had sex with him. Once again, because I was too sore to have actual intercourse, I was forced to give him oral. Before he reached orgasm, he pulled away and began playing with himself above me, ejaculating all over my face and chest. The only thing I remember is feeling something hot and slimy splattering me in my eye. I remember wiping it off and having my eye swell almost to the point of closing. Theo did not apologize or even ask me if it was okay to bathe me in his sperm beforehand.

 While experiencing this in my head, I tried getting the lotion off my eyes as quickly as possible, but the damage was already done. I was almost in hysterics--breathing to the point of hyperventilation and crying loud enough for my dad to come into the bathroom and give me a hug. He reminded me of my son, who just turned 1, and all the other wonderful things I have going on in my life. It provided temporary solace and reminded me that I am truly blessed to have a support system like my family and my boyfriend.

Writing about my experiences seems to both help and hurt at the same time. I maintain a Twitter account (@heatherfisher19) where many times, I have voiced my opinion on rape and the culture that breeds the opinion that rape is a joking matter. Anybody with this train of thought is ignorant and should turn their attention to blogs and stories like this to re-educate themselves. My situation, in comparison to others, is probably much less damaging than others who have been raped or sexually assaulted. I know that through the pain of writing this, I will hopefully reach other people who are struggling to survive with the harsh reality of their situation so we can all bond together for support.

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