I look at every man the same—I always see them as sexual deviants. I am a victim of rape, and my sisters are victims of rape, by the one man who was supposed to keep us safe. By the one man who was supposed to protect us from all evil.
I never knew my sisters were abused until I was 16, when my mother decided to tell me since I was out of control. My mother assumed that my typical teenage rebellion was my way of acting out due to my father leaving us, when all I was trying to do was forget everything and everyone. My family gathered for an intervention and one by one they told me their stories. They didn't and don't know that I experienced the same thing they did.
At 17, I went to a party. After having too much to drink, I went to lay down on my friend's bed and was followed by a guy. I have always been promiscuous, but that night I didn't want it. That night I said no.
He didn't care though—he held me down and said he "knew just how I liked it." It didn't last long, about three minutes. When he got up he said it was as good as he had imagined and that nobody would believe a whore, so to not have any ideas. I went home and a month later I found out I was pregnant.
At four months pregnant, I started talking to a really nice guy who is now my husband, but all he knows is that the father of my child chose not to be involved in my child's life. My husband has stepped up every step of the way.
I'm super overprotective of my daughter, though. I've always interfered in their relationship and bonding. I get uncomfortable with any male looking at her. I get uncomfortable with her being alone with cousins or uncles.
Nobody knows about my dad and nobody knows about what happened at that party. I can feel how it affects my relationships and I can feel how it affects the bond between my daughter and my husband. I can see how it affects me, as I constantly fall into depression.
They say the truth will set you free, but these truths are something I don't like to admit to myself—much less to anyone else.