“I still remember every touch”

Trigger Warning: rape, self harm


I thought I was smart the way I hid it, I was raped when I was 11 by a 16 year old who was my friends boyfriends older brother. I felt used, alone and bad for what I allowed to happen. I wanted to feel pain, just to feel something, at that age I had never heard about ‘self harm’ all I know is that day when I ran back home and fell over and grazed my knee, it hurt and that felt good, the rest of my body felt numb except for my knee no thoughts in my head except for the pain I felt. I carried on like that, small unnoticeable injuries, I though if I’m not being noticed then I’m doing it right. I kept the injuries small; graces, cuts, trapped fingers, things like that. It wasn’t until a friend fell and hit her head that I noticed how much pain she was in, I wanted that feeling. so I fell and hit my head on things, my whole body felt numb; no thoughts, no feelings at all. I’d found my high. I’d found my escape, I didn’t realise that what I was actually doing was self harm. I was just the ‘clumsy’ girl, ‘oh she’s always falling over, it wasn’t  until I was in year 9 that people started claiming I was doing it for attention that I changed my tactics.

I started hurting my self less, I surrounded my self with people and became outspoken so that people would see my personality over everything else. My smile was my mask, I still hit my head or fell over to feel that numbness, even now several years later I don’t like being in small groups, I’d rather be completely alone or surrounded by people. With these accusations starting to circulate more and more I started looking for other ways to get hurt, I started picking fights with boys and girls much bigger than myself knowing they’d win, never putting up a fight.

When I was 16 a very close friend lost her battle with mental health and took her own life, I hit a low I knocked my self out in the city centre of Sheffield and was put into the back of an ambulance, I couldn’t keep doing this, but every time I went passed his house on the bus or passed on the street I wanted that feeling of nothing, I started to look at ways I could deal with it that didn’t involve pain; music, art and sport started to become my escape.

Yes it’s still difficult when I see him, I still remember every touch, every sound, every feeling, every thought. I still go home and cry but I’m finding this to be better than hitting my head on the stone floor; I’ll write my hurt, anger and thoughts down. Rip it up, burn it, whatever I can to escape from the feelings. The person that raped me now doesn’t know my name, he doesn’t know the fear I feel whenever I see him but he knows that I am strong enough to walk past him and not cower at the sight.



Share this article
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Delicious
  • Reddit
  • StumbleUpon
  • Add to favorites
  • Email
  • RSS

Comments are closed.