****trigger warning****

“A bit about me first. I was adopted as a toddler to a farming family. Childhood was okay, can’t complain about any mistreatment. As a teen, I began rebelling like most teens do. Skipping school, partying, smoking, drugs, hitch hiking, and drinking a lot. It was a really high risk lifestyle. I ended up in foster care at age 11 for 8 months. For an adopted child this was shattering. I lost trust in my parents, I did not believe they loved or wanted me. Placement back at home did not work, so by 13 I was back in foster care, and three changes of address later I found myself living in a small town not too far from where I was raised. I was now 15 years old. One night my foster siblings and I attended a house party. The first part of the evening went well, and our curfew quickly arrived. We went back home and I asked if we could go back to the party. I wish to hell they had said no. As far as foster parents went this couple was different. Very laid back, no scheduled meal times, their teenage children were allowed to drink and party. That’s who I refer to as my foster siblings. In any case, I returned to the party which was now in full swing, and proceeded to get completely drunk. I remember the man showing up with his friend. It struck me as odd because he was at least twice the age of anyone at that party. He had on a pair of blue and white striped overalls that made him look like some kind of deranged train conductor.I had friends there and a distant cousin. I felt safe. I ended up passing out in the basement hallway when the party moved upstairs. At this party, I was probably the youngest person there. There was all kinds of alcahol and a lot of weed. Also mushrooms were done earlier in the night by a few of the older kids, including my foster sister. I had never seen or heard of them before so I didn’t partake. I was happy, dancing, and flirting. I have a lot of shame attatched to the fact that I was flirting. Not with my attacker, he was weird and creepy right from the start, but with one of the guys I had a little crush on. Fast forward to me passed out in the basement hallway. Everyone knew I was down there but they were letting me sleep so moved the party upstairs. I remember a bunch of people walking past me, and than later someone stopped. I remember him just standing over me for a couple of seconds and sighing. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. He took me to an adjacent bedroom and threw me on the bed. Over the shoulder into the bed, whomp. At first I thought he was just being a Good Samaritan, putting me to bed,even if he was a bit rough. Then he climbed in beside me and started pulling at my clothes. I said stop, what are you doing, no! I don’t want this! Help me!!!  No one could hear me because of the music. I remember seeing my terrified expression in the reflection of his glasses. He didn’t say anything, not a word to me. He just pinned me down with his body and kept doing what he was doing. He was so much stronger than me and I felt weak from being so drunk. I fought him as hard as I could but it was like he was swatting a fly. He got my shirt off. He groped and kissed and licked my breasts. I remember grabbing his ears, hair, head and pushing back as hard as I could trying to stop him. He didn’t budge. I screamed as loud as I could. He just helped himself to my body, he did not care that the body’s owner was protesting. I hit him, beat him around his head and back and shoulders. He never struck me. He never said anything to me. He just kept touching and licking and the feeling of his hot slobbery kisses made me feel ill. He was all over my breasts and I remember he pinned my arms down with one of his knees. The door opened. I thought I was saved. It was his friend… He said “What are you doing? Your being stupid. Your gonna go to jail.” I can’t remember if he even responded to his friend. I do remember saying “Tell my cousin where I am, please help me!” After he closed the door I knew he wasn’t going to help me. I still am not sure if he told anyone, but if he did he sure took his sweet time about it. He was trying to get my pants off. I was fighting but I just couldn’t stop the bastard. He had his fingers in me. He ripped my panties off. I don’t know if he penetrated me. I don’t want to know. Most of what I remember after that was a bunch of jumbled images, a strong feeling of shame. I was crying and I stopped fighting so much. It didn’t matter what I did he was going to rape me anyways.

I’m not sure how long I was in that room. Eventually my cousin appeared. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him off of me. I’d be lying if I said the punch in the face he got wasn’t extremely satisfying to me. He was thrown out of the house and they took me upstairs. The first thing I asked for was a drink to calm my nerves. The upstairs and downstairs were connected by the porch that went to the back door. The upstairs had a single door that connected the two. When I walked past that doorway a few minutes later, he was waiting for me. Same thing, tossed over his shoulder and taken downstairs. Loud music, no one can hear me. I fought like a cornered wildcat and this time, I got away. He grabbed my pantleg on my way up stairs, I was scrambling on all fours trying to get away from him. Cousin heard my screams and this time, they threw him out and locked the door behind him. No one called the police, I don’t know if I asked them to or not. I cried and showered for hours. I was afraid to go home. I was afraid to leave that house. I stayed there for two days. Finally the police showed up and I reported what happened. Everyone who was at the party had to give statements. Some people remembered things I didn’t. Like him chasing me through the house and picking me up by my privates. I do not remember. I only hope they were exaggerating. Foster Mom was fairly kind, Foster Father told me it was my fault and wanted to know when I’d be leaving. I called my social worker for help, and was told it was my fault for drinking. The police were really nice to me, if I had called them instead of him maybe I would have stuck around long enough to prosecute. I was in another province in under two months and basically just fell apart. I couldn’t sleep, never felt safe. I suspected every man of being a predator. It was lucky I did not lose my life with the amount of reckless behaviour I engaged in after the incident. Now I am 31 years old, and I am starting to understand that this issue needs to be dealt with. I recently found out that there is no statue of limitations in Canada for sexual assault. I confirmed my file still exsists with the RCMP, and am planning to go there with a family member to see what my next steps are. If he isn’t in jail already I will do my best to put him there. I started counselling in April, and joining the online community, Pandys, has really made me feel like I am not alone, I feel the love and support there and it is precious to me beyond mere words to describe. Thank you so much, Pandys.”