The Devil is in the details

I ran across my rapist on the internet. It caught me completely off guard. I almost threw up. Jesus, it's been almost 30 years and I still want to wretch. That night started off so innocently. He was my girlfriend's boyfriend. He dated several of my girlfriends and I trusted him. I was a tomboy. I liked boys but in an immature, giggle and blush sort of way. My body was much more sexually mature than my mind. Flirting to me was frogging a guy in the arm.

I'd finished playing basketball that night. I can't tell you if we won or lost. I just know that he asked for me to wait outside for a family member to pick him up. We sat on the high loading dock facing the lighted parking lot for what seemed an eternity. I was cold. We'd been there for what seemed like forever. I wanted to go inside. He needed to just call the family member but I didn't want to be outside with him anymore. "Isn't that your dad's truck?" "Yeah." "Can't we sit in it, I promise they'll be here soon." "Just for a few minutes, this doesn't feel right."

The next thing I remember is being pinned to the seat. He was on top of me holding both of my arms with one hand, the other pulling my pants down. I froze. I cried and softly said, "Please no. I don't want to, please stop." He told me to shut up that I'd like it. He pried my legs apart with his and did his thing. I went somewhere else in my head. When he was done he told me I wasn't bad for a virgin. I was in shock.

Then I saw dad coming across the lot. I was safe....or so I thought. The nightmare had only just begun. "What have you done?" he screamed. I'd never seen him so mad. I was terrified, unable to speak, who was this man? Where was my best friend? The one I told everything including how it grossed me out to think about kissing a boy. He grabbed me by my arms and began to shake me, yelling...the only thing I remember him saying was that I'd behaved like a whore and he spat on me. At that moment, I knew my life would never be the same again.

Whore? I'll show you whore. Fuck you you self righteous asshole. You think I did this willingly? I'm 13 years old! You were supposed to kick his ass! You were supposed to save me and you call ME a whore? I'll show you. I will so show you.

I shut down emotionally that night. I began using shortly after that. It started with booze and some pain pills. I never told a soul. I let the pussy who raped me run his mouth about how I'd loved him popping my cherry. I didn't care, I wanted to die. I took an entire bottle of pain pills with codeine not too long after that. I was taken to the hospital for severe stomach pain. The brilliant doctor diagnosed me with gas and sent me home. I prayed all the way home to please let me die. I woke up the next day much to my dismay.

The article. My rapist now runs a prominent Boys and Girls Club in a major metropolitan area. The article said that he was a success story. One of abuse and rising above it all to make life better for others. They refer to his broken grammar and boyish charm. Oh fucking puhleeze! HE RAPED ME and you're putting him with CHILDREN?! He has children and a wife. He's happy and changing lives and I'm still scarred by what he did to me. I'm such a coward. I should call someone and tell them. Why would anyone believe me though? It's just my word against his and I'm a basket case who still uses drugs. He's the director and obviously well regarded. How does this shit happen?