Notes From His "Sex Toy"

Someone close to me made an astute comment which I remember – although I don’t remember the context because (surprise, surprise) I was drunk. He said something about how he doesn’t know the truth about what happened because all I share with him is half truths and bits and pieces.

This is true.

Even when I wrote out my story of what happened throughout what I know as “the hell period” of my life I was so vague! I believe I used the term somebody did something very bad to me in that version of what happened to me.  I'm not sure how I thought that would help me process everything but it didn't. So I am rewinding and doing it properly the hope is that I won’t have to sort through all of this shit again and I suppose it won't be as sugar coated as the last attempt but at least it will be the whole truth.

When I ran into "him" I was drunk and all at once everything seemed to jump into motion. My stomach felt like somebody had punched me straight in the gut, the world swished and swirled and dipped and dived before my eyes, my legs felt weak, and my eyes started tearing up. I knew that he hadn’t seen me. I ran. I lost my shoes along the way (although I did manage to get them back) and the only reason that I turned around and went back was the promise of shots and the unspoken promise in my soul that my eyes had drunkenly lied and mistaken some long-haired stranger for Kurt.  It's not like he was the only man in the city who had hair that reached down his back.

It only took a second to mess my whole life up.

I didn't want to go out that night, I wasn't drinking too heavily at the time.  I liked to spend time drinking with my friends once in a blue moon but otherwise I kept myself pretty sober.  I just didn't feel the need to drink to excess but it was my roommate / friend's birthday and it seemed like I had to make an appearance.  I drank a lot and danced even more.  I was happy, excited, young, naive, and hopeful.

Only my eyes hadn’t lied.  My friends kept me trapped by them so I wouldn’t do something stupid but they got distracted and were looking somewhere else for just a second. They even had physically let me go so I started to walk towards him. I wanted to see if he would recognize me, I wanted to see his reaction; I wanted to see what he would do to me if he realized it was me, and mostly I wanted to know.

He did notice me (as I would have suspected – had I been sober). He stared at me with his jaw lax and his mouth hung open like he was trying to catch flies or his nose was super plugged with snot. He stared at me for at least thirty seconds before he stopped and wrapped me up in his arms like I was a part of him, like I belonged to him. I don’t mean that in a positive way. I mean it in a…. like I was a letter and he was an envelope or like I was… No, I don’t have anything… It was what it was and all metaphors aside I was in his arms and he picked me up out of what appeared to be sheer unbridled joy.

I told him that I had missed him. It wasn’t that I had missed him per-se it was like the conversations we had shared were missed because I had never gone into that sort of detail about my past before and I just buried it all but that’s a different story. I drunkenly connected the positive feeling of not holding everything inside with him and thus I said that I missed him.

He gave my friend (who had drank a two six for twenty six) his number to give to me once I was sober.

When she told me his number was lost I was a little surprised but I wasn’t necessarily upset because the truth is I probably would not have contacted him anyways. I probably would have got rid of the number by myself (I can't make any promises, of course, because that isn’t what happened). Then the fact that he would be angry and it wasn’t even my choice occured to me! It wasn’t even my fault! Well, that started to upset me more and more. I felt panicked like I was vulnerable and I hadn’t done something truly wrong so I went back two weeks later.

He was there. His hair was up in a bun and sticking out under his hat, he was wearing square glasses, really loose jeans synched shut with a belt, that stupid jacket that most men in Canada seem to have… He was completely polite and overly charismatic. He asked how I was and gave me his number and shook my hand. That was the only time that he touched me throughout this interaction. He was very clear about what his intentions were (to text and maybe catch up and to give me back my stuff).

The following morning I sent him a message as I had promised and an hour after that I was in his van.

~~~> It took so long to just feel alright <~~~

We stopped at the Tim Hortons by Southgate for Coffee because he had a gift card and I didn’t have enough money to buy us beer for this awkward exchange and he didn’t either as he had spent all of his money getting wasted after he saw me the night before but I didn’t know that at the time. He opened the doors for me and held them patiently as though he was such a gentleman. Our hands never so much as brushed even when he handed me my coffee.

He told me that he wanted to show me the apartment where we “coulda/woulda/should” lived together for the past two years.

I said, “Okay.”

When we got to his apartment he led me into the living room and then noticed that he forget something important in his van and he left me there and went back outside to get it. I placed my big winter jacket, purse, and shoes on the floor near where I chose to sit down on the couch.

I recognized the couch, or it seemed familiar anyways. It was the one that I had slept on years before when I was staying with Kurt and Colin (one of my other ex-boyfriends, Kurt's roommate who I had dated before Kurt). It smelled different though. It wasn’t necessarily a bad odor or anything like that but it made me uneasy and I couldn’t figure out why. Also the couch had a new slit in it which appeared to have been cut into the fabric of the couch with a knife. I assumed (probably correctly) that he had done that himself when he realized that I was gone for good last time. He had been terribly angry and from what I gathered he had gone on a bit of a rampage on all things that remotely reminded him of me.  I shuddered at the memory of the things that he had said to me during that time, the things he had threatened.

I had just enough time to flip through these thoughts absently and to wonder if I should text Josh (the man I loved but lived in a different city) before Kurt came back. I thought about telling Josh where I was but I dismissed that idea because I decided that I was being silly. I mean, I would be home in an hour or two anyways so I could text him when I got home.

When Kurt re-entered the apartment he unceremoniously tossed his things everywhere and sat cross legged on his leopard print cushion on the floor in front of his television. He let his hair out of the bun but left it in a long pony tail that fell down his back. He meticulously broke apart his tobacco and a little bit of marijuana.

“So, what have you been up to,” he asked.

I quietly and nervously talked about how I had found a job that I loved since I left him and that I had held onto it for quite a decent amount of time and that I was so very happy.

“What is the Out of School Care called,” he asked.

I answered.

“I think I’ve heard of it, is it on the West side or where abouts is it?

How naïve do you have to be to answer that sort of a question? I am not sure but I am assuming that it’s pretty damn naïve. However, that said, I was that naïve and I told him exactly where I worked.

Anyways, we sort of talked but mostly sat in uncomfortable silence for about ten to fifteen minutes before he asked if I wanted to see the tour or what-have-you of his apartment. I said okay. It was awkward. I was uncomfortable but the only time that any sort of alarm bells went off in my mind was when he accidentally brushed my arm. It gave me bad goose bumps… You know, the kind that you sometimes get after you watch a really scary movie if you hear a strange noise. It didn’t make me want to run away or anything dramatic like that it just unnerved me a little.  I wasn't sure why I responded the way that I did emotionally.

The tour was like a normal tour. “Here’s the bathroom, here’s the spare room…” Typical. Some of the things that he said were clearly out right lies but you don’t call Kurt a liar unless you want a black eye and it wasn’t anything so flagrant that it was that big of a deal.  He lied about what his plans for the spare room had been.  I love the literary world and he told me that he was going to make it into a library when we moved in together only he had told me before that it was going to be his workspace, his area to work on stained glass and prep things for his jobs.  That was only one of the little things that was off about what he was saying.

His room is where it started. No, that’s not quite right. The hallway by his room is where it started.

I wonder so many things about what I could have done to make the end of this chapter different. Sometimes I wonder if I should have sent Josh a text message when I first considered it or if that would make any difference. Sometimes I think that maybe Josh would have been better able to understand that I didn't want what happened and that I didn’t go expecting anything like that if I hadn't made it seem like I was hiding the fact I was going from him. Sometimes I think it would have been leverage to get Kurt to stop hurting me. Most of the time I believe that one way or another Kurt would have done exactly what he did and I should stop thinking about it because otherwise I’ll hurt myself worse.

Alright, so Kurt and I were in the hallway outside of his room on the other side of the couch (he positioned the couch to block the way into and out of the hallway, you had to climb over it to get anywhere) and he was talking shit, I don’t remember what shit he was talking, but one way or another the only thing coming out of his mouth was bullshit. I feel so vulgar and offensive using the word shit so frequently but when I think about the things that Kurt said vulgar is the only way to describe it so using profanity seems like it goes with the territory.  Anyway, then he went quiet and just stood there in the hallway (almost in the mouth of his door) staring at me. “I missed you,” he said.

This struck me as an odd thing to say because on the van ride he had mentioned that if I was a man and if I wasn’t so cute he would have knocked my teeth in for what I had done to him.

I responded vaguely, I either said “I miss talking to you” or just “yah.” It was very noncommittal.

The silence and the staring resumed.

And then without pausing he put his hands on my face and pulled my face towards him and bent way down to kiss me. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing before his lips were pressed so hard against mine that I couldn’t breathe.

I hadn’t expected it. Maybe I should have given the way that he was staring at me and the stare was both long and lingering but I didn’t. The way that I looked at it was that you just don’t kiss people that you would have punched in the face but decided not to based on gender. That seems ridiculous to me.  I know that I have never ever consensualy kissed somebody that I didn't like just because they were "cute" or the correct gender to draw my attentions.

He stopped. Maybe it was because I wasn’t kissing him back or maybe he just wasn’t satisfied. He asked if I was sure that this was what I wanted.

What a bullshit question! Like it was a choice!

I don’t remember whether I shook my head or not but I did back away right into the wall. The look in his eyes was as intense as a burning fire or death.

Then he was kissing me again and he turned me around and pushed me into the bedroom. Hard. I stumbled and tripped over some of his pornography (he had a massive porn collection - enough that he could have opened his own porn store and done quite well for himself) and fell backwards onto his bed. I tried to crawl away from him, back farther up the bed because he was at the foot of the bed, but he leapt on-top of me and he is much, much bigger than I am.

He was kissing me again and it felt like his hands were everywhere touching and grabbing and pinching. I could hear whimpering and it took me quite a few moments to register that the sound was coming from me. The second that I did realize that I bit down on my lip rings (I had "spider bites" - two lip rings next to one another - and I loved them so much until Kurt knocked one of them out but that doesn't happen until later) to distract myself from what was going on and stop that horrible sound.

He pulled my clothes off very quickly. Nothing that I was wearing put up nearly enough resistance. My comfy sweat pants betrayed me and they didn’t even help by getting stuck on my feet like they normally would. My shirt lifted over my head with ease. It didn’t get stuck on my arms which were not aiding the situation by any means. It was as though everything was conspiring to make me easier to assault.

He made some remark about how I probably hadn’t been fucked like that in two years.

I had not in fact been fucked like that in two years. He was correct.

I had been made love to though.

He had the three piercings in his icky bits and was hardly going to stop to take them out. Let me tell you that being fucked when you are not aroused and are terrified out of your tree hurts enough (quite literally) but with piercings…. That, that my dear is the true definition of pain.

I went away.

I am going to assume, just for the sake of argument, that you don’t understand what that means. I did promise to be thorough and talking about this is easier than talking about what Kurt was doing to my body so let’s leave Kurt behind for a second and I will explain. When something really, really, truly hurts and is really bad I take my spirit and I run away from my body. Sometimes it’s like I’m looking down on my body from the ceiling and other times I go away much more completely and I don’t see my body at all.

This time I focused everything on the dots and markings on the ceiling. Everything I had went up to them. I did not look down. I wandered into safe places in my mind. I went to Josh with his gentleness and love. I sauntered down to the ocean and felt the water tickle my ankles and the sand between my toes. I disappeared into meadows and the sound of the wind caressing its soft and persistent way through the tree branches.

But from time to time I came back. Only when something really startled me. When he bit my neck hard enough that it bruised I snapped back for a few seconds. When big fat droplets of sweat and drool landed on my face and chest I went back too.

The smell was repulsive.

Anyways, he got bored of fucking me there. I think he sensed that I was escaping from him in my mind so he stood me up against the wall near the door of his room and he tried to fuck me like that but I was in so much blinding pain that I couldn’t stand up. My legs gave out and I fell to the ground so he made me crawl to him. How did he do that? Easy, he told me that I had to and he left no room for questions, enough room for more pain though. I didn’t feel as though I had a choice and even now I’m fairly certain that I didn’t.

Throughout all of this he talked non-stop. He talked about how bad I was, how dirty I was, how he was going to have fun using me however he chose whenever he chose. He called me his sex toy and said that he was going to train me.

He went on and on and on and I guess that some people just like the sound of their own voices. I have no other explanation for it.

He threatened me a lot too. He talked in graphic details about what my “punishments” would be if I ever chose to disobey him. Most of the punishments revolved around him tying me up and hitting me with different things. Open palm would be first, the belt would be second, the belt buckle would be third, the spatula would be fourth, and lastly would be the paddle. I suppose he would have come up with more things to hit me with or to do to me if that wasn’t enough to "train" me.

He said that he would go easy on me because this was my first training session. He still “playfully” hit me quite a few times to get his point across – especially when he sensed me disassociating. I was supposed to feel the whole thing.

Somehow he brought me to the living room. He pushed me into things, bent me over things, and picked me up and straight up thrust me into things the whole way to the living room. He bent me over the couch too and I tried to keep my legs as straight as I could because if I seemed like I was going to fall down for even a second he picked me up and thrust himself deeper into me and that was the worst punishment. I was almost blacking out the whole way through the hallway.

He told me that I was allowed to lie down for a moment if and only if I made sure that my pussy was visible while he smoked. So I lay there. My legs were shaking like tree branches in an earthquake. I think I might have tried to run if I had had use of my legs but I was not coherent at that time. I blacked out. It wasn’t like disassociation I was completely unconscious. I had no concept of time. I just lay there. I tried not to close my legs even slightly because whenever I did he hit me. I was not there but I wasn’t somewhere else either.

Eventually he hit me and said, “I didn’t say you could sleep.”

I wasn't sleeping.  I wasn't anything.

I tried as hard as I could not to black out again but it was no use. He decided that that was enough for the time being anyways and he led me (by the hair) to the bedroom again. He shoved me into the bed again and said that because he was so nice that he would let me sleep for a little while although really because I was so bad and had tried to get away for two years he should still be punishing me and wasn’t I lucky and didn’t I want his cock inside me and was I going to be a good sex toy… He wouldn’t shut up.

I blacked out anyways and when I came to he was half sprawled across me possessively. I wiggled and squirmed as slowly and inconspicuously as I could but I still woke him up.

“Where do you think you’re going? Do I need to tie you up so you don’t try to get away?”

I whimpered something about having to get up to go to the bathroom and when I came back from the bathroom (stumbling) he took me again and then he made me shower with him. I stood there blinking dumbly like a stupid animal. I didn’t feel like a human anymore. He scrubbed my body raw. I didn’t say a single word. I didn’t move a single muscle unless I was told to. He would say things like “lift up your arm” and I did whatever it was he told me to without a moment’s thought or hesitation because hesitation led to the worst punishments. He dried me off and I stood there not moving, not fighting, just standing and I absently thought that maybe he had raped me so bad that my spirit died but I couldn’t hold onto that idea or any thought in general for any quantity of time. The pain was not diminishing.

He tried to hold me but I managed to weakly say, “I have to go home an check on my birds.”

“Now?”

“Soon,” it was a struggle to get the word out. I wondered if he would actually listen to what I said, he seemed satisfied for the time being so I really hoped that he would.

“Okay, it’ll take a while for me to trust you enough to let you spend the night.”

“Okay.”

He tried to hold me some more but I weakly kept on saying that I had to go take care of my birds until eventually he took me home justifying it as a personal thing because he wasn’t ready to allow me to sleep over yet. I was in so much pain I am not sure how I made it into my apartment. I knew that I would never be free because he would never let me go and it would always hurt at least that bad so I tried to kill myself. It was absent, the taking of a lot of antidepressants. I wanted the pain to go away and if that meant that I would find permanent respite from Kurt’s cruelty in death that was okay by me.

I don’t know what I said to Josh but I did say something and he left me after I did and I remember that I didn’t cry. Not then. Not even later. I just chose not to process it. I shut it out. I didn’t think that I was still Josh’s girlfriend but that was what I thought it had to be anyway because Kurt had started calling me his sex toy and I wasn’t worthy of being a girlfriend and besides even if I fought which I did and would in my own way he would get me. That said, I couldn’t deal with any of this, not even the small pieces. I didn’t realize just how true the fact that he would get me was until later.

Two days later I went to the hospital with Jane and they did a rape kit. It felt like a second violation. They were touching me and I didn’t like it and they asked all sorts of questions and I felt like I was being raped all over again. Not for an instance did I feel helped… Well, except when they gave me the pills for if Kurt had given me something like aids or a baby (not sure which would have been worse). I am sure that the pills were helpful enough.

The next day Kurt told me that he would be seeing me and I told him that I couldn’t because I was seeing my mom that evening. He said “That’s bad. I hope you didn’t think this would be easy.” Bad is Kurt code for I am going to hit you and hurt you really good but the whole time I am doing it I am going to blame it on you.

I was so frightened that I got pissed drunk and attempted to text some form of an apology for the fact that my life did not revolve around him and that I had plans. Strangely enough that made him even angrier as I was just a “bad girl”. I knew that I was fucked then.

The next day he picked me up from work. He was upset. He was no more violent then he had been the time before that though (that would have been a neat trick – to take two hours and make them hurt more than an entire day). As I said, he had less time. I went home in a bit of pain and with the promise that the pain would be doubled at least if I didn’t get high heeled shoes, stockings, a plaid skirt and I could choose the shirt but I needed a uniform so that he could control me better. He didn’t even attempt to hide the reason that he wanted me to have a uniform. Without any scruples whatsoever he told me that he wanted me to wear that so I would always know that when I was there I was being trained and I wasn’t allowed to think of anything else except for what I wanted and what did I want? According to him I wanted his cock inside of me. According to him I also wanted to be a good sex toy. According to him I was his plaything. The things he thought and the things I  did were quite different but I wasn’t prepared to argue with him because I knew what the consequences would be. That seems so pathetic, I let him use me because of the threats that he had thrown at me and because of the way that my childhood panned out. I’m not blaming this on my childhood or justifying my actions based on what happened to me I’m just saying that as a child whenever I tried to stand up for myself the abuse got exponentially worse. Even as an adult I carry that fear with me. But I should have done something, it is no excuse.

I saw him again a few days later and I brought high-heeled shoes (black and strappy and very high) with me so that he wouldn’t be angry. I didn’t bring anything else so he had mixed feelings about the whole thing but he really liked making me wear high-heeled shoes. I couldn’t walk properly in them, I stumbled everywhere and he liked knowing I couldn’t run away. He also liked forcing me to stand up in them and laughing at me and hitting me if I fell down. It seemed like one of the other things he took the most pleasure in was pushing me around when I was wearing them because I would fall much easier. He even liked tying the heals of the shoes together and to my wrists so I couldn’t move. Even as I’m writing this I can’t believe how fucked he was. I mean, who does something like that? I wasn’t a toy. I was never a toy. I am Rebecca and that is something special. Last time I checked I’m unique and I’m worth something. I’m worth more than my body. My body is a part of me, certainly, but what kind of a person would treat anyone like that? Anyways, I don’t remember that much of this visit as I spent the majority of the time locked away safely in my mind.

He saw me again after my not so successful attempt at suicide which Josh had averted (in a way that made Kurt really angry). Kurt knew I was suicidal because I told him point blank that I was sick of it and I was going to kill myself. That wasn’t necessarily the smartest thing to say to someone like Kurt except I was quite certain that by the time that he responded I would be dead and it wouldn’t matter and all of sudden all the repercussions were meaningless. He wouldn’t hurt anybody else in my life if he knew that it wouldn’t come back and hurt me. That was the truth of it, the only time he would hurt my family or friends was if he was sure that I would know and I would know that he had done it and it was my fault. If I was dead he wouldn’t get any pleasure in it. It was the perfect out. Josh called the police though all the way from Lethbridge. I was so mad at him when the ambulance came and they took away my glass. I was almost ready to fight to keep holding onto it and I didn’t want to go but I did and when I left the hospital I had to tell Kurt where I was because he had been sending me text messages almost non-stop the whole time that I was in the hospital and that made Kurt so angry. I knew that I was completely and totally fucked again.

When I got in the van I was shivering because I knew that it was going to be really bad and that I couldn’t do anything about it. I mean, I couldn’t even kill myself properly. He talked a lot of shit and I stood up for myself a little bit. When we stopped at his apartment I got out of the van and said I was leaving and I didn’t have anything to say to him. He told me to get into his apartment so he could talk to me.

His eyes said a lot of mean things and promised a lot of mean things if I walked away.

I took a step away but he stepped around me so he was behind me and led me to the door and into his apartment building and then into his apartment. I stood by the door with my shoes in and he left me there and went into the living room and started smoking. I knew that he was waiting and deciding on punishments.

Slowly I walked into the living room and perched on the edge of the couch. I left my shoes on. I was planning on running if it was necessary. I made sure the door was unlocked before I came in too because then it would be easier to run. Fumbling with locks would be a really quick way to get dragged back into that hell room.

I found out that he was high as a kite and had eaten a lot of shrooms before he picked me up and he doesn’t trip nicely. He threatened terrible things to those I loved. No, he didn’t stop there. He threatened terrible things to the whole city if I left him. He said that he was making bombs and had spent all day making Molotov cocktails (I think that’s what he called them). He told me that if I left he would have nothing to live for and he would destroy the city especially my family and if my mother and brothers died than so be it. He promised that he would let me live with the knowledge that it was my fault because I had left him and pushed him to it. He would also kill my beloved kinders and lots of innocent children – collateral damage of course – also my fault.

I tried to calm him down because he was shaking he was so angry. I whispered, “I’m not leaving,” over and over and I swear every time those words passed over my lips I felt like I was drowning. It was like I couldn’t breathe and everything was closing in on me and I wanted to die again but it was so deep, the desire to die was so I would stop drowning.

He stopped shaking eventually and attempted to curl up in my arms like a small and broken child. He sobbed and drooled all over me but I didn’t stop saying that I wasn’t leaving and he didn’t stop whispering threats.

Eventually he told me that he had decided that we could go to bed and I was so scared because he is a violent and aggressive outside of the bedroom but inside of the bedroom he is worse. I lay there next to him waiting and shivering with fear. Eventually he got up and angrily shoved me out of the way and I curled up into a ball as quickly as I could and listened. He left the room. Moments later I heard the sound of his bong type thing that wasn’t a bong but was like a bong. I hung onto any shred of wakefulness that I could but I had been in the hospital for so long the previous night that I couldn’t stop my eyes from closing anyways. Somewhere I could hear strange noises but I was too tired to focus on them and I had terrible flashbacks and nightmares and then all of a sudden the lights were on and he threw my cell-phone at me. It landed an inch away from my face and bounced ominously when it hit the bed.

I wrapped my arms around my legs and waited.

“I should be in jail, huh? I hate liars.”

He left the room in fury. He hit the wall on his way and I sat up shaking. This was really bad because I knew that the wall hitting only made him angrier and made him hurt me worse in the end.

I slowly and cautiously walked towards the living room. I stopped in the hallway with the couch separating us.

“Why did you go through my phone,” I whispered. It was a valid question even if it was the wrong time to ask it.

“I went through all of your stuff.”

The contents of my green robot bag were spilled across the floor and it didn’t take any detective work to see that they had been rummaged through and everything had been touched and looked at.

“I’m not a liar,” I whispered.

“I should go to jail? I SHOULD GO TO JAIL?”

“I didn’t say that,” I whispered even quieter than I had whispered before.

“What should I go to jail for? Huh? For fucking you too good?’

“I didn’t say that,” I whispered again but in my mind the spirited part of me that apparently wasn’t as dead as I had thought it was added, “You dumb fucking rapist.” Of course I didn’t say that out loud. I was suicidal but I didn’t want to die by his hands.

“Then what should I go to jail for? Tell me! All you ever do is lie! I thought you knew why I gave you a second chance! I thought you wanted to be good this time! What should I go to jail for? Tell me!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I wish that I could see your sent messages so I could now what you were saying. I can’t believe you are still talking to that little fuck! After all that he did to you! After all that he did to us!”

I was really confused because he had never even heard of Josh before and if he had it had been two years ago when I had said that he was like family to me and I hadn’t talked to him in a long time but I wasn’t even sure I had said that. I knew that I had mentioned the man that was closer than family to Colin before when I was on mushrooms because I had seen Josh’s energy and it was dancing in with mine and the light was intertwining and I knew it was him but that’s a different story. That’s when I realized that he thought Josh was Evan and I could use that to my advantage. I was going to be hurt badly and that wasn’t a question. How badly still was up for debate.

“You know what he’s like,” I whispered and I prayed that whatever higher force there was whatever energy there was knew that I didn’t for a second think Josh was like that or like anything bad.

He hit the floor and I stepped back. “You have to choose! I am NOT going through this again! It’s either him or me! CHOOSE!”

He was so angry but I couldn’t get to the door without passing in his arm’s length and backing into the room would just corner me more so I stepped over the couch. I wondered how badly I would be cursed for lying like I was about to. I wondered if it was true and that I had chosen Kurt by going to him. I wondered if I was going to die. I wondered if Josh would ever forgive me. If he would understand. I didn’t think that he would because he would have fought and I hadn’t. I had my reasons but they sounded so shallow without having felt the feelings behind them. I wished that I had fought harder but there was no point wishing and wondering now. I had to make a choice and the choice felt like it was life or death. It was. I told him that I was okay and I chose him and I could feel my heart scream out loud in sheer agony. I tried to reason with my heart and explain that I would say it now but as soon as I knew I could get away and he wouldn’t find me I would and I would run so far and so fast and I would never look back. I would never go back there. I promised my heart that once it was clear that I could get away without leaving a path I would go.

“How can I trust you,” he roared.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“I will check your phone everytime I see you.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

~~~~> You got to fight just to make it through cuz I will be the death of you <~~~~

He beckoned to me and I walked and lay down on the floor next to him and waited. I wrapped my arms around my knees and closed my eyes tightly and waited for the first blow.

He pet my hair absently and whispered that the best thing that humans have is their ability to choose. Ironic, isn’t it that he was stealing my right to choose but preaching about how awesome it was. I think he wanted me to leave because if I left then he could chase me down and find me and remind me that choosing was great but I didn’t have the ability to choose. He also whispered threats and each one sunk into my soul and felt like nails in my coffin.

That’s when I realized that I didn’t just feel like I was drowning.

I was dying.

He held me then but not like you hold a lover. He held me like a possession he was afraid of losing.

“I love you,” he said.

I pretended to snore. I don’t snore when I sleep but he still bought it.

~~~~~~~> I don’t need to be <~~~~~~

That wasn’t the worst of the hell period but I suppose you can guess that. If it hadn’t got worse I might not have found the courage to leave because I might have hoped that if I stayed nobody else would get hurt.

I didn’t think I had a choice.

~~~~~~~> I wish I had died instead of lived <~~~~~~

Part of me really longs to put this writing down and pick up one of my razorblades and draw it up my arm until none of this means anything. It is a small and selfish part. I promised myself when I started writing about what happened that I would not judge myself but I can feel the judgment and self-hatred rising up from the pit of my stomach. Self-hatred is the wrong word. I don’t hate myself for what he did to me but I do hate how I responded. I wish that I had walked away or run away faster.

Kurt was the devil in my life. He stole every breath of hope from my lungs and without hope how do you run? The very act of leaving is an act of hope.

Have you had enough of this story? I know that I have but let’s recap. I ran into Kurt by accident and out of a combination of stupidity and fear ran into him again. I went with him and he raped me. I got away by lying which is his least favorite thing and then out of fear I went back and whatever else happened. Sometimes I get really upset because I did go back and does that count as consent? I never for a second wanted him to touch me. Not at all. Legally, from what information I found on the internet, it is called duress and doesn’t count as consent. Because I went back under the threat of violence it is still legally rape. It sounds like bullshit to me. I hope it’s true though.

Anyways, Kurt wasn’t happy with me after the incident about how he should go to jail because he didn’t for a second believe that I hadn’t said something to make him (Josh who he thought was Evan) believe that he had done something wrong to make him belong in jail.

God, my timeline is a little mixed up I think so I’m going to just touch on a few other things that happened around that time.

He found out that he liked hurting me with toys when he was not able to get it up (which didn’t happen often). He tied my thighs to my neck and had to undo it because I completely snapped and I was screaming or something. I don’t remember. He also showed me the paddle but did not use it on me.

He liked to play dress up with me too and make me wear things. He tied my wrists to a collar he made me wear and tied my high-heeled shoes together too and wanted to take pictures. I don’t know if he did or not I went away.

A few days later I went to see a friend. She was living with three men and I did not know that when I went. Anyway, when I got there Julie and I started drinking and talking. Her boyfriend was around but mostly just Julie and I hung out. She got cuddly when she was drunk and kissed me which frightened me because she didn’t just kiss me she kissed Kurt’s possession and Kurt, like many guys, likes the idea of girl on girl (of course he did, what perverted bastard doesn’t) and he had tried to convince me to get a female friend to join in our fun and I had managed to avoid it as best as I could because I don’t believe in sleeping with more than one person at one time and because I didn’t want him to hurt somebody else, if I was taking that quantity of abuse because I was scared of what he would do then the least that he could do is leave everyone else alone. But Julie kissed me and if Kurt found out he would hurt her too and then he sent me a text message and my heart was beating a million miles an hour and I sent back some stupid message about how I wished that he was there which would have tipped him off without question because I didn’t say things like that to him

~~~~> It feels like I’m killing myself just willing myself just to pray for some help <~~~

The guy roommates started creeping me out by saying really perverted things and grabbing at my ass when I walked by. They talked a mile of shit about what they would do if I was their girl. They were probably all wind and nothing else but one way or another when Kurt asked what I was doing I had to answer because if you don’t reply to Kurt and if you don’t tell the truth he get’s you and he hurts you and I’m making him sound like the boogey man but to me he was the boogey man. Anyways, he said that he would come and get me.

I said that he didn’t have to and told him it was because it was late and I was so far on the other side of the city but the real reason was that I would rather be there a little bit uncomfortable and freaked out as opposed to being with someone as mean as Kurt was / is.

Kurt told me to tell him where I was because he was already in his van and he was going to get me.

I told Julie I needed the address and that Kurt wanted to see me and that if you don’t go when Kurt wants you it’s bad news and I didn’t want to get hurt worse then he would hurt me in the first place and I was drunk and frantic and I begged her to give me the address so that Kurt wouldn’t use his belt or his belt buckle or even the paddle. I begged her to let me go and she got really angry. She told me that she wasn’t going to tell me where we were and I shouldn’t go because I was worth more than that and I started hyperventilating I was frantic. I asked her boyfriend who told me to give Kurt the LRT station but he wouldn’t condone it either.

Julie angrily asked her roommates if they thought that real men should push girls around and they all said no and were really ticked off.

Kurt was fucking angry. He asked me to find some mail and to tell him where I was now.

I couldn’t.

Then he told me that he was by the LRT station and I bolted like somebody had taken a hot poker and shoved it straight up my ass. I was scared of what he would do if I made him wait on-top of everything else.

He saw me running down the street and did a crazy u-turn in the middle of the road to line up with me and then he jumped out of the van and I stood there stunned and frightened.

“Where are they?”

“No,” I screamed. Funny, isn’t it? I couldn’t stand up for myself because I knew that I wasn’t physically capable of backing any attempt to protect myself but when push came to shove I was able to stand up for those that I cared about (even those that I didn’t). Don’t think I didn’t think I was worth standing up for. I’m sure that crossed my mind because I blamed the whole thing on myself but at the end of the day I knew that if nothing else my kinders loved me and that meant that I was doing my job at the Out of School Care well and that meant that I was worth something however small that something might be.

“I came all this way and I just want to have a beer and a little chat.”

“I’m not going back,” I growled and I ran away.

He yelled something after me and I honestly don’t remember what it was. I’m not sure if it was a threat or if it was just him calling me a bad girl. Either would have spoken to me just as loudly. I stopped dead in my tracks and I slowly turned around. He said something else. It kind of bugs me I can’t remember what he said but it was enough to put me in my place. I stopped by the van shaking and staring at my feet. I waited for instructions.

“Get in the van.”

I climbed into the van, did up my seatbelt and waited.

He slammed the door shut.

We drove in silence but I could almost smell his anger. It was volatile and ready to explode in every direction or any direction at every time or any time.

I waited for the turn to go to his place and the anger and increased abuse but we drove past the turn and stopped at my place instead. I asked if he needed to come up because he was so angry and needed to cool down or it would be worse later.

He came upstairs and almost punched me but stopped himself. His fist wasn’t far from my stomach. He told me that I didn’t want to contact him for a while and he left in a rage.

When he told me that he needed to see me to “talk” to me the next day I felt crumpled and helpless. I wanted to run away. But I didn’t want him to find me and come get me because that would be worse. I knew that I was in for it this time. I dressed the way you dress when you know that you are headed for a severe beating. I wore loose fitting pants that weren’t flattering so he wouldn’t see any of my curves (he really liked my legs and had told me before that I had the perfect ass). I wore a t-shirt with a hoody so he wouldn’t see any cleavage or hint of my womanly form. I didn’t do any of the normal things that I would do before going anywhere (you know, brush my hair, put on a little mascara, or brush my teeth). I had the shakes when I got on the bus.

I knew one of these times I wouldn’t come back. Maybe I’d go too far and he would kill me.

~~~~> She knows exactly what’s in store and the knowing makes it worse <~~~~

When I got into his van at Southgate I slipped into the seat and stared at my feet and waited for the verbal assault to start. The physical stuff wouldn’t start until we were back at his place.

“I don’t talk just to hear my own voice,” he started.

“Sure you do, stupid rapist,” a voice inside of me answered but I remained silent.

“If I tell you that I want to go back to talk to someone what should you do?”

I didn’t answer, we were still in the van, it wasn’t like he was going to reach over and hit me so I could stay as quiet as I damn well pleased and he couldn’t beat it out of me either.

“What do you think you should do?”

I didn’t answer again.

“You are being a bad girl. I thought you said you wanted to be a good girl.”

I didn’t remember saying any such thing but I remained silent.

“That’s really bad Rebecca.”

I knew that I couldn’t hold my silence much longer or I would be risking something really serious.

We were at his apartment and I got out of the van and followed him. I kept my eyes on the ground. A very small part of me laughed at this, I remembered times that Josh had teased me that I couldn’t look at him and should look at the ground and now look at me. That’s exactly what I was doing. The rest of me didn’t see that much humor in the situation.

Finally he rephrased the question as I sat perched on the edge of the couch, the same place I always sat. “Why didn’t you tell me where they were?”

“Because I thought you would hurt them,” I whispered.

“And don’t you think they deserve that? Do you think anybody else should be touching you? You are my sex toy.”

I shook my head no.

“Were they touching you?”

“They tried to but they didn’t,” I whispered.

“Trying is the same as doing it. You have a pit-bull in your corner now. Nobody’s going to fuck with you.”

I wanted to say then what are you doing?

“I will protect you. If somebody fucks with you they fuck with me and I will fuck them up and don’t think that I can’t. Why didn’t you let me protect you?”

“Because I didn’t want to see it,” I whispered.

“I would have told you to wait in the hallway. Now we have to fix this situation. Nobody touches my toy. I want to talk to you’re friend who wouldn’t give you the address. Can you imagine what I was thinking?”

I shook my head no.

“I thought that they had kidnapped you, I thought they were physically restraining you. I was worried sick!”

“Yes, yes,” I thought, “Of course you were. How terrible it would be if somebody stole what you had decided to take! Yes, your poor little sex toy being taken away… wouldn’t that be terrible. Shit.”

“We need to fix this. You need to fix this.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

He spoke about ways he was going to use me to trick Julie into seeing me and how he was going to have a little talk with her about how what she was doing was illegal. He told me that if I didn’t do what he wanted me to we would get in the van right then and burn all of the houses on that block to the ground.

I shook my head no a lot.

He told me that I had some homework to do, that I had to write the reasons down why I thought he was giving me a second chance when he hadn’t even given his mother a second chance and I had to come up with at least two ways that I could trick Julie into meeting him.

I need to stop here and tell you before anything else that I didn’t let him hurt her.

The next time that I saw him was only a day later and I had not finished my “homework”. He told me that was okay as he had picked me up as a surprise from work anyways. I don’t remember if this was the time that this happened but it was either that time or the time after.

Kurt decided to fuck me and I decided to fight back. Not that seriously because I knew what the consequences were but seriously enough to put myself into danger.

He tried to pull me towards him and I started squirming, he’d grab my leg and I would wiggle it free and laugh at him. I laughed because if I didn’t laugh I would have to cry and I would have to admit that it was serious and it wasn’t a game to me.

He took my legs, both of them in one hand by the ankles and lifted me off the bed. He took his belt and started hitting me with it. I was kicking and screaming. I tried to pull my legs out of his hands but I couldn’t. I kicked the wall and left two long black streaks where my high-heeled shoes dug into the wall. I tried to roll backwards and away from him but he just took me as hard as he could and hit me with his belt.

He was furious.

It hurt really, really, really bad. It was nice knowing that I had fought, that I had done something but at the same time I had accomplished nothing. I had tried really hard but I hadn’t got anywhere. Afterwards he left me lying on the blood with his semen on the bed near my legs. I tried to curl up and stop whimpering. More than anything I wanted to cover my body from his penetrating gaze. He left the room without saying anything. He just gave me a look of disgust and left me there. When I pulled my clothes on as gingerly as I possibly could and limped into the living room he said, “That’s what you get for being so bad. That’s what you get. You’re lucky I didn’t bring out the paddle.”

Time after time he dragged me back there and I tried as hard as I could to keep my sanity, to keep my hope. I was fighting a losing battle.

A few days later he sent me a text message and asked me where I was.

I told him that I was having dinner with my friend Katie.

He asked where and I told him and he told me that he would be coming and joining us. He scared my friend. He kept trying to ask her where she was moving to so that he would know where she was in case I ran away again because it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she is my closest female friend in the whole world. He also made sure to constantly put me back in my place. If Katie and I were joking around he would make me feel like an idiot. He made it clear that he thought that I was fat and he kept checking her out. Later, I confronted him about it (not till much later, but I did) he denied it and said that he just thought that Katie’s lips were bigger than they had been last time he saw her. He made me feel like shit and Katie got really bad vibes from him and begged me to change my mind.

I’m going too fast again.

Shit.

Kurt kept hinting that I should move in with him and because I knew that he was going to make it happen anyways I suggested that I could have his spare room and then I could move in with him. He found those terms acceptable and I was supposed to be moving in with him two weeks after this interaction.

~~~~>And everything (I’m cold) seems a plaguin’ me <~~~~

I want to go home and stop telling this story. I want to go home but I don’t think I ever had a home. I mean, I was with my parents and that man was there, then I was living with Evan and that wasn’t home and then I had my own bachelor suite but I was so busy trying to drink myself to death that I didn’t treat that place like home and then there was Evan again and anywhere I lived with Evan didn’t feel like home and then there was my old roommates but they would move my shit and that doesn’t seem like a home thing to me and now I’m here with Josh but I’m just really in the way and I just want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I do not want this.

I don’t want to tell this story

I don’t want to face this.

I don’t want any of this.

Not then.

Not now.

Not ever again.

~~~~> What’s left but a section of pigmy size cuts much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks <~~~~

I need to take a break from writing this for a day or two because it hurts too much and I need to take the time to breathe before I face anymore of this.

I lied. Apparently the thought of taking a break and being free of the memories for a time only to have to face them again is too disgusting and unbearable. I would rather face the bullshit head on then have to come back and face it from the side time and time again to achieve the same end. Does that make sense? I hope so. Admittedly I am a little bit intoxicated but that seems to be the only way I’m able to face the memories although it does feel a little bit like cheating.

So, as far as I remember I left the story at the time that I tried my hardest to fight him off and didn’t succeed and he hurt me good and proper. He hurt me like one might hurt a… Shit, I don’t even have a metaphor it’s so fucked up. The point is that I tried to physically stick up for myself and he physically hit me with his belt and made me scream in agony that I honestly can’t remember that clearly. I must have been splitting when it happened. I don’t like going away when I’m trying to face the memories because it’s much harder to face things that you only partially remember.

I also remember that I skimmed over the moving in with him situation. That seems important. It’s also one of the most difficult to face aspects of this story though. That was my fault. Kurt liked to say things when he raped me. God, you think with how much he was hurting me that he wouldn’t have had time to talk but he found time to talk all the way through it. He would threaten me (obviously), compliment my body and insult my personality, and oodles of other stupid things. He was a really big stupid jerkwad. I like the feeling – as petty as it admittedly is – of regaining my sense of dignity by insulting his. Is that immature? Probably but it seems to be a necessary thing right now. Where was I? I don’t remember….

Right, so the moving in with him stuff. When he fucked me often he would talk about how I had to move in with him, how much easier it would make his life, how much he wanted to be able to fuck me whenever he wanted and the whole shebang and I would block him out but I still caught the gist of it. I go away, thoroughly, but I can still pick up on things people are saying, I’m not so far away that I can’t get that, although I am far away physically.

He never out right asked me to move in with him.

I need to rewind a whole bunch to make my actions make sense. When I was five years old I lost my virginity. This is a different story for a different time and I have no more desire to dig up the memories of the smell of ketchup on his kiss as I have the desire to shit blood so we aren’t going to go there. The point is, that I spent my childhood being fucked regularly.

I didn’t have any say in it.

I tried to stand up for myself once or twice but suffice to say that his punishments for me standing up for myself put Kurt’s ideas of a punishment to shame. It made Kurt look gentle and if I could count how many times he made me bleed… If I could count how many times he made me scream for mercy… Kurt wasn’t gentle but comparatively he wasn’t that bad. That man could teach Kurt a thing or two about abuse, just saying.

One of the things that his abuse taught me is that you have to – if you want to survive that is – anticipate the desires of your abuser before they have to say it or they will fuck you up. I am being so vulgar today. I feel like blaming it on the alcohol although that isn’t really a fair assessment of the situation as I probably would have said exactly the same things if I was brave enough when I was sober.

Do you ever want to cry so badly but not want to be weak so you can’t? Do you ever want to scream at the sky for a life that wasn’t right? I spent my childhood in fear of abuse that I COULD COUNT ON!!! I spent my young adult life with abusive men and then I was finally, finally, finally, finally happy with somebody who treated me well who I loved so deeply and then Kurt was back and then it was all bad again. I was happy, I know you probably don’t believe me because I have not tended towards happiness in my life but I truly was happy when I was with Josh. It’s not simple. None of it is simple. But it could have been and maybe it even would have been if it hadn’t been for Kurt.

I want to scream. Out loud. At the top of my lungs for no reason other than that everything in my life has hurt so badly it’s not right.

Anyways, as I said, that man trained me to understand that if I said no that it would just lead to further punishment and that if I didn’t anticipate what he wanted that he would hurt me real bad and when Kurt kept saying that he wanted me to move in with him I had to act. It wasn’t thought out, it was instinctive. I got scared of what he would do to me if I didn’t do what he wanted me to do. So I told him that I thought that it would be a good idea for us to move in together.

Kurt raped me and hurt me badly.

I told him we could move in together.

Do you understand?

I don’t.

I feel dizzy, too much booze too little food. I’m going to go scare up one of my blades and make me feel better with a blade. That is one of the only ways these days.

Over the week that we were together after that happened he became more and more controlling. If I was seeing anyone he would get angry. If I coudn't be with him every single time that he wanted me he got angry. He was rough with me and he was constantly mad at me. He was so angry! I don't understand it. He would get angry over everything and use everything as an excuse to hurt me.

He liked watching pornography when he fucked me because he knew that after everything I had been through and done I hate(d) the porn industry.  He would make me feel inadequate on a regular basis.  He also said "you're mine now" enough times to make it stick in my head.