Going through rape and torture has made me feel like creating a space where people who have gone through similar experiences can share them and feel less lonely…

I am almost sure that practically every woman (or person) who was raped feels helpless and has a deep wound inside (the wound of having been face-to-face with the most brutish side that a so-called-person can reveal), which needs to be covered with lots of love, appreciation and safety feelings.

One learns to search and provide for care oneself, learns to cope with memories as well, but finding someone who can understand and instinctively fulfil those needs is a true miracle.

Rapists try to have power over another, in a very poor and sad way. Its all about torture, humiliation and something they don’t have – be it innocence, youth or just, generally, the ability to love and feel empathy – and want to get it from someone else. Get it? No, they want to be gratuitously evil.

Like many other young women in the University city where I studied, I was raped by a stranger just a couple of months before I completed 19 years old. This stranger forced me to kiss him, forced me inside an old building and a room, locked the door and stood in front of it masturbating with animal and killer eyes, indifferent to my requests to let me out and multiple clear refusals to make love to him (before forcing me inside the building, when he simulated a romantic approach, and after that as well).

He undressed me by force, penetrated me by force, forced my arms (with which I was trying to cover my breasts, not to give him the “pleasure” of seeing them) so he could come on my chest (he said “do you want me to come on your chest?” and did it, as if not noticing my denial, shouts, pain and closed eyes, that is, trying to humiliate the maximum and show power) and forced me to have shower in front of him afterwards.

No, he said “let’s have a shower together”, as if I had had any pleasure at all or was romantically attracted to him. I insisted I would have it alone, shaking from the tip of my hair to my toes about the consequences that ultimate dignity stubbornness would have for me, feeling helpless and in shock showering alone, while he watched me all the time from the door, with his assassin eyes. Knowing that with a single punch he could kill me, and feeling he wanted so.

It is difficult to imagine a higher degree of sickness, perversion and cruelty. A torture like this is probably one of the hardest experiences one can go through in life. But I feel lucky I survived.

As far as I know, he was never found nor punished, even though I can remember perfectly how he looked like and all the details, after so many years. As years passed, it became harder to make justice happen.

I got over such experience with time and many mistakes on the way. Perhaps one never gets over it completely, except with love, care, and huge amounts of tenderness. One has no choice but to stop blaming oneself, appreciate the simplest, most precious moments in life, try to be surrounded by love (find it, value it, cherish it), and look ahead. Try to forget it, it’s past. Love, by believing and living it, makes you refuse to become revolted, happiness is the true revenge. You are finally pacified.

I wonder how many women (and children, teenagers, men) keep such thing in secret. Because it’s so painful to tell. If you don’t tell, you might become a victim of yourself (of the feelings you have inside and want to share, like blame, humiliation and injustice), or allow other people to be victims. BUT: you should only tell when you feel prepared to.

Then you stop being a victim, you’re a person to whom unfortunately it happened, and was lucky enough to survive, or brave enough to tell. It does not define who you are nor what you do, I refuse to think like that. That’s why I’ve been having this idea of creating a blog just for people who have gone through such experiences and want to share them, even anonymously… I’m sure it can help someone.

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