#MeToo

It all started when I was 16 and I met a boy. He was sweet at first. I met him just after my 16th birthday on a school trip. He was kind enough to give me his sweater when I was cold, even if that meant he was in a t-shirt. He was always like this.

We started dating a few months later. He was so sweet to me. He cared about me. He always asked how I was doing, called me to talk until 3 in the morning, and then would meet me at my grandfather's door to walk to school in the morning. He was gentle and soft. I was battling with depression — and I still am — but at the time, I was self-harming. He took care of me. If it happened, he would bandage me up and whisper sweet nothings into my ear until I fell asleep. I would wake up being held in a tight embrace. I thought he was the one. When my grandmother died, he held me as I cried. When my sister's birthday came around, he was a gentlemen to my family and was great with the kids. In my eyes, he was perfect. I guess that is why I didn't see the signs.

He started to get controlling. It wasn't noticeable. No one saw it. Hell, I barely saw it. It was emotional abuse, really. He would make me feel guilty for spending time with other people. If I didn't respond to his messages I would be made to felt like I was horrible. I did't see the issue then.

Months into the relationship, he started getting physical. Just small things... grabbing me hard enough to leave slight bruises... pushing me around. I thought it was my fault. I didn't see the issue. He eventually escalated into slapping and punching. Then came the sexual abuse. It started when I lost my virginity... not by my choice. He was upset, he was horny, and he wanted more than a simple blow job. He guilted me into it. I felt like I needed to, so I laid down on his couch without a word as he ripped my clothes off of me, literally tearing my shirt. I cried. It hurt. I asked him to stop. He didn't listen. I couldn't move. I wanted to but there was something holding me back. When he was done, I laid there in pain until my father came to pick me up. I had to go to Walmart with him. I had to pretend like nothing happened.

For the next two months of the relationship, I just gave in to sex. I lost my sanity. I lost my mind. I was just a shell of a human being.

I don't really know when, or how it happened — everything is all blurred together — but I got up the courage to leave him.

Every day, I walk around with a fear he is going to find me, that he is around the corner, that he will hurt me again. I moved ten hours away but it sticks to you. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of it. I relive the memories every night in such a vivid way. It is like it is happening even now. I slept around a lot, just trying to make sex okay. It took me a long time to trust someone with my heart again, but I have and they made sex more than just numbness. They made it enjoyable. And because of them I am getting better. It gets better.