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chillafqueen · 6 years ago

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When I was 12 years old, I was sexually assaulted by someone younger than me. It was my friend(a female), at the time,'s younger brother. He was a couple years younger than me. Whenever I went to this friend's house and her younger brother was home, and we were in her room, where their father couldn't see, he would force me on to a bed, and he'd dry hump me. On my side, or from behind.

I was a quiet girl, rather shy. I didn't ever want to get in trouble.

And my friend told me not to say anything, don't scream, don't tell on her brother, because we'd all get in trouble and she'd be grounded, and we wouldn't be able to hang out.

So when he would get on top of me, I didn't make a noise. I thought it was just some kid playing around. He pretended to be a dog, humping anything it saw and he'd do it to her and then me. She would shrug him off and then he'd go to me. When I could no longer keep him off, I ignored it. It’d eventually be over.

He was bigger than me. He weighed more, he was taller, he was stronger, so even if I really fought back, I was stuck either way.

But I didn't make a noise. I didn't tell anyone.

And it happened multiple times. It didn't feel wrong, it didn't make my instincts kick in. Until the day i felt his dick, hard against my butt. That day my heart stopped, my mind panicked and I finally had enough. I finally realized this was wrong. That he was doing more than playing around. I cried, I squirmed around and shouted for him to stop. Their father wasn't home that day to hear but my struggle was enough. He got off me and called me a bitch, a crybaby, a drama queen. "He wasn't hurting me" but it was enough to get him to stop.

Sometime later, me and that friend stopped being friends. It wasn't until more recently (the last two years) that I stopped trying to disprove my own assault.

Although, I've forgotten a lot of it

Looking back at it, and remembering details, I can only see it out of body.

Though, I have bad ADHD, and I can't remember anything. I can't remember my childhood. I can remember names and places, but that's it. I can't remember anything I'm detail that's over a month old in memory. And even then I over think and doubt my own memory.

I can't tell you word for word dialogue, or play by play action. I can't tell you what month it was. I was in 7th grade. I was 12 years old. I was sexually assaulted by a kid who was still in elementary. I only recently told anyone, being it be two friends, and my grandfather when we got in a heated argument about the Ford vs Kavanaugh. And my grandfather doesn't believe Ford btw. He also believes if a person doesn't immediately report their incident to law enforcement, they're promoting rape, but that's another story.

When my grandfather found out, he wanted names, dates and details. I panicked. I then told him no more. I don't want law enforcement involved. I want nothing more than the guy who attacked me to feel the same pain and shame I do. I just want him to know that what he did was wrong and to never do it to anyone else. I also never reported it or ever want to because I still try to convince myself that it wasn’t really wrong. That it wasn’t anything more than a kid pretending to be a male dog being territorial. I already question myself enough, I don’t want people questioning me, digging up details, or tell me that it wasn’t real or it wasn’t sexual assault. I don’t want to be judged.

I try to down play and disprove my own trauma.

I should've fought back before. On the first time. I should've told someone. I mean, at that point I'm asking for it, right? It wasn't really sexual assault. Others have had it worse.

I can't remember my assault for shit. It couldn't have been that bad. Others have had it worse. I was lucky that was it. My mind is constantly telling me this.

I saw him more recently. He used to be my neighbor, until he moved to South Carolina to be with his mom. But he still visits down here during the summer.

I see him every summer. He is friendly. I added him on Facebook when he sent the request. He doesn't bring it up. Neither will I. He tried to talk to me. I was polite and responded. Until he become a bit more forceful and suggestive in the conversation. I would then block him.

He is now 16/17. I am now 19, turning 20 in 33 days. The incident happened over 7 years ago.

And only months ago did I realize what happened.

Not long after that happened, I got into a relationship with my first girlfriend.

We were friends. We were the same age, lived close by each other, went to the same school. She was new that year, and we became friends through the friend from above. We used gmail’s chat feature to talk.

She got me into emo stuff. My Chemical Romance mainly. Youtube, tumblr, sexuality, politics, emo culture.

We liked a lot of the same stuff. She introduced me to most of the things I am about now. My personality is a lot of because of her. I mean, sure, I think eventually, I was going to go down that rabbit hole eventually. But she helped speed up the process.

Now, I didn’t understand my feelings for her. I didn’t even know I liked her. In fact, anything besides heterosexuality was as imaginary as the Easter Bunny. It was on tv. In movies, tv, and books. But only for comedic, not to be taken serious, effect. But here in Nebraska, in a conservative family, being gay wasn’t real. I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t a “normal” person. I guess my family was really good at shielding me from anything that could shift me.

Being gay, or even bi, or pan, wasn’t something that even popped into my mind. At that point, I only ever liked boys. I never liked a girl.

But eventually, I sort of gravitated to her more than my other friends. I craved her touch. She was my new sunshine.

February 26, 2012. She suggested that we be in a relationship. And that was like someone showing me the light. A new door opened to me.

Me? A girl dating a girl? Unbelievable. That didn’t happen in real life, did it?

But it answered a part of a question I didn’t know I had.

We hung out a lot the time. We mainly were in her room. And in the span of a month or so, came events that gave me more questions than answers, to this day I can’t even fathom to ever find answers for.

We dated in secret. Because, even though, at this point, I just found out that I was at least bisexual after finding out liking anything besides the opposite sex even was real life. But I knew that this was “wrong”. I knew my family, and hers wouldn’t approve. I didn’t know exactly what the consequences would be, but I thought it couldn’t be good.

We held hands, kissed, cuddled. Normal things. I thought everything was fine.

Until one day she put her tongue in my mouth. She had brought up the idea many times, and I said I wasn’t ready for that, and I didn’t want it.

Then she forced her tongue into my mouth. I didn’t let her continue. I pulled away. My stomach turned, and my mind went into panic mode. I felt wrong.

I broke up her.

But she had me wrapped around her finger. She dangled her life over my actions. If I didn’t want to hang out with her, she would tell me that if I wasn’t there, she would probably end up cutting herself.

(We used to show off our cuts to each other. Yes, we both self harmed around the same time. I first started cutting a year before I met, her. But that really isn’t the point here.)

I had a best friend, who is still my best friend to this day. (10 years this September) While dating this girl, I used all my free time on her. After school, we were together. On the weekends, we had sleepovers.

I was neglecting my best friend. I only hung out with her now, when my girlfriend couldn’t. So I wanted to hang out with her. I choose to be with her one day instead of my girlfriend. She didn’t like that. While she didn’t tell me she was going to cut herself because of me, but she always worded it like it was my fault she was cutting herself. And so I didn’t hang out with best friend.

But anyway, she forced her tongue into my mouth, we broke up.

We got together the next day.

The night between was hell. I was scared out of my mind that she was going to hurt herself. It would be my fault she was going to hurt herself.

But she didn’t apologize. She just asked if we could try again. I said yes, because, well I was 12, I was in puppy dog love with her. When she put her tongue into my mouth, I let her. I got over that panicked feeling, well more, like... ignored it. I never liked it, but I let it happen. It was my own damn fault that I didn’t like it. I would eventually like this, right?

No. I would try to distract her, to divert her attention to other things. She would get closer, I would look the other way, and start talking about random things I saw in the texture of the ceiling paint.

I thought I was just nervous.

About a month into our relationship, I told her I loved her. She declined my feelings. She told me that this wasn’t a serious relationship and she couldn’t love me when we were only in middle school. It hurt, sure.

She would continue the physical part of our relationship. She would kiss my neck, leave hickeys, touch my chest, touch me in between my legs. Even when I told her I didn’t like it, she would ignore it, she would tell me I’d like it.

I never did. I pretended to like it to not upset her.

One day, trying to please her, I experimented, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was going to try something and see if I’d like it. I touched her instead. I touched her in between her legs.

It felt wrong. She hooked her legs around me, and begged me to continue. I tried to stop. I told her I was done. That I didn’t like it. She held me to her with her legs still and pleaded that I continue.

I did. I hated it. I would eventually have enough of it, and stop.

Our relationship would dissolve sometime soon after.

We were fighting, disagreeing on things. The pressure to fit in was getting to me. I was an outcast as is. No one really liked me. I had no real friends in my class.

Except her. People didn’t like her. Even more than me. And also having our relationship known at school, people would make fun of us. Being 12/13, my reputation meant at least something to me. The pressure would end up getting to me.

We would break up but still be friends. Until one day, in a class, I can’t remember much of. We sat together at our table. Brad, a kid in our class made some kind of joke that was something about something. I think it might’ve been some joke about rape. Now it wasn’t a joke about raping someone, or laughing at someone for rape. I don’t know what the joke was but it was kinda dark. It wasn’t pointed at the act of rape, or laughing at a victim. I don’t know what it was really truly about. But my now ex girlfriend didn’t like the joke.

The whole class laughed at the joke, even me. But she didn’t. She hit me. Right there in class. She smacked me right in the face. It didn’t really hurt that much. I mean, my nose throbbed for a few seconds. I never thought any type of rape or forceful sexual stuff was okay. I knew rape was wrong. I know the joke was something about some sort of thing that gravitated towards rapey?? I don’t know. I just know that her hitting me was not okay. That was the last straw for me.

We stopped being friends.

at the end of 7th grade, she moved away to another state. We didn’t keep contact. We hated each other when she left.

I hated her for feelings that I didn’t understand. I bullied her. Never to her face, but I joked with the other kids, I talked shit about her to my friend.

My best friend, years later would tell me that my girlfriend pulled moves on her when we were still together, or right after. When she was supposed to hate my friend.

I don’t feel good about bullying her, because it is never justified. by ninth grade, she reached out to me. We reconciled. We never have been good friends. We have talked maybe once or twice a year for years to come.

It took me a long time to stop blaming myself for how our relationship ended.

It was my fault. All of it. My mind erased all her manipulation, abuse, neglect and her sexual assaulting me. Because we were both girls. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen in non-straight relationships.

I never thought it was sexual assault of any kind. I should’ve really fought back. I should’ve her stop. I should’ve made more of an effort to let her know that I didn’t like it. For a long time, I thought I was broken.

There had to be something wrong with me for not wanting her in a more physical way.

I’m asexual. I didn’t understand what I was until I was 18. I’ve never felt real sexual desire for anyone. I’m grey-asexual. For the longest time I thought I was broken. That it was just my self esteem that got in the way.

When I lost my virginity to a boy who told me that he’d love me if I let him do it. I hated every moment of it. I pretended to like it because I had to let him continue because he’d finally love me when it was over. He would then tell everyone at school, make up fake details, and call me a whore to my face. When he was the only person I had ever had sex with. I was a whore for letting him have sex with me.

I thought maybe because of that experience that it was just fear that got in the way. But to this day, I’ve never felt pleasure from physical affection. When I’ve forced myself to ignore it, my body and mind went into panic mode. I thought I was broken.

But my sexuality doesn’t make what happened to me okay.

After all these years, I’ve finally found at least a part of an answer.

I was sexually assaulted by two people. A friend’s younger brother, and an ex girlfriend.

I never realized it was anything more than a fleeting thought until I became more knowledgeable. That consent, rejection, and rape or sexual assault was more than black and white. That rape or sexual assault was only just something that happened when a guy forces a girl to sex and when I mean force, I mean, she can’t move, she can’t fight back.

I thought that it couldn’t be assault of any kind. I never was in danger. I’m sure if I put up a real fight that I’d get away, that it’d stop. That it was my fault for not liking it.

I never told anyone. Until more recently.

I downplay my own trauma. I know people who have actually fought back, who were incapacitated and couldn’t fight back. They were raped, or molested in some way, way worse than me.

So i wasn’t sexually assaulted in anyway. Right?

I don’t know. I just thought if I wrote down my thoughts, it would be more real. Just more of a rant, or a proclamation to myself.

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cloversreblogs · 7 years ago

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Brass in the grey- Chpt. 10

Previous chapters (AO3 only): 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9

Links: FFN.net, AO3, Wattpad

Read on Tumblr: 7 / 8 / 9 / X / 11

Christmas chapter because Christmas! :D

Pairing: FrUK

Genre: Modern AU, Artists AU

Chapter rating: K

Chapter warning(s): None!

Just some quick Christmas fluff for the holidays :) The bolded lines are the phone dialogue, btw.

João- Portugal

Angus- Scotland

Just as swiftly as the transition of November to December, Autumn left and Winter arrived.

The snow had a delicate magic to it. It turned whatever it touched into something sublime and enchanting. The park's trees had long lost its leaves the previous week, but this morning, a blanket of snow had covered the park so that it was like a piece of Narnia had dropped into London.

"Anything else on your mind, Francis?" The therapist asked.

"Erhm… no, actually," he replied. It was actually the first time in a while that he had meant it when he said those words.

"Alright, fantastic!" She said with a smile, and they shook hands. "I think that you've made quite a lot of progress over the couple of weeks! I'll be visiting my family back in Suffolk, so I won't be here for the rest of the year, sadly. Are you planning to do anything for Christmas?" she asked as Francis grabbed his coat.

"Not much. I'll probably just Skype my dad and such. One of my friend's brother have a Christmas party going on at their place, so I'll probably be there."

"Sounds great! See you next year! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too!" And then he left his therapist's office.

Dr. Turner was a therapist who Francis saw every two weeks. Even though this was only their second session, Francis was starting to feel better already.

Her office was across a mall near the apartment block, so as he walked through it, he could hear the Christmas cheer everywhere.

Carollers were singing the carol of the bells, a Christmas tree that touched the ceiling stood proudly in the centre of the room, a line of children lined up for a mall Santa, and people carrying bags of wrapping paper as well as toys and other gifts buzzed like bees. A violinist who busked outside of the mall played Silent Night, and Francis tossed a shilling to the violin case.

It was even snowing a bit, just enough to dust the people in snow, but not too heavily as to cover people up with snow entirely, which added to the nice Christmassy atmosphere.

Very soon, he made it back to the apartment. The apartment was decorated with tinsel and Christmas lights. Gilbert plugged in the Christmas lights, making the Christmas tree in the middle of the room light up.

The TV was showing Home Alone, while on the couch, he could see Antonio chatting with his (recently declared) boyfriend Roderich.

"Hey Fran!" Antonio called out. Gilbert, on the other hand wasn't as certain.

"Ah, Fran! Erhm… how was the therapist's?"

Sure, Francis had felt better, but ever since he had told him about his anxieties, Gilbert had started restraining everything that he said.

"Gil, it's fine, you don't need to censor everything you say. I wasn't being completely honest with myself over the last couple of months, so I'm trying to do so right now. I'll just remind you whenever I want the topic to be changed. OK?"

"Hm, kay." Gilbert still seemed distracted. Francis sighed. He was a perfectionist, and hated causing problems.

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door. While turning the doorknob, a small part of him wondered if it was Arthur. Turned out, it was Antonio's brother, João, who had came all the way from Portugal. He greeted him, and went over to the sofa before promptly going into a lengthy conversation with Antonio.

As Francis stood, and looked over to Antonio with João and Roderich, he realised something.

Arthur on the other hand lived alone, as far as he could tell. He never mentioned much family, either. Was Arthur spending Christmas alone?

He walked into the bedroom, and dialled Arthur's number.

"Hello?"

"Arthur! Hi! We're having a Christmas party at a friend of mine's, do you want to come?"

"Erhm… no thanks. Parties aren't exactly my thing."

After some more small talk, (how were you, etc) they hung up.

Francis thought. Maybe he could go over to his apartment, but then there was the Christmas party over at Ludwig's house, and he didn't want to miss that. On the other hand… how alone was Arthur? Maybe he could just give him a gift or something.

He knew that Arthur liked to read, but his bookshelves were full, and besides, it was sort of a predictable present. Arthur wasn't great at cooking, so maybe he could cook him something. Maybe a casserole? They still had more than an hour until they needed to be at Ludwig's. Yes, that sounded good.

And so he got to the kitchen and got to work.

Watching re-runs of Doctor Who while embroidering and sipping hot chocolate was a good way to spend Christmas, in Arthur's book. He wasn't the type who got too festive of anything, he just hung up some tinsel and called it a day.

He held up the embroidery hoop, and examined the piece of embroidery. The blanket stitches hadn't worked as well as he had hoped, and were a bit wide for his liking. Again, the satin stitch-

A knock on the door distracted him, and he stood up. He was pretty confident that it was Francis, though he wasn't sure why he was here, especially so shortly after a phone call. He took a deep breath in. The worst case scenario would probably be Francis accusing him for not wanting to go to the Christmas party, though he reasoned with himself that it'd be insanely unlikely. The best case scenario would be that Francis decided to spend Christmas with him or something like that. The most likely thing would be that Francis decided to drop in for a quick "Merry Christmas", maybe even give a card or a gift or something.

As per with his third prediction, Francis was standing at the door carrying a casserole pot.

"Hi, Arthur!" He greeted before handing him the pot with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

"Ah." He took the pot. Even with the lid closed, he could smell the savoury content of the pot, and it smelt absolutely mouth watering. "Thank you. Erhm, wow, you didn't have to give me a casserole." Francis smiled, and shrugged.

"It's the least I can do. I have to go now, unfortunately. Bye!"

Arthur waved while Francis walked away to join with another small party of people. Arthur looked down at the hallway, and then down at the casserole, still warm in his hands. It had been awhile since he was given a Christmas present. Sure, there were still the Christmas cards given by that overly festive co-worker, but otherwise, it had been awhile.

He brung the casserole back into his apartment and onto the table. Actually, it had been awhile since he had something close to a proper Christmas dinner. During Christmas, he usually went out to eat, whether if it was at a fancy diner or at a takeaway place. The last time he had a proper, hearty Christmas dinner was…

Was…

Seven years ago.

Had it really been that long? Wow. Seven years. Almost an entire decade.

He grabbed a dish and opened the lid. The tantalising aroma of hot lamb, rosemary, potatoes, and peas flooded the room immediately. His mouth watered. It smelt delicious!

A memory popped in his head. One year during Christmas, Angus tripped on the cat and fell into the trifle. He snickered at the memory. Mum wouldn't let the cat sleep on the dining room floor after that.

After he put some of the casserole into the dish, he noticed the way the potato slices were arranged so that they overlapped like fish scales. His own mother would just stack them.

He blew the casserole piece on the fork, and ate it. A million memories of Christmas during his childhood flooded his mind.

It tasted good. It tasted like home.

Arthur went on to finish half the casserole, and put the pot into the fridge. While he did, he wondered: shouldn't he give Francis a Christmas present as well?

He thought. What would Francis like as a present? Something music related, maybe? The stores were closed already, so if he was to give him a present, he would had to improvise. He definitely couldn't give him something cooked, hell no. Well he did have books…

There was this book he bought earlier in the year. Arthur walked over to his bookshelf. He had only read it once or twice, so it should be somewhere at the bottom shelf…

Ah! There it was wedged in the bottom. He pulled the book out, and brushed the cover.

For a second, he wondered if it was a good idea. Was he really going to give him a book? At least the casserole had effort put into it, this book was pretty much just something he pulled out of his ass.

Arthur took a deep breath in. The shops were closed, and he couldn't think of anything more suitable as a present. At least the book wasn't at the same calibre as, say, gifting Francis a used napkin or a plastic bag, at least there was some thought put into it. Besides, the book was still in a pretty good condition.

After reminding himself of those things, he felt better about it, and went out and headed downstairs.

"Hey, Fran, I think that this is for you or something," Gilbert called out as he came back from collecting mail the next day.

"Hm?"

"Here. It's from that Arthur guy." He handed him a book with a post-it note stuck onto it. A book from Arthur? Huh. The cover had a blue trombone on it. The reason that Arthur had picked this one was probably because it was about trombones, which was somewhat close to saxophones. Sure, Francis didn't like trombones more than saxophones, much less know how to play one, but he appreciated that at least Arthurĺ tried to pick something that peaked his interests.

"Thanks, Gil." He read the note:

Hi, I found this book while rummaging through my things. It's a book about a girl with sound-colour synesthesia, and it's quite an interesting read. The shops were closed, so I wasn't able to get wrapping paper, I must apologise. By the way, thank you for the casserole.

Merry Christmas,

Arthur

He flipped the book over, and read the summary. Reading books were not exactly his thing, but the premise sounded interesting. He reached for his phone:

Thank you for the book! <3

A few seconds later, there was another text:

You're welcome :-)

The book, trombones are blue, is a real book, by the way, though it is a WIP by @wildrhov. Thank you, Rhov for letting me mention the book!

I'll be taking a bit of a hiatus to figure out what's going to happen in the next couple of chapters, so no chapters next month, unfortunately. But on the other hand, thank you for the comments last chapter!

Happy holidays, everybody!

#aph france #aph england #brass in the grey #my writing #fruk

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