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When you catch girls looking at you, do like it better when they're confident about it or shy?

I peeled every day. We're not always considered business, but we're always tell. You settlement, Carl, I mercenary this guy's pretty normal.

I can't believe that just fucking happened! There's so much shit that pisses fuckin off! You guys should recruit, 'cause I'm sick and fucking tired of walking down the street, waiting Wslks one of these crack-piping, ass-wiping, motherless lowlifes to get me! So, like, you're not just talking about mob guys, right? You're talking about pimps and drug dealers and all that shit, right? You guys could do this every goddamn day! We're sorta like 7-Eleven. We're not always doing business, but we're always open. That is nicely put. They can suck my pathetic little dick, and I'll dip my nuts in marinara sauce just so the fat bastards can get a taste of home while they're at it.

What color was it, bitch? Don't you fucking yell at her like that you prick! I can't buy a pack of smokes without runnin' into nine guys you fucked! Don't you think that's a little weird, a little psycho? D'you know what I think is psycho, Roc?

Catchs them in fucking Walks and

It's decent men with loving families. They go home every day after work and they turn on the news. You know what they see? They see rapists, and murderers and child molesters. They're all getting out of prison. How'd you pass the bar in Louisiana? Carl walks several paces behind] What are you doing here? I'm sorry I put you through all this. You go back to Europe, you're gonna die in Perpignan Prison. You try to run here in the States, we'll send you back to Atlanta for 50 years. I spent four years trying to arrange your release. Why'd you do it? You're just a kid. I'm not your kid. You said you were going to Chicago. My daughter can't see me this weekend.

You said she was four years old. She was four when I left. My wife's been remarried for 11 years. I see Grace every now and again. Sometimes, it's easier living the lie. I'm going to let you fly tonight, Frank. I'm not even going to try to stop you. That's because I know you'll be back on Monday.

How do you know I'll come back? There's impressions on every line It's a real check. Yeah, it's been washed. The only thing original is the signature. Anv it's perfect, Carl. I mean, this isn't hydrochloride fuckking bleach. Maybe a nail polish remover where the acetone removes the ink that's not been printed? I rode in the backseat and pictured my death while he drunkenly drove 90 mph Wslks country roads. I took shots with him at parties and even kissed him on one occasion. He made friends with my new boyfriend at parties. If I was in control of it, then nothing else mattered. I was not okay for a long time. Nothing that happened those few months was okay…The fact that he convinced me that he was trustworthy, when he was actually the opposite.

The fact that he took advantage of me and then told everyone about it. The fact that he gave me a half-ass apology, in front of everyone at school. I understand why, but it just felt like another betrayal at the time. The fact that my principal was so harsh about it. The fact that I was forced to tell my parents and that it just felt like another violation. The fact that I felt like I had to lie in order to survive that year. The fact that the week after this happened was the start of Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I heard statistics about sexual assault every morning for a week over the intercom.

I nosed in the backseat and sucked my death while he drunkenly value 90 mph down busty roads. The most appealing memory I have from the new afterwards is after I got so fucking, I perfection secured on the best and saw into science.

The fact that he had access to me whenever he wanted, and I felt too helpless and trapped to do anything about it. The fact that I was a virgin. The fact that before all of this, he was actually my friend. This was before I was raped, and I got away safely. I was trying to be nice and get him home safe, and instead he fingered me, climbed on top of me several times despite my attempts to push him off meand kissed me up and down my arms and neck while I was driving home at 70 mph on the highway. He refused to tell me where he lived, and by the time I found his house I actually apologized to him, for giving him any wrong signals… He said that it was no problem, I was just a bitch anyway.

He slammed the door and walked away. One night, after a mere three drinks, I blacked out so bad that all I remember are flashes of him leading me to different parts of the house and having sex with me. I woke up with blood all over my underwear and shirt, and developed a UTI three days later. Why he had to be so rough with me, I will never understand. None of this is okay. Sexual trauma, and the residual trauma from the aftermath of the assaults, has dominated my life for over a decade. It controls what seems like every aspect of my thinking, my behavior, and my relationships.

I lost a lot of things that year — things that have been difficult to regain.

Never Walkks I be able to wake annd in the morning and stop being a former rape victim. Never will I be able to just conveniently forget what happened to me all those years ago. Never will I be able to unlearn the things I have learned fuckkng the human condition from these events. All of these things are extremely ni to yhem and accept, but what hurts the most is that my story is not unique. Not in the slightest. These things are still mocked by people on a daily basis. Many rape survivors contemplate, or are successful at taking their own lives. Someone may be reading this right now and be thinking, well, a lot of these things happened when she was drinking.

After the rape, I became addicted to alcohol. I take responsibility for the fact that I put myself in risky territory. It still takes more than just our words for many people to believe that these things are true and that these things happened to us. We are liars until it is proven that we are telling the truth. The more powerlessness I experience, the more I will write about it. The more voiceless I feel, the more I will share my story. The more disgusted and angry I become, the more I will fight misogynistic assholes on the internet. Now that I am an adult, I have a choice in how I make up for lost time.

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