Rape

It amuses me to no end that I was raped.

It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Feeling truly powerless, fearing that maybe they are going to kill you afterwards. You're mind racing to every horrible conclusion you have ever heard. And when you know you can't fight them off, you know that you are at their complete mercy. Their will and morals. You just pray that you make it through it, and that you'll change if you can only just escape....

But after that, after the crying and self loathing. After the fear they will find you again. After all of that you can't help but think "They wanted me so badly they took it by force".

I know that rape is often a powerplay. A chance for them to feel oh so manly and tough that they can hold down a 120lb crying kid and forcibly penetrate them. In that moment they truly hold your fate in their hands, and the only thing you can do is pray they don't end your life.

It was awful. There is no denying the fear that was there. It was horrifying. I still remember thinking that all I wanted to do was tell my mom I loved her, just one last time. It was a powerful moment. It made me rethink a lot of the choices I was making. What if that really was the end? That at the end of this violent act I would find the end of a knife, or his hands around my throat..... That I would simply disappear from the world. Last thing I'd look at was my phone on the floor by my pants, wishing it was somehow in my hands....

I made it out alive, thank god. He threw me my clothes and ordered me to get out. I ran as fast as I could. Never mind I was in my underwear at 3 in the morning on a freezing January night. Barefeet on ice. I just wanted to be as far away from there as possible in case he changed his mind......

I remember going home to my boyfriend and just crying on him.... He always had an idea what I was doing behind his back. But never asked any questions because he was pretty much doing the same. He held me all throughout the night, and never questioned why I suddenly didn't want to have sex anymore. I think he knew, but he wanted me to say something first....

As I learned to cope with it, it started coming back to me. My original selfish reason I wanted to be an escort in the first place. I wanted to be wanted. Once I started seeing it in that light, it wasn't so bad... I started liking the idea that someone wanted me that badly. That they were willing to break the law (more than we already were) and risk prison just to get their satisfaction.

I once voiced this aloud, and my friend told me they weren't in it for me. They were in it for the power. God-dammit, if this is what helps me sleep at night, let me have it! Let me keep my little fantasy! It's not hurting you, though it is helping me. and now, so many weeks later, I can't help but be slightly amused by the idea. Someone wanted me that much....