Type of Aggie currently: Staff
Classification/age at time: 17
Location of crime: Temple, TX
Was the crime reported: No
Reasoning for decision to report or not report: "I was 17 years old. I didn't know I could report it, really. I felt like it was my fault."
"I dated several boys when I was in High School, a lot of them weren’t really serious. One guy in particular had a truck and would pick me up from my house at night – we would drive around, eventually park, make out, and then he would take me home. It was exciting and fun, especially because my parents didn’t know. None of it was that serious until I met Parker, a man I would end up dating for a very long time. Right before my senior prom, my long-term boyfriend, Parker, and I broke up. I was really sad about it, but I was doing my best to move on and be happy. I found myself gravitating back toward that one guy with the truck; his name was C. M. I hadn’t seen him in a long time and he was older than P, more mature. He still had the same truck, but now I had a car too. I met him at his parent’s house. I left my car there and got in his truck to drive around and catch up just like old times. It was a little different than old times, though. He put his arm around me while he was driving and it was really heavy. It felt uncomfortable and it pulled me off center of the middle seat to where I was constantly pressed against him. I would try to scoot away but he would pull me right back up against him. His eyes were bloodshot. Let me paint a better picture of C.M. C.M wasn’t a 16 year-old, skinny, lanky boy with a brand new driver’s license anymore. He was 20, and he had changed. He weighed about 230 pounds, almost 100 pounds more than me. He was 6’2’’ or 6’3’’. I weighed about 140 pounds, was 5’6’’ and wore a size small shirt. Does this really matter? Maybe not, but it does paint a picture of reality. He told me about girls he had had sex with and how they shaved “down there” and he didn’t like it when it wasn’t smooth. We drove in a big circle and were back to where I had parked my car. He told me he wanted a blow job, I didn’t really want to do it, but I didn’t want to be really lame – He had already called me out for trying to scoot away from him and being “nervous”. What if he also found out I wasn’t smooth down there? What if he told people at my school – he was friends with the “popular kids” in my senior class. But I didn’t get to weigh my options and decide. He shoved my head down really hard and held it there. I was gagging on his penis, I thought I would choke. He did it over and over again, only giving me seconds to breathe in-between. I would try to pull my head up sooner, I needed to breathe, but he held me there until he was ready to give me a break. I started looking for my car keys and a way out, but my eyes were watery and I had no idea where they were. He pushed me back into the passenger seat and turned me over. I was wearing a skirt. He moved my underwear to the side and grabbed my hips with his hands – he was shoving my body forward into the car door, my face was pressed just under the handle. I reached up and tried to open the car door so I would tumble out; it was locked. I had only ever had sex with Parker and he was always so gentle with me – we were each other’s first and only. I didn’t think C.M. would actually try to put his penis all the way in, there was no way it would fit without hurting me and he had to know that. I was wrong. When he shoved his hips forward, I screamed from pain. He stopped. I quickly crawled away from him and started saying “Where are my keys? Where is my phone? I know my dad has called. He will be looking for me.” C.M. took my keys and phone out of his center console – I didn’t put them there. He said “I’m really sorry, you didn’t want me to do that, did you?” I looked at my phone – no missed calls. I said “Yeah, my dad has called me a bunch, I need to go.” We got out of the truck and stood in the grass. He threw up in the grass twice. He then hugged me; he smelled like vomit. He said “I’m really sorry, I’m not a rapist kind of guy.” I said “Never contact me again and I won’t tell anyone ever.” I got in my car and drove home. I called my best friend that knew I was out with C.M. He knew what had happened the moment I called him crying. He said “He raped you, didn’t he?” I cried all night long. The next day, it was sore and itched down there. There was another guy I had been talking to, I didn’t tell him what happened. He was really nice; he was a cowboy. We had sex in his truck the next day. It hurt and burned. I don’t know why I had sex with him, I didn’t really even like him that much more than a friend. But I felt safe and in control in those moments, maybe that’s why. It was a week later that I absolutely had to tell my mother what had happened with C.M. because I was in so much pain, I could barely walk. She completely freaked out, as expected, but she took me to the clinic. I saw a nurse practitioner. She said it looked “pretty bad” down there. I told her I didn’t understand, C.M. had never been like that before. She said that “speed can make people act really strange”. She then tested me for STIs and gave me a magical pill that cleared me of the horrific yeast infection I had within 24 hours. I thought she was amazing and even wrote her a letter thanking her and that I wanted to be a gynecologist or something one day because of her.
"That next week I was in the middle of the football field hosting field day as national honor society president at my private Christian school. My phone rang, It was the lab. They had the results of my STI testing – all negative. I jumped up and down for joy on the field – I could move on, this was all behind me. I was wrong. I was sexually assaulted again by a different guy that my mother forced me to go to prom with named G.T. I told her I didn’t want to go with him, but she said “I needed to be nice”. She didn’t know what he had done and I wasn’t going to tell her. Parker and I started talking again, I word vomited what happened with C.M. and how I had sex with J. (the cowboy), and later a guy named C.D…Parker said “How could you put yourself into that kind of situation?” I hung up. I cried. I tried dating a girl. Parker and I eventually talked again. He apologized and has grown from a boy into a man since he made that heartbreaking comment. He now and knows it is never the victim or survivor’s fault that they were assaulted. He is a good man, a man I have now been married to for 10 years. He supported me through all of my mental health challenges, attempted suicide, and cutting in my youth. But he didn’t know how hurtful his words were at the time. I didn’t know what kind of options I had. We have a son, Marshall. He is 4. We have a daughter, Genova. She is turning 1 next month. They are both going to know before they could ever make that kind of ignorant comment to anyone. They will also probably know more than they want to know about the law, forensic nursing, and resources for survivors because their mom is now a master’s prepared forensic nurse and credentialed sexual assault nurse examiner (SANE) who is now perusing a PhD in Nursing. I am happy to report that I am mentally stable and happy now. It didn’t happen quickly, though. It took time, counseling, and a little bit of pharmacotherapy here and there. I am so happy that I get to sublimate that journey now as a forensic nurse and SANE. Nursing has been a lovely and beautiful turning point and outlet. I have learned patience, forgiveness, and a lot about surviving sexual assault. I have learned how to provide better care than I received. This happened to me 13 years ago, but the sting of it is still there, even when I wrote out all of the details of what happened to me as a teen to send in to you today. I think that is normal; we should never feel comfortable hearing stories of sexual assault whether they are our own, our friends, or that of strangers. My story may seem complicated – it wasn’t a masked man that jumped out of a bush and raped me when I was wearing sweatpants and long sleeves. But it’s not really that complicated - It wasn’t and isn’t and will never be my fault that this happened to me. It was and is and will always be C.M.'s’ fault for doing this to my body. It was and will always be G.T.’s fault for doing this to my body. This story isn’t who I am; it is something that happened to me. I am way more than this story. I am a survivor, but I am also a woman, I am a mother of two children, I am a wife to a loving and supportive husband, I am a proud big sister, daughter, granddaughter, friend, advocate, educator, aggie, and nurse."