I'm not quite sure how to go about this, so I'll just tell how it is. Hopefully, someone can give me a bit of useful insight... I would highly appreciate it. I am a 17-year-old female who (near the time of the assault) was living in Florida to take college courses while I completed my high school diploma, receiving monetary support from my mother who lives overseas.
About a month ago, on the evening of November 14th, I had just gotten home from a class, fed my cats, and had finished making pasta. I was watching a UFC fight on television when I was interrupted by a knock on the door. There were two young men (aged 19 and 20) whom I had met at a party before through a good friend, and had only known for about a week. I wasn't expecting any company, but I let them in anyway, offering them some food and a place to sit to watch television.
I became offended when they began to make suggestive nuances to the side as I was cleaning out the kitty litter box, so I vehemently told them I am a lesbian and that I would kick them out if they continued to bother me about it. They told me I was being "bitchy" and that I needed to chill out, so they held out what they called a Xanax and told me to take it. I am prescribed antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication for an existing condition, so I took it, thinking perhaps I was behaving irrationally.
A female friend of mine sent me a text message asking to come over, so they got excited and set out to acquire alcohol and marijuana. When she arrived with her male DD friend in tow, the sexist remarks that the two young men had been making about her died down. Even still-- combined with the drugs in their system blurring their boundaries, perhaps-- they continued attempting to engage in conversation with me that was very uncomfortable, despite my (and my friends') assertions that I am a lesbian and thus uninterested in males.
After a few hours of listening to music and talking, my female friend and her companion decided to go home. I made hints to the two boys that I was also going to call it a night since I had planned on going to church in the morning, but truthfully I was a bit rattled by their sexually aggressive jokes and banter. Knowing I was drunk, and feeling very strange, I sat on my bed and must've blacked out. The next thing I remember is that the lights in my apartment were off (save the blue glow of the TV screen), that the two were sitting by either side of me on the bed, and that I was in the middle of getting up, saying "F*** you" and "I could f***ing press charges for that," amongst other things, before feeling faint and blacking out again.
I had drawn the outline of a star on my stomach previously that night (like a Star-Bellied Sneetch in the Dr. Seuss book) and came back to consciousness lying on my bed inbetween the two, with my shirt pulled up and one of the guys coloring the shape in with a Sharpie, insisting he should do it. My state of inebriation rendered me pretty much incapable to do anything but say "Dude, no" and "Stop it" continuously, but I didn't bother protesting after he held me down and continued to draw despite my protests. He started kissing all over my stomach before I said "Quit" and I blacked out again.
When I awoke, I was in the same place and the two were telling me to kiss them. As each came closer, I gave a drunken jab to one's eye and a kick to the other's chest to get him off of me. The rest is too detailed to enclose here, but all-in-all, I woke up naked the next morning with a condom strewn across my bedsheet, house a mess, cats freaked out and hiding under the bed, and horrible pain below the waist. I called someone I trusted to take me to the emergency room, put back on the clothes I was assaulted in, and (putting aside the shock and general disoriented state this kind of procedure brings) received low-grade care at the hospital during the rape kit and examination. The cops were just fine with the procedures when I made my statement, and gave me plenty of space when the examiner finally came in.
The examination report from this hospital was faxed to me upon request a month later, and the results found "no irregularities" in the genital region. For the pain, I was instructed to take Motrin or Advil. The report stated I tested positive for Chlamydia, but the hospital never called or emailed to inform me of that information.
My aunt (a paralegal, and my geographically closest family member at the time) drove from Georgia to be my advocate at the police station when I gave another statement, and to pick me up along with my belongings, then take me back to Atlanta (where I would meet my mother, who was currently en route from overseas). The pains "down there" were bad enough that it hurt whenever I sat down, much less every time went to the bathroom. Because of my constant remarks (okay-- whining) about the pain, I was then taken to the hospital there and the doctor noticed significant tears and fissures in both vaginal and rectal areas. I was prescribed a strong painkiller along with many antibiotics and given a shot to hopefully prevent contraction of disease. With this hospital, I tested negative for chlamydia, but they called me later that week to tell me that I was positive for genital herpes. I thank God I did not become pregnant.
Aside from cold sores, I have been regularly tested and never have contracted anything before. The psychological impact of having an incurable lifelong disease as a permanent reminder of the disgusting things done to you (when you were incapable of even standing up) is incomprehensible. I moved back in with my mother in Japan, leaving college and putting off going to university until the fall. I haven't even worn skirts or shaved my legs since the incident, I'm frightened to death whenever I shower or change clothes, and the nightmares continue every night. I've grown paranoid to the point of always wearing a rape whistle and a faux wedding band, and almost never go out alone.
Putting that aside, the detective working my case has sent an email to my mother that "Although I have no doubt [she] was sexually assaulted, [her] statement is the only thing that supports her claim." Although one of the guys is currently facing other unrelated felony charges, the other has none pending, and both are out freely roaming the streets, most likely searching for their next victim. To think of all the what-if's and should-have's from the whole ordeal still makes me sick with guilt, and I know I made terrible judgments that night. So... I drank; that is illegal. I took an illegal substance. That is illegal. I was sodomized while unconscious, among many other things. Is that "okay" for two men to do because of the choices I made that night?
What can I possibly do to acheive my main goal of getting them incarcerated so they are prevented from taking advantage of another girl?
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and for any help you might have to offer regarding this problem.
About a month ago, on the evening of November 14th, I had just gotten home from a class, fed my cats, and had finished making pasta. I was watching a UFC fight on television when I was interrupted by a knock on the door. There were two young men (aged 19 and 20) whom I had met at a party before through a good friend, and had only known for about a week. I wasn't expecting any company, but I let them in anyway, offering them some food and a place to sit to watch television.
I became offended when they began to make suggestive nuances to the side as I was cleaning out the kitty litter box, so I vehemently told them I am a lesbian and that I would kick them out if they continued to bother me about it. They told me I was being "bitchy" and that I needed to chill out, so they held out what they called a Xanax and told me to take it. I am prescribed antidepressant/anti-anxiety medication for an existing condition, so I took it, thinking perhaps I was behaving irrationally.
A female friend of mine sent me a text message asking to come over, so they got excited and set out to acquire alcohol and marijuana. When she arrived with her male DD friend in tow, the sexist remarks that the two young men had been making about her died down. Even still-- combined with the drugs in their system blurring their boundaries, perhaps-- they continued attempting to engage in conversation with me that was very uncomfortable, despite my (and my friends') assertions that I am a lesbian and thus uninterested in males.
After a few hours of listening to music and talking, my female friend and her companion decided to go home. I made hints to the two boys that I was also going to call it a night since I had planned on going to church in the morning, but truthfully I was a bit rattled by their sexually aggressive jokes and banter. Knowing I was drunk, and feeling very strange, I sat on my bed and must've blacked out. The next thing I remember is that the lights in my apartment were off (save the blue glow of the TV screen), that the two were sitting by either side of me on the bed, and that I was in the middle of getting up, saying "F*** you" and "I could f***ing press charges for that," amongst other things, before feeling faint and blacking out again.
I had drawn the outline of a star on my stomach previously that night (like a Star-Bellied Sneetch in the Dr. Seuss book) and came back to consciousness lying on my bed inbetween the two, with my shirt pulled up and one of the guys coloring the shape in with a Sharpie, insisting he should do it. My state of inebriation rendered me pretty much incapable to do anything but say "Dude, no" and "Stop it" continuously, but I didn't bother protesting after he held me down and continued to draw despite my protests. He started kissing all over my stomach before I said "Quit" and I blacked out again.
When I awoke, I was in the same place and the two were telling me to kiss them. As each came closer, I gave a drunken jab to one's eye and a kick to the other's chest to get him off of me. The rest is too detailed to enclose here, but all-in-all, I woke up naked the next morning with a condom strewn across my bedsheet, house a mess, cats freaked out and hiding under the bed, and horrible pain below the waist. I called someone I trusted to take me to the emergency room, put back on the clothes I was assaulted in, and (putting aside the shock and general disoriented state this kind of procedure brings) received low-grade care at the hospital during the rape kit and examination. The cops were just fine with the procedures when I made my statement, and gave me plenty of space when the examiner finally came in.
The examination report from this hospital was faxed to me upon request a month later, and the results found "no irregularities" in the genital region. For the pain, I was instructed to take Motrin or Advil. The report stated I tested positive for Chlamydia, but the hospital never called or emailed to inform me of that information.
My aunt (a paralegal, and my geographically closest family member at the time) drove from Georgia to be my advocate at the police station when I gave another statement, and to pick me up along with my belongings, then take me back to Atlanta (where I would meet my mother, who was currently en route from overseas). The pains "down there" were bad enough that it hurt whenever I sat down, much less every time went to the bathroom. Because of my constant remarks (okay-- whining) about the pain, I was then taken to the hospital there and the doctor noticed significant tears and fissures in both vaginal and rectal areas. I was prescribed a strong painkiller along with many antibiotics and given a shot to hopefully prevent contraction of disease. With this hospital, I tested negative for chlamydia, but they called me later that week to tell me that I was positive for genital herpes. I thank God I did not become pregnant.
Aside from cold sores, I have been regularly tested and never have contracted anything before. The psychological impact of having an incurable lifelong disease as a permanent reminder of the disgusting things done to you (when you were incapable of even standing up) is incomprehensible. I moved back in with my mother in Japan, leaving college and putting off going to university until the fall. I haven't even worn skirts or shaved my legs since the incident, I'm frightened to death whenever I shower or change clothes, and the nightmares continue every night. I've grown paranoid to the point of always wearing a rape whistle and a faux wedding band, and almost never go out alone.
Putting that aside, the detective working my case has sent an email to my mother that "Although I have no doubt [she] was sexually assaulted, [her] statement is the only thing that supports her claim." Although one of the guys is currently facing other unrelated felony charges, the other has none pending, and both are out freely roaming the streets, most likely searching for their next victim. To think of all the what-if's and should-have's from the whole ordeal still makes me sick with guilt, and I know I made terrible judgments that night. So... I drank; that is illegal. I took an illegal substance. That is illegal. I was sodomized while unconscious, among many other things. Is that "okay" for two men to do because of the choices I made that night?
What can I possibly do to acheive my main goal of getting them incarcerated so they are prevented from taking advantage of another girl?
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and for any help you might have to offer regarding this problem.
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