I thought about messaging you both many times. But every time I put the words down, I end up deleting them because I know neither of you care. Neither of you will ever admit or accept that what you did to me was rape. I chose not to write separate letters because even though they both happened years apart, the end result was the same. You both killed a part of me that I will never be able to get back or fully recover from. I’m not going to go on and on about how what you both did destroyed me. You probably do not care. Neither one of you even knows or understands that you are rapists because society and the cops who handled my reports said you were not rapists. Society tells you both as men that you are entitled to women’s minds, bodies and to our entire being. Society tells women that we do not matter and that we are not people.

The honest truth is, you were not entitled to my body. I did not ask to be touched. I said stop. I’m entitled to say no, no matter how far into sex I go. I was too drunk to consent. I did not agree to go to the car. You had no right to go that far.

You were not entitled to my mind. I don’t want the reoccurring thoughts, nightmares and flashbacks. I do not want to hear my screams play over and over in my head. I do not want the memories. You should have them. I do not deserve to be punished.

You do not own me as a person. I do not want to constantly feel like a victim. I do not want to hold the shame of having my privacy being taken over. I do not want the shame of my body and mind being poisoned.

You do not own women. I am reminding you of this because you raped once and I know you’ll do it again. You both got away with it once, but I pray every day that you get caught the next time you try. You’ll never own me; I tell my story without shame. I say both of your names when I tell my stories. I’m not afraid of defamation or slander lawsuits. I know what happened, I know the truth. I say your name so other women know to stay away from you. I say your name so maybe someone who knows you can finally piece together the wastes of space the two of you are. I tell my story so maybe I can help other survivors heal, and feel less alone.

I didn’t want to tell you all the ways the rapes hurt me because I feel like that’s letting the two of you win. Instead, I’m going to tell you about the good. I recovered from what you broke. It was slow and hard, but I overcame and I continue to overcome.

I learned how to love myself, even the parts that won’t ever be fully be fixed. I learned how to work through the bouts of depression and anxiety and the PTSD flare-ups. I learned how to love others in a healthier way, and how to accept love from others that is healthy. Most importantly I learned how to control and stop my suicidal thoughts. I don’t want to be dead anymore. I have so many amazing things ahead of me - moving in with my boyfriend, seeing my little sister graduate high school and college, graduating beauty school, getting engaged, getting my cosmetology license, getting married, opening a salon, having kids, growing old with my best friend. All of that I could have given up because two animals took advantage of me. I get to move on with my life and be happy.

What about the two of you? How are you going to look the woman you’re going to marry in the eyes and never once think of the time you raped a girl? Are you going to tell her about the time you didn’t stop when I asked a million times, or that you forced a girl who was black out drunk into the car and had your way? How are you going to look your daughter in the eyes and not feel like an animal for something you did to me that could so easily happen to her?

I can never forgive either of you for what you did to me. Rape is such a horrible ordeal that I wouldn’t even wish it on the two of you. I just pray that somewhere, somehow that you both get the karma that you are so overdue for.

I survived, and I’ll keep surviving.

Sincerely,

A Victor, Not A Victim