Before I begin this article, I just want to throw this out there: I do not talk about this very often. No, this is not for attention. To my family, I'm sorry this is how you are all hearing about this for the first time and it's through a public article.

Let's bring it back to 2009 (that was eight years ago BTW). I had been familiar with online dating websites such as myyearbook.com (Now known as meetme.com), OkCupid, and Plenty Of Fish. I was always the girl who got made fun of for her looks, how she acted, what she talked about, and what she did. I ended up finding comfort and acceptance from online strangers. Sooner than later they would become friends, some would become a "love" interest. Notice how I put quotations on the word love, I thought I knew what it was back then, silly me.

One person I had met in real life though, he was a guy named Larry. He was sweet, kind and always made sure I was okay. Unfortunately, though, he was not okay himself. It's so hard to remember what exact month I had met him, but during that summer, we started seeing each other in person. He had only lived on the other side of town, so he would walk to my side of town to see me. I remember being grounded for two months because I had taken the dog out for a walk... For two hours... My mother started putting her foot down with this problem by making me put my phone on the charger in the kitchen, and somehow being able to see who I text without looking at my phone. She would yell at me for texting Larry, followed by snatching my phone and losing all contact with him for the day.

Ever heard the phrase, "Strict parents create sneaky children"? In my instance, it's true. The more strict my parents were about Larry, the more sneaky I became with finding ways to talk to him. I had a Razor cellphone (#TBT) hidden in my drawers, and when the time came to put my cellphone charging in the kitchen, I would take the SIM card out and put it into the Razor. Therefore, I would be able to still text him, even when I should not have been. I changed his name in my actual phone so when my mom was around, I would be texting "Laura" and not "Larry." You would be surprised how much you realize your mother was right later on in life...

Fast forward a little bit to October 2010. I was about two months into being a high school freshman. I was still talking to Larry, as well as going through other problems such as, developing depression and feeling scared at school due to situations that had already occurred. Larry had told me a month before that he was going to be moving to New York. I was saddened and was not sure what to do with myself. This was the first person I had given everything to, effort, love and all. The day in October when he moved, my bus from school was driving past his house and I waved good-bye to him as he was helping his parents pack up the UHaul. It was a cute, sappy love story good-bye. Until another kid on the bus gave him the finger and he gave it back...

Once he had moved to New York, I began to lose contact with him. Sooner after, all contact just ended. He wasn't answering text messages or phone calls. I was confused, why would he do this to me? He was always telling me how beautiful I was, how nice I was, and how much he even loved me. My depression had gotten worse. I felt as if my life had truly ended and I was not worthy of love. That's when the cutting and suicide attempts began. I started coping with my depression by inflicting pain on my wrists and thinking of ways to end my life. Later on in high school, it became a problem and I was almost hospitalized. Now, Larry disappearing wasn't the only reason I was cutting. I was cutting because I was still being made fun of for my size, how I dressed and who I liked. It wasn't very long before rumors started going around that I was easy. People would make up stories that would have nowhere near even happened.

Now, between October 2010 and July 2014, Larry would come back for a bit, and then disappear again. I had then found out why he left. He was still depressed over his ex-girlfriend. The girl he dated back in 2008. I was furious. I thought something was seriously wrong with him or he was too busy taking care of his own things. At one point, he was in Colorado all by himself. He thought he needed a fresh start. I don't know about you, but a fresh start to me is not getting drunk and high almost every day of the week and tattooing nonsense on yourself. Yes, a friend he made down there was a tattoo artist and would let him tattoo himself. He had literal random lines on his hands and fingers, and yet I still felt that love I felt for him back in 2009.

Jumping to June 2014, Larry came back into my life as I had just graduated high school. He told me how sorry he was for not keeping in contact so much and that he would be in Watertown the next month to see family. I was excited. I had not seen him in four long years. I had gone through so many things that made me feel like life wasn't worth living, yet this news gave me such life and made me ecstatic! July came... I was home for the weekend from the SBA program at Salem State and my boyfriend, David, and I had just broken up after dating for three months.

I contacted Larry to see if he was free and he was. We planned to meet at his sister's house and go out for dinner. So we did just that. I drove to the house, we took his car and went to Friendly's (aka my favorite restaurant). I'm not sure how it came about, but we started talking about sex and how he wanted to be my first and all that crap. We were driving around talking about it when all of the sudden he pulls into an empty parking lot behind a building. I didn't think anything of it at all. To me, we were just talking about what's been going on since he moved. But to him, this was when he decided he would attack...

After we had been talking for about ten minutes parked in the lot in God knows what town, he starts touching me everywhere, even though I had kept telling him I didn't want to do anything with him that night. The more I kept pushing his hands away, the more he forced them onto me. I continued saying no to him and to slap his hands away from me. Then, I don't know how he did it, but he threw himself across the console and began to forcibly pull my pants down. He had me sort of trapped with his upper body holding me down. I kept yelling at him to stop and he just wouldn't. He kept saying how he's been waiting so long for this and all I could think was "this is all my fault."

As it was happening, I kept hitting his back, trying to reach for the steering wheel so I could honk the horn to let people know something was going on, but I couldn't. Never did I think somebody could hold down my whole entire body with theirs. I was shaking and practically crying. Why me? Why after how nice you were to me? What did I do to deserve this? After he finished he drove me back to my car at his sister's house. You're probably wondering, "Why the f*** did you stay in the car with him after that?!" Answer: I don't know. I was just so scared and ruined. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know where I was. After we parted ways, I blocked him on all social media that I could find him on and blocked his number. I felt as if I truly had hit rock bottom.

For a few weeks, I wasn't motivated to do anything or even leave my house. I was terrified to see him again. I couldn't believe what happened either. I can't believe I let it happen. I never thought it would. As crazy as it sounds, I got into a year and a half relationship with some guy two months after that horrible night. He was the first person I told. I thought he would be disgusted with me, but he wasn't. Being judged for what happened is the reason why I never told anyone about it. All my life I have been judged, why add on more material? My depression had grown worse, trust issues were definitely a thing, and I ended up developing borderline personality disorder.

My family thinks I'm absolutely nuts for believing the doctors when they diagnosed me, but truth of the matter is, it's who I am now. They think I'm nuts because they don't know that this has happened to me. To any family members reading this, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. This is the first time a large amount of people are going to even know. It's been almost three years since I've been raped and I could never talk about it before without shaking and crying. Here I am now, writing an article about how it changed me.

It changed my life. Some good ways, some bad. Mostly bad. Sometimes I still have nightmares about it. I may not have put in much detailing into the part where I write how it happened, but that's because I've been trying to make myself forget. Having almost been raped twice since I've been at Merrimack (one a student here, one not) doesn't help my situation either. Although I am glad I was able to get out of those situations. Over the years I've learned what I can do to stop it from happening, and I am proud of myself for that.

"Well, why didn't you ever call the police?" When I got raped? Because I have no idea where he is now. I didn't even know where he was when he left Watertown after that weekend. With the attempted rapists? Because I didn't even know or could really see the first guy who tried to rape me at Merrimack. And the other guy I don't even remember his name because I was drunk. I never called the police because with stories I've read about girls who have killed themselves, was because nobody believed they were really raped, not even the police.

To anyone who is reading this that has been raped and stayed quiet about it, you are not alone. I am here for all of you.

If you or a loved one has been raped or has been thinking about suicide because they have been raped/sexually assaulted, please contact these numbers: National Sexual Assault Hotline- 1-800-656-4673 (You can also confidentially chat with them online) and the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline- 1-800-273-8255 (Also available to confidentially chat with).

Both of these numbers are up and running 24/7, so please take advantage. Too many lives have been ruined and lost because of horrible situations such as rape. You are loved, you will get through this, I promise.