Dual Personality

Somewhere out there, there are people who see me every day. They know me. I mean, really. They know I love Dexter, Scrubs, NCIS, CSI: Miami. They know I have a dog that barks too much and jumps too much. They know that I'm a writer and that I love to sing, but I can't hit all the notes.

Some of them know that I had some bad experiences. A lot of them know that I was promiscuous before I met my husband. Almost all of them know that I take medications for depression. Some know that it's bipolar with more downswings than upswings. Some know that I have issues with rage.

But none of them understand how my mind makes me live in some of those dark places.

Maybe maybe some of them could handle it if I told them about the rape, but most would blame me for getting myself into the situation, or wouldn't understand why I didn't press charges.

I was alone, more alone than I can explain. I was living alone in what basically amounted to a construction area. My boyfriend had dumped me. He was one of those guys who you just can't get enough of. I was insanely in love with him. But he dumped me. And I was alone. Doggie (not a very original name for a dog, I admit) had just showed up in my life, and Doggie was pretty much all I had. I was in college, but I hated classes. I had lost a semester the previous year because of my depression, so I was retaking courses I had no interest in.

And then D.S. showed up. He was a neighbor. He was single. He was older than I was, and he had a dog. He was smooth enough to fool me. I was twenty, but in some ways, I was as naive as I'd been at ten. He started by 'helping me' with the dog. He let our dogs play together, and he told me how he knew all about dog training (later on, I found out exactly how much he knew about dog training when he slammed his dog against a brick wall).

He sat on the hammock, which was pretty much the only thing that made the yard look inhabited. There wasn't even grass yet. (Like I said, it was basically a construction site. There were three people living on the street at that point).

I don't know how he made it happen. He said he could teach me, and I wanted to show that I was an adult. I said, "like what?" and then I kissed him.

We kissed for a while, and then he told me we could go to his place. We went there, and right away, he pushed me into his bed, but I figured I was dressed so that was ok.

Then his hands were on my breasts and I told him I wasn't ready. He told me not to be a baby. He asked me if I'd done it before. I didn't lie. I had. He told me that it's not a big deal. It could be our secret. We'd be friends. He'd take care of me.

I wanted him to use a condom, but he said he didn't have any, so he'd just withdraw. I wasn't sure, but he kept telling me that this is how it works when you're an adult, so I was kinda okay with it. He withdrew like he said, and I asked if I could spend the night. He said no, and that he had to be up early in the morning.

In the morning, I rang his doorbell early. I knew he was home. His car was in the driveway. He didn't come to the door. Later, I bought condoms, and I left a pack in his mailbox, wrapped as a gift. He didn't respond to me. I waited for him, but I didn't see when he left or came back.

I went to his house the next day, when I knew he was home. The condoms were gone from the mailbox. I rang the bell again and again. I felt cheated.

He called me later and yelled at me that I was bugging him. I started crying on the phone, and he said what basically amounted to "will you be good now?" to which I said yes, and then he told me to come over. When I got there, the door was unlocked, and he was in the shower. I went in there, and he started yelling at me. He made me lean over the sink, and he sodomized me. I cried, but I didn't try to stop him. Then he made me get into the shower with him, and he penetrated me as I leaned on the wall. He told me to tell him that I loved him, that I needed him. And then he yelled at me more.

Then he told me to get dressed and get out.

Another time, he told me he wanted to make up with me. He pushed me to have sex with him again. I didn't know anything. I just knew that I wanted to stop hurting, and he kept promising he'd make things ok for me.

You see. I couldn't go to the police. Sure I feel raped, but legally, he didn't rape me. I went to his house willingly. I didn't scream. I didn't fight back. I wasn't under threat. There was no time when he physically prevented me from leaving.

I'm sure that if anyone out there reads this, they'll think I was a total idiot for going up there to begin with. I think it too. But I did. And he used my stupidity to hurt me.