My Sexual Assault Story


by Guest Author, Becca Moore

The topic I am going to write about is a very sensitive subject for many people. We have either been effected by it ourselves, or we know someone personally that has experienced such a horrific event in their lives. I SUGGEST THAT IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED EASILY TO PLEASE SKIP READING THIS TOPIC. 

It is a topic many of us have difficulty talking about. But it is my hope that I can reach out to someone who has been effected by sexual assault and let them know they are not alone. Maybe they are working through a particularly hard aspect of what happened to them and I am able to offer them just that little bit of hope that things will get better. Or maybe someone is just starting to work through it and they need to know they are not alone, that there are others’ that have experienced the same kind of fear they are feeling at this time.

I know many people are uncomfortable with this subject. Many don’t want to read what has happened to someone they know and care about. All I can ask you is to be understanding or not to read the subject at all. It is a touchy one, I do understand that and I do not ask anyone to traumatized themselves by reading this.

In November of 92′ a friend’s parents had gone away on vacation. She thought it would be fun to have a little party at her house. She knew a lot of people who could help get us alcohol. Considering that my mother either worked all the time or spent her free time at the bar, I was game. I believe it was around Thanksgiving time and I believe I had just turned 15, not 14 as I initially thought. That truly was a big milestone for me as it was the beginning of the suppressed memories surfacing. My friends’ boyfriend showed on time, but mine didn’t and he did not answer the phone. The guy my friend had called to bring us alcohol was friends’ with my boyfriend and he said he knew where my boyfriend was and he’d take me to him. I did not know this guy very well. He was in his 20′s obviously and a friend of my girlfriend’s and my boyfriend’s, but other than that, I knew very little about him. That was my first mistake…..I agreed to go with a stranger to find my boyfriend.

My thinking was we’d just find him, bring him back to the party and that would be the end of it.

I don’t remember much of the car ride and I can’t say it’s because I was drunk. I only had a few wine coolers’ and although it’s not something I’m particularly proud of, it takes more than a few wine coolers to get me out of my mind drunk, even at the age of 15. We found my boyfriend standing outside of either a bowling ally or skating rink (I can’t remember which and it’s not a vital memory) with another girl, a very pregnant girl. There wasn’t much I could say or do, but I did hop out of the truck to make my presence known. I will never forget the look on my boyfriend’s face when he saw me. This had been my second mistake…..I left my drink behind in the truck, with a stranger. I just stood there staring at my boyfriend and he stared back at me for a while. Knowing I couldn’t do much, I just got back in the truck and said I wanted to go back to my friend’s house.

We started to drive in that direction, I light a cig and took a big sip of my drink, big enough it was almost gone and I wished I had another one. “The Stranger” (as I will call him), said he had to stop at home, it wasn’t too far to pick something up. Being 15 and naive I didn’t really think too much about it. When we got to his home, I said I’d wait in the car, but he insisted I come inside, he’d only be a few minutes, but to be quiet his Mom was home. My thinking (I was 15 remember) was had his mom seen him with a 15-year-old girl she’d probably freak, so I followed him quietly in the house. My third mistake…..

He disappeared and I expected a light to turn on, but one never did. The room was so black I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. Trust me, I tried. I kept backing up and trying to get closer to the door. I guess my instincts started to kick in at this point. My leg hit a table or something and I assume that was enough noise to let him know just where I was. Before I knew what was happening, he had a hold of me and we were falling onto a bed, my head locked between his legs. I couldn’t move or fight for myself. I was trapped and couldn’t go anywhere, believe me, I tried. I kicked my legs but that only assisted him in getting my pants off. I couldn’t scream because my head was being crushed by his thighs and although my arms were free, there wasn’t much I could do against an almost 300 pound man. He most certainly would have laughed and ignored my attempts to defend myself. I could feel my brain getting a heavy, snowed feeling. I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I now know that the date rape drug was available in the early 90′s and this is most likely what was slipped to me in my drink.

There is not much after that, that I remember. I woke up the next morning and dressed quickly. The only words I managed to mumble was I wanted to go back to my friends, which he drove me there and dropped me off on the side of the road.

I didn’t go into my friends. She would have known by the look on my face what had happened and I was ashamed. I walked home instead knowing my Mom would be gone to work already. I remember it was cold, there was snow on the ground and my brain kept feeling like it was popping up against my skull. I could actually hear it happening.

Once I got home, I showered over and over trying to get him off of me. I was ashamed, scared, repulsed, humiliated…..every bit of my innocence and trust was gone. I can remember just trying to get rid of the taste in my mouth and I threw up so many times and just kept brushing my teeth but nothing worked. Finally, I fell asleep, but it wasn’t restful. It was filled with the nightmares I sometimes still experience today.

A few days later I came home to my kitchen table, counters, stove and even some tables in the living room covered in roses. I thought they were roses from my Mom’s boyfriend as he had a habit of doing stuff like that. But they were roses from “the stranger”. I don’t know if he was trying to apologize in some sick way or if that was his way of saying “Go ahead blame me! They will never believe you! I sent you roses!” Either way… creeped me out and haunted me for years. Sometimes it still does.

I never actually knew what happened after I passed out. But after working through this while I was inpatient, I remembered the bruises on my wrists and the bruise on my thigh. I remembered the way I “felt” physically, emotionally and mentally afterwards and that was enough for me to KNOW for sure what happened without actually having the image in my head.

As you can see, I pointed out a bunch of mistakes I made a long the way. For years I blamed myself for what had happened to me. I always said I should have known better. But truthfully, it never was my fault. No, I shouldn’t have gotten in the car with a 20 something year old male stranger….but I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR BEING RAPED! That is all on him. My only regret now is that I should have told someone all those years ago and he should have been serving his time instead of me being the only one to serve time. Either way, I would have suffered, but justice would have been served and he would have went to jail. Once I got in that car, I’m not responsible for the way he acted and the choices he made. Had this happened to one of my daughter’s I would have never blamed them for what the outcome was. I would have been there for some, been compassionate, showed them love and care, just like I need to do for myself.

I still have difficulty and I do still have flashbacks. I know people who know this person personally and I keep myself on high guard knowing that. 36-year-old me has herself much more protected than 15-year-old me had herself. That post is for another time!

What helped me the most was writing a letter to myself forgiving myself for the mistakes I made when I was 15 years old. When I read that letter back and thought of myself as a child, it helped me to sympathize with myself instead of blaming myself.

If you have been through something traumatic maybe you could try this as well. There are many support groups out there that deal with sexual assault (I’m working on joining one now). There’s also workbooks out there to help as well.

If you know someone who has been through something like this, the best thing you can do is be there for them. Support them and let them know they can always lean on you. Sometimes words aren’t enough, it’s your actions they need the most.


Becca Moore is a 36 year old bipolar mom of 7 children, who authored the books "Moorestorms A Guide for the Bipolar Parent", "Moorestorms Bipolar Warning Signs" and releasing soon "Moorestorms The Storms of a Bipolar Marriage".  She is married to her high school sweetheart Dan, who helped her co-author her last book. As you can see writing is her passion, and she has run her own blog at Moorestorms for the past 3 years. Becca and her husband have lived in Pennsylvania with their 7 children their entire lives and couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

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