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Summer Survivor

My sexual assault story and journey to healing.

By Kacey BakerPublished 3 years ago 21 min read
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***TRIGGER WARNING. MENTION OF SE*UAL AS*AULT IN THIS STORY.

Sweet summer. For most people my age, summer is a breath of fresh air. A break from the eight hour school day, A break from homework, mean teachers and the early mornings. I remember thinking to myself, "This is going to be the best summer yet". It'll be full of fun, parties and adventure. The summer ended up being the worst of my life.

The year is 2014. I had just finished my freshman year of high school. I had two amazing best friends *Becca and *Sarah. We had so much planned for us this summer. We were all equally crazy, party-driven, ignorant fifteen year old girls. You probably remember being in your teen years, the feeling of being invincible and nothing in the world truly mattered. Most people this age didn't have jobs and most people this age, especially from our town, partied. I had known Sarah since the fourth grade, we were always very close and she was a great friend! I met Becca in ninth grade but we became close very quickly. The three of us were inseperable.

The beginning of summer, more like the entire month of June was so much fun. We spent our daytime outside at the pool, four wheeling, etc. The night time wasn't so innocent. We spent our time drinking, smoking, hanging out with older boys and having sex. I had lost my virginity earlier in the year and it was mediocre at best but mostly everyone my age was having sex and I really wanted to fit in. Anyways, I was really enjoying my summer with my friends. Then the first unfortunate event happened which I broke my arm on a four wheeler. I was in a huge, neon pink arm cast. I can't get it wet and on top of everything else it was my right hand, my dominant hand. I was refusing to let this break my spirit so i continued partying and having fun even in a giant arm cast that I was told I had to keep elevated.

Everything was as I imagined it! Minus a minor hiccup, it was the fun summer I was looking for. July was slowly creeping up on us and in early July it is Becca's birthday. I practically lived at her house in the summer so I wanted to throw her an epic birthday party. Where could I throw a party filled with underage drinking, idiot teenagers, and no parents without getting the police called? Easy, Becca's house. Her house was huge and in BFE (bum fuck egypt) or in non-country terms, the middle of no where. So, the planning started. We had another friend v ery close to us named *Jared. He wanted to help because he loved parties too and he was in our circle, as well. We started planning this huge party with all sorts of decorations. We got black lights, balloons, etc. Conviently enough, her parents were going to be out of town that weekend we planned the party. Everything was coming together.

The morning of the party, we had stayed at my house. My parents are pretty strict so we had to find a ride to Becca's house and of course, as teenagers do, lie to my parents. We found a ride and we were on the way to her house. After a thirty minute car ride, we arrived. We set everything up, cleaned the house and soon enough our friends started getting there. Sarah showed up with her friend *Polly, who moved out of state and was visiting for the summer. A few more girls showed up on top of Becca's boyfriend, *Travis and his group of friends. The girls were upstairs getting ready which consists of going through a ton of outfits, applying makeup and doing our hair. Usually an easy task, but not for someone with one working arm. The boys were downstairs on Becca's brother's dirtbike, goofing off. After what feels like forever we are all finally done getting ready. It's time to pre-game. Which if you search engine Urbandictonary.com it will define it for you as follows: "To drink alcoholic beverages prior to a social engagement to make it more enjoyable." Exactly what we were trying to do.

I remember pouring a drink with vodka and juice mixed in quite a big cup. Now, this next detail is something a lot of teenagers do. Looking back on it, do I wish i acted this way? NO. I acted a lot drunker than I actually was to appear cool. Which granted I was a lightweight to a degree but not to the extent I was acting. There were older boys there and to be honest, I wanted to impress them. I had that same drink with me for quite awhile, sipping on it. I'm usually a big drinker, but for some reason I didn't drink much at this particular party. I had began, in the previous months, dabbling with marijuana more than alcohol. I really enjoyed the calming and overall mood-booster that marijuana gave me. Drinking and smoking together was something I was used to doing as well and had never effected me negatively before.

Nightfall creeped up on us. The sun was setting and more people were showing up, quickly. People were bringing more alcohol, marijuana and no telling what else to this party. We began blasting music, hanging out and partying. My friends arrived who were the "potheads" I was excited because the guy I really liked, *Joseph, was the one who brought pretty much all the weed. I got in his car along with four other people and we hotboxed. Urban dictonary time!! Hotbox: "A hotbox is an air-tight room or vehicle that contains one or more pot-smokers smoking one or more joints. The exhaled smoke and the smoke coming from the joint, unable to escape, circulates and thus is breathed in and is not wasted. Smokers in a hotbox may find themselves totally fucked beyond the point of speech after about 30 minutes. Hotboxing is an event that requires some amount of planning, but ensures optimal weed usage." Something I have done a lot before. We smoked and I got out of the car once we were done. I remember walking up to the house, feeling fine. Still having my drink with me. Becca's house was set up to where there is a bathroom in the kitchen. I'm not sure why, but I had to use the bathroom. So, i remember sitting my drink on the island in her kitchen and using the bathroom. Side note, the way her kitchen was set up was there was the back sliding doors that go to the backyard. To the left, the bathroom was there and to the right was the door to the garage. Pretty easy for someone to go into the kitchen and hurry to the garage. This detail plays a factor later. I get out of the bathroom after while because of my debilitating cast. I grab my drink off the counter, and go to the garage looking for the birthday girl, Becca.

Her birthday was actually on Sunday, but the party was Saturday night. Anyways, I find Becca, Sarah, Polly, Jared and some more people in the garage. On top of everyone in the garage, the person I couldn't stand the most in the world was in there. *Greg. Greg and I mutually disliked eachother. I rolled my eyes at the mere sight of his face. I joined in my friends conversation when I began to feel a bit off. At this point, I just felt a little woozy. A bit more drunk than I usually did off of just one drink. I came back in the house and that is when things started getting fuzzy and unfortunately after this long, I still don't remember all the details. The next thing I can remember is me going into the main front entry way. There was a beerpong table set up and people were playing. I wanted to play and I remember drinking a bottled beer. Which for me is strange, I hate beer. I remember telling everyone I wanted to play the next game. I sat on the stairs waiting my turn. My turn never came because apparently I slumped over on the stairs and wasn't responding to people. That's what people told me when I tried getting details on the events that took place.

My next memory is me being on the couch surrounded by several people SCREAMING my name. Apparently, they had been doing this for a while. I was sitting there, eyes open and not hearing them. I do not remember this at all. I just remember opening my eyes seeing faces yelling at me. Instead of being startled i quietly mumbled to them "what". I'm not sure if you reading this have ever been drunk or high but from my experience in these recreational activities, this has never, ever happened to me. I was helped up and my next memory was being in the kitchen slumped over my cast and some drunk guy running past me yelling at me to take another shot. Then i fell back over and back to sleep, or unconsciousness I went. After this I remember being helped around by a friend of mine named *Noah. He helped me around and was trying to help me go to bed. At this point is what I recall me thinking someone had a gun at the party. Someone had gotten too drunk, began breaking shit and got asked to leave. He was very mad and apparently my disorentated self believed there was a gun. I got scared. Noah assured me there wasn't any weapons at the party and he helped me upstairs. We went up to Becca's room and he helped me lay down. Like a gentleman, he helped me and then left the room. Joseph came in to tell me bye and I remember asking him to stay but I think he was aggravated that I was so "messed up". He left and there I was, all alone.

I promptly passed out and the next memory I have is waking up to someone in the bed next to me. His name was *Nate and I was so in and out i'm guessing he got fed up with me and left the room. Was it wrong of him to try anything with someone so fucked up? Yes, of course. However, he did leave. My next memory was something I wish I didn't remember like majority of the night. I apologize in advance for anything that seems choppy with the timeline. I was very, very in and out at this point. Also, TRIGGER WARNING**** Mentions of se*ual as*ault follow this statement.

I was awoken to the feeling of someone's cold, unwanted touch. I was so in and out that I still thought Nate was there. Then it hit me, Nate was on the left side of me and this body was on the right side. I blinked, for what felt like a thousand times and finally my cloudy vision cleared a bit and I see the undenaiable sight of, did you guess? Greg.

I looked down, still blinking. I notice my pants are unbottoned and my top is up. My breasts are exposed. I am so confused. I asked him quitely, stuttering. "Did..did..we.. do anything". He utters back in the most disgusting and cold-hearted tone, "not yet". He then proceeded to climb on top of me. Back out went the lights in my head for a while. I don't know how long. I don't know how he managed to get my clothes off my body which was pure dead weight because I was practically dead. I awoke again so groggy and out of it to feeling him thrusting in and out of me. Did he care that I wasn't into it? No. Did he care that I was unconsious? No. I tried so hard. I tried to push him off of me with my weak left arm. Instead of feeling him get off like I thought he would, I felt him push harder. He ignored me resisting him and trying to get him off of me. I panicked. This isn't someone just trying to push their limits anymore. No, this is someone blatantly disregarding my boundaries and my attempts to stop. The memory I left with and stayed with me was the feeling of trying to get someone out of me and them pushing back. I was in shock at this point. I kept whispering no, i don't want to, you're dating my friend *Ally, please stop. All of which, were ignored. He kept going, and going.

Somehow, my cries of no and even him ignoring me, the word rape didn't cross my mind. It wasn't like the shows and movies portrayed it. It wasn't a stranger in a dark alley or someone holding me at gun point. It was someone I hated taking advantage of my state of mind. I was also fifteen and didn't know these things yet. My next memory was Becca coming in the room. I was so happy to see her. I wanted to scream help at the top of my lungs but I felt like i was in a dream. I opened my mouth and couldn't get the words out. Surely though my best friend would see me under the grip of someone I hated fucking me without permission, right? I mean she saw how fucked up I was all night long. Wrong. She paused, looked shocked even. That was the moment I was thinking she would help me. Instead, she laughed. Said "Ooops. SORRY" and left. My best friend. Someone I looked at like a sister, left me. Left me to suffer, left him to continue raping me. I was alert after that, not fully, but enough to remember. Not enough to stop it. I guess after while though, I got enough strength or maybe he finished and I was able to get to my phone. He got off me and I was scared. I texted the first guy that came to mind, my friend Jared. He'd help me. I texted, "Help. Becca's room" Something along those lines. Greg was in the middle of her room while I laid paralyzed, still naked. He said to me, "Oh well, at least I got what I wanted".

He was getting dressed as a girl walked in the room and got me out of there. She looked at me and then him and said, "Oh honey". Which I assume she thought it was a drunken mistake. I then remember being in Becca's brother's room with the girl and Jared. I needed sleep though. I woke up and felt dirty and used. My vagina hurt and stung when I used the bathroom. I'm assuming from him forcing himself inside me. More than likely without a condom. I went to the bathroom and couldn't look at myself. Something felt wrong. I went downstairs and began asking for details of what the fuck happened last night. Everyone said I was so fucked up. Becca was annoyed with me for missing the singing of her happy birthday. I started putting together pieces of the puzzle from other people's accounts of the evening and the small memories I had. Still, at this point, rape didn't cross my mind. I began telling people I remember Greg in the room with me and that I kept saying no. Every single one of my friends and people I told looked me dead in the eyes and denied this from happening. The term now is, they gaslighted me. I knew this happened and every person said, no it didn't. I began feeling crazy. They told me I was too fucked up and if anything I was too drunk and made a mistake. This was before the #metoo movement so drunk sex even if you can't remember was still the girl's fault.

I stayed quiet. I was scared. I was in denial. I got home and took the longest shower of my life. Trying desperately to scrub the feeling of him off of me. My vagina was, what felt like, on fire due to the hot water hitting the trauma area. It took me nearly two years to come to terms that okay, yes I was raped by Greg. I couldn't wrap my head around why. Why did Greg do this to me when we hated eachother? Why was I so drunk off one drink. Why did no one believe me? I learned over the span of these past seven years that sexual assault and rape are an act of power. It is not a sexual act. He wanted absolute power over me, to take away a part of me which is what he did for a while. I wasn't so drunk off one drink. Something was done to me. I'm not sure if it was Greg who did it or if someone else was hoping to do it and he got the jump on it. I still don't have those answers but I know something happened I just don't know exactly what. No one believed me because they were shitty friends. They were also fifteen and scared. I never faulted them for what happened to me, i never blamed them for not believeing me. I resent them because over the course of the years after I cried to them when I came to terms with my assault they still maintained a friendship with Greg. Jared was still best friends with Greg, as well. Which all felt like a slap in the face. They chose a rapist over me. Sarah's betrayal cut the deepest. I knew her forever and she still didn't believe me.

So, over the years my friendship with Becca and Sarah crumbled because what they did was not okay. I then had to see the #metoo movement form. Which brought me comfort to share my story but I also cringed because those girls were in support of the movemement but were still friends with my rapist. Sarah even texted me asking why I made her out to be the bad guy when I shared my story because they were scared and young. I never once told people their names but of course they felt guilty and as I said I never faulted them for not doing anything back in 2014 when it happened. Their actions in the present are what hurt. I blocked them on all things and was ready to move on with my life. I didn't get to the place in an instant though. No. That took about four years.

Once I came to terms with what happened two years later and stopped denying my assault I became a very, very violent and angry person. I was pissed. How could my friends let this happen? I wanted to fuck them up to be honest. I was dating a girl at this point in my life and she even got fed up with me "constantly talking about my rape." It was, "time to move on." It happened two years ago. But, this was fresh to me. Those past two years were filled with denial and cloudy memories due to being drugged. Once I accepted, yes Kacey, you were raped. I got angry. I was on edge constantly. I had horrible nightmares. I couldn't get the feeling of his hands off of me. I could hear his voice in my dreams, in my head. I saw him at school every day and would freeze. I checked every corner of the hallways and when I would see him I became hysterical. My senior year I had a class with him. Thank god I also had that class with the greatest friend I ever had in my entire life, Brittany. She sat with me everyday and was truly the only person in my life who never told me to stop talking about it, never got tired of me crying, never befriended Greg and was truly the only person who believed me. Brittany, you saved me. Thank you. That was my biggest test yet and I think having that class with him forced me to confront my fears head on and finally get help. My teacher, *Mr. Fletcher was the only person who knew what happened to me without me directly saying it. He never forced me to present in front of class and never let me be alone with Greg. Thank you Mr. Fletcher.

Once I graduated, I felt a since of freedom which came from me being bipolar and manic at the time but I felt on top of the world. I met the love of my life during this time of my life, Nick. He encouraged me to share my story and I finally did. The overwhelming support I receieved was insane. I was so happy! People believed me and even those who didn't, I didn't have to deal with them everyday anymore. I was on top of the world. Until, I wasn't. Mania follows soon after with depression. When depression hits me, it hits hard. I struggled. I was lost and the nightmares came back. I developed something called sleep paralysis which basically are nightmares that feel so real and you can't move. I truly think it had to do with me not being able to move during my assault. I relived my assault every. single. night. I got tired of waking in a panic, so I just stopped sleeping. I would go 2-3 days without sleeping. I was constantly on edge, I would have panic attacks in public, be convinced Greg was after me, crying, having extremely vivid flashbacks, and so much more. I stalked his social media accounts every day making sure he wasn't in town so I could leave my house. If he was in town, I locked up and shut down. I didn't leave. This assault was consuming me all while I put a brave face on social media being the town's poster woman for sexual assault awareness. The double life was consuming me and killing me.

I needed help. I discovered a trauma center place. I discovered something within this center a form of therapy for PTSD or trauma victims called A.R.T therapy. This stands for Accelerated Resolution Therapy. It employs techniques like rapid eye movement, exposure, imagery-rescripting and guided imagery to basically store a memory in the correct place. My therapist explained that traumatic memories are in the wrong place in your brain and A.R.T therapy helps store them correctly and allows you to face these memories head on. It's very mentally painful and physically exhausting to go through but in the end, it works. I was wary of it at first, but I was willing to try any and everything. Which, in hindsight, I'm so, so glad I did. The healing didn't happen right away by any means but after a few sessions I began to notice small changes. I wouldn't think of it constantly. A mix of medicine and A.R.T therapy got me my sleep back, my positive outlook on life and helped me coupe with my PTSD, anxiety and bipolar that I was diagnosed with.

I eventually came back to the person I used to be, only better. I shared my story and so many brave women reached out to me and told me I inspired them to talk about it and they didn't feel so alone anymore. It brought me so much joy to know I was even impacting people from my hometown. It made me sad to hear that so many women experienced assault here but I was so thankful we could rely on eachother and be brave together.

Sexual assault is something so many women and men deal with. More than likely you have either been a victim of sexual assault yourself, know someone who has or someone in your life is a victim of it and doesn't talk about it. I still think about my assault sometimes, but it doesn't consume me anymore. I feel free and my healing process has not been linear by any means but I am HEALING. It's an up and down thing that some days are harder than others but it doesn't mean you are back at square one. I'm so proud of myself for seven years after my assault I am where I am in life. I have a beautiful daughter with the love of my life and am surrounded by people that lift me up. I cut out negative influences and focus on what I can control. If you've been assaulted please know you are not alone. I hope my story has inspired you and thank you for reading my story. Also, find comfort in this. If no one else believes you, I believe you. Thank you.

* People named in this story with this by the name is indication that they are based on real people but the names have been changed to made up names for the sake of privacy.

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