I was raped by PrincessInAFairyTale
My story began at the age of 15, just shy of turning 16, when I met an incredibly charming, sweet, and funny 17-year-old who swept me off my feet. Our love was special, and as an interracial couple (he was white, and I was mixed race), we received compliments and encouragement from those around us. This only fueled my feelings for him, and we were happy together for a while.
However, as our relationship progressed and I moved in with him for the summer, I started to see a side of him that I never imagined existed. He became increasingly possessive and controlling, not allowing me to have any male friends. One day, when I was chatting with my cousin and his friends, he accused me of choosing them over him just because they were black. I was taken aback and had to explain to him that they were my own family members. But even after that incident, his jealousy and controlling behavior only worsened. He became verbally and emotionally abusive, yelling at me and calling me hurtful names. The person whom I initially saw as kind, funny, and attractive had turned into someone ugly and unrecognizable.
I had had enough and decided to move back in with my parents, but he begged me to stay, promising to change. My naïve heart believed him, and I gave him another chance. However, the fights and yelling continued. One day, during a heated argument, he lost control and hit me. In a fit of anger, I hit back, which only made things worse. He began to beat me, slamming my head against the wall and choking me. I tried to escape upstairs to the safety of the rooms, but he was a skilled football player and caught up to me quickly. By the time he was finished, I was covered in bruises all over my body. The nights were the hardest, as I had to suffer in silence.
My relationship with my ex-boyfriend was far from perfect. In fact, it was a nightmare. Despite being madly in love with him, I constantly found myself walking on eggshells, afraid to set him off. Whenever we argued, his anger would quickly escalate into physical abuse, leaving me with bruises and a broken heart. He would drag me out of bed, hit me, and yell hurtful words at me until I was reduced to tears. I would try to distance myself by sleeping on the far end of the bed, but he would always pull me towards him, trying to make up for his actions by saying he only acted that way because he loved me. But the beatings, shouting, and manipulations continued, leaving me in a cycle of fear and confusion.
There were days when he was charming and kind, making me believe that he had changed. On our anniversary, he took me out to dinner and shopping, and for a moment, I let myself believe that our relationship could be happy and healthy. But as soon as we got home, he showed his true colors again. When I was too tired for his advances, he became forceful, claiming that he had contributed to the day’s expenses and therefore I owed him something. Despite my protests, he proceeded to have his way with me, disregarding my feelings and my body.
This pattern of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse continued for three more years. I was trapped in a toxic cycle, unable to break free from his control. It took every ounce of courage I had to finally leave him and put an end to the abuse.
At the young age of 22, I have only confided in my best friend and sister about my past experiences. This is the third time I am sharing my story as I am currently in a relationship, but I have not yet told my boyfriend what I have been through. I am afraid of his reaction and how he may perceive me. It all began when I was 15 years old, just before turning 16.
I met a charming, kind, and funny 17-year-old boy who would eventually become my boyfriend. Our relationship was often praised by others due to our racial differences (he is white and I am of mixed race, although I identify as black). This only fueled my desire to stay with him. However, things took a turn when I moved in with him for the summer at the age of 16.
He became increasingly jealous and controlling, forbidding me from having any male friends, and even accusing me of preferring those boys over him because of their race. I was appalled by his behavior and tried to explain that the boys I was talking to were my cousin and his friends, but it only seemed to anger him more. As time went on, his jealousy and controlling nature escalated, and he became verbally and emotionally abusive. Our relationship was filled with constant fights and him yelling at me, often resorting to calling me hurtful names.
I couldn’t handle it any longer, the guy I thought to be charming, kind, and handsome had turned into someone ugly and spiteful. I finally made the decision to move back in with my parents, but he pleaded with me to stay, promising to change. Naively, I believed him and stayed, but the fights and yelling continued. One day, during a heated argument, he lost control and hit me. This was the final straw for me.
I stood up to him and delivered a swift punch, but to my dismay, it only provoked him further. In a fit of rage, he grabbed me violently by my hair and slammed my head against the wall. Choking me with a vice-like grip, I desperately tried to flee to the safety of the upstairs rooms. However, with his athletic build, he was able to catch up to me in no time, dragging me down the stairs with terrifying force. By the time he was done, my body was covered in painful bruises.
Each night, I would huddle in a corner of the bed, keeping my distance from him. Yet, like a predator, he would pull me towards him and whisper words of apology, claiming that he only hurt me because he loved me. But these empty promises could not mask the truth of his actions – the constant beatings, the verbal abuse, and the never-ending cycle of apologies.
On the occasion of our anniversary, he took me out to dinner and showered me with gifts, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe that he had changed. But as the night wore on, and we settled in to watch a movie, his true colors began to show once again. Ignoring my protests, he began to touch me, insisting that I should not be a virgin at the age of 16.
I was only 16 when I met my ex-boyfriend, who was about to turn 18. He was the most charming, loving, and funny guy I had ever met, and I fell for him instantly. We were an interracial couple, with him being white and me being mixed black and white. People would often comment on how cute we looked together, which made me feel even more special and committed to the relationship.
At first, things were great between us. But when I moved in with him for the summer, he started becoming possessive and controlling. He wouldn’t let me have any friends, especially if they were boys. I remember one incident where he saw me talking to my cousin and his friends, and that set him off. He grabbed me and dragged me back home, accusing me of wanting to be with those boys because they were black, and he was white. I was furious that he would use race as a way to control me, and I told him that the boys were my family and nothing more. But he wouldn’t listen.