Kristina Galea

I married my own rapist [Fiction] By Kristina Galea © All Rights Reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the permission of the author. “That girl is weird”, “she looks like a nerd to me”, “is that Lauren Ms Lonely Hearts?” I would hear people whispering to each other as I pass in front of their clique in the park. Most of the time, people (strangers or even friends), believe that they know every inch of your life, yet they probably wouldn’t have tasted any single bit of it, and they start gossiping and spreading rumours about you, as they think that you’re not worth the life you’re living and make others feel that you’re inferior to the society. Society might give you the label of “Ms Lonely Hearts”, due to the lack of interaction with your opposite sex. Humans not even have the slightest idea what could have led you to stop socialising with males or females. I’ve been called “ugly”, “whore”, “Ms Lonely Hearts”, “lesbian”, “weird” and I’ve also been bullied. I’ve been bullied since I was in secondary school. While other girls shared their romantic weekend with their class, or how they sneaked out of their parents’ house to meet the hot blonde guy next door, I shared nothing but how I solved my algebra problems; I didn’t have any exciting news to share. I wasn’t like the other girls in my form. I was different. I didn’t like boys. I hated them. I detested men in general (I still do). I was raped by Alex; my brother’s best friend. I was just 15. He was 10 years my senior; egoistic, possessive, but also had his sweet side. I would spend a lot of hours with him. To tell the truth, I had a crush on Alex, but, of course, at that age, I wasn’t interested in committing myself to a relationship. He was a charming young man and would often buy me chocolates, flowers or even compliment me on the outfit that I’d be wearing. Everyone thought he was kind, sweet and caring; my mum, my dad and even my brother Jamie. I had a very close relationship with my brother. I had no friends, so all my secrets were trusted with him, as he wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag. I would tell him about my feelings, my problems at school and even my crush on his best friend. He said that in a few years, I could start dating him as I wouldn’t be under-aged anymore (imagine seeing a 13year-old dating a 23-year old eh?). He thought that it would be cool if his best friend dated his own sister. Jamie treated Alex as a brother, in fact, he trusted us alone in our basement garage, while waiting for the other band members to arrive or while he’d bring something from his room upstairs. My parents didn’t mind either since they’d known Alex since he was in high school. One Sunday morning, I was alone with Alex in the garage (as usual) chatting about music and out of the blue, he kissed my lips. I was startled. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I immediately went running upstairs in my room. I wondered; ‘why did he kiss me?’, ‘did he like me?’, ‘why would anyone kiss me?’ I was 13, and unlike the other girls at my school, I barely knew anything about boys, kissing, relationships, etc. I couldn’t tell my brother about my “first kiss”. Even though I liked Alex a lot, somehow, I kind of felt embarrassed. I have a low self-esteem. Everyone believed I was ugly and I’d also been called a “nerd” as I was a straight- A student; since I had no friends to go out with, I would spend most of my time © All Rights Reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the permission of the author. studying instead, which I didn’t regret at all. Studying was my priority, and my dream was to become a doctor. On June 15th, 2004, I was walking home from school, and I spotted Alex. I hadn’t talked to him since that kiss. Our eyes met, and he approached me. He held my hand and apologised; “I’m so sorry Lauren. I don’t know what had gone through my mind.” I forgave him. After all, what was the fuss about? It was just a kiss. “Lauren, I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’ve been in love with you since I’ve known your brother. You’re all I think about when I open my eyes in the morning and before I go to sleep.” What?! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was in the garage with Alex, as Jamie went to pick up his girlfriend from her workplace. I couldn’t believe what Alex had just told me. That was when I realised that I was deeply in love with him. He started touching me and telling me that he wanted to run away with me. He wanted to run away where nobody knew us. He wanted to run away so he could be alone with me. The following months, I’d spend the days with Alex. Of course, none of my family members was aware of our “relationship”. Every night, I’d sneak out of our back door to meet my beloved Alex. We’d spend the night walking by the sea admiring the summery breeze. He ‘d often tell me that as soon as I turned 18, we both could tell our parents regards our relationship and then get married. I felt so special and important. Nobody had ever made me feel like that before. I was over the moon. I was so content, that finally, I had my first boyfriend, and had become just like the other girls at my school. The other girls. I longed to be like them. I wanted to fit in. Alex introduced me to alcohol. He treated me like a grown-up. He wanted me to become like him. I also started smoking at the age of 14, and we would visit his friend’s club every Friday night. Finally, I’m living the adult life, I thought. There, I’d drink and dance with men 20 years my senior. Eventually, Alex became more possessive, and the new adult life had altered my teen life completely; from the nerdy girl that would spend her nights alone studying, to the girl that would spend all the night in clubs dancing with strangers. Alex would usually force himself on me, while we’re on our own in his Ford car. I knew nothing about sex education, as my parents hadn’t taught me anything and lately, I skipped classes since I preferred spending the day with Alex rather than listening to my teachers lamenting about the Berlin Wall or William Shakespeare. I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave Alex. I was aware that whatever he was doing to me was completely wrong. I subscribed to a forum on the Internet where teenagers with © All Rights Reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the permission of the author. relationship problems would join to seek for advice. I’d learnt that Alex didn’t really love me, but was only taking advantage of me. How could he do that? Why would he benefit from an under-aged girl? I needed help. Meanwhile, my brother got married, and I lost contact with him. I didn’t blame him. He had started a new chapter in his life and for sure didn’t want his sister nagging about her possessive- abusive boyfriend. When I confronted Alex about it, he warned me that everything should be kept between us, and if I ever tried to tell someone, he’d kill my family. I was petrified. I could neither tell my parents nor report him to the police. I couldn’t tell anybody. I felt lonely. Did Alex really mean what he said? Would he kill my parents? Would he murder his best friend? I felt so weak. My brother wasn’t there to protect me. He wasn’t aware what his best friend was doing to his baby sister. My parents couldn’t call the police as they thought that their daughter was sleeping in tranquillity in her room at night, and not offer her body to “sweet and caring Alex.” They weren’t even aware that I had been dating him for almost 2 years. When I was out, they’d usually think that I was ditching school with some old friends. April 6th, 2006. 10am. I woke up in a hospital room surrounded by my parents, my brother and his wife, Cathy. “What happened?” I asked. My parents informed me that I fainted while I was waiting for someone in the park, and somebody called an ambulance, but his identity was unknown. Of course, I thought, I’ve been so stressed out lately, that most probably, I couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re pregnant”, my mum blurted out. What? I thought, how could I be pregnant? “Who’s the father?” my dad asked, “how could you do this to us? How could you do this to yourself?” It was Alex. Alex was my baby’s father. I explained everything to my parents and my brother. “You’ve been dating him all this time without our concern?” My dad was mad. Angry. I didn’t blame him. Probably I would have felt the same if I was in his shoes. It wasn’t actually our “secret relationship” that my parents were mostly mad about, but the fact that they believed that the kind, sweet and caring Alex couldn’t possibly have raped me. They assumed that I was making everything up. At first, my brother was trying to be understanding and protective, but my parents convinced him that none of it was true and that I had made it all up just to seek attention. I realised that my brother didn’t confide in me anymore. He didn’t trust my words. He didn’t believe that his best friend was a “child molester”. He didn’t think that Alex would betray him or ME. Nobody thought that Alex would threaten to kill. © All Rights Reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the permission of the author. All my dreams were shattered. I regretted every moment that I’d spent with Alex. I regretted every minute I had spent with him in the garage. I regretted those nights I had gone with him to the clubs. I’ve come to realise that I’ve never been loved or protected by my own family. I was referred to a social worker, who’d help me with my emotional problems and my new life as a mother. I’m not allowed to talk about the rape. I’m not authorised to go to the police. My parents have threatened me that they would take my baby away if I ever lied about Alex, and they forced me to marry him. They believed that the child’s father has to be part of the family and that I wouldn’t be capable of raising my baby by myself. I was forced to marry my rapist. I was forced by my own parents to marry the man who took advantage of me; the man who stole my childhood and took away my dignity. I gave birth to Jacob on February 26th in 2007. I was young to become a mother, and I dreaded the moment that I had to hold the son of my rapist in my arms. But, on the other hand, I didn’t want to let my parents take him away, after all, Jacob’s not the one to be blamed for what had happened. Nine years have passed, and Jacob has grown up into a beautiful young boy. I tried to forgive Alex, for the sake of our son, but my monstrous husband doesn’t care. He only cares about himself and his pleasures. He sometimes hits me with his belt and locks me in our cellar for a whole day, and takes Jacob to my parents’ house to spend the day there. Jacob is the only person who gives me the strength to live. He’s the only person why I open my eyes each morning. I promised myself that I’ll take care of him no matter what happens and that he’ll always have my support. I don’t want him to go what I’ve been through. I’ll always protect my son and I hope, that, when he grows up into a young man, he’ll be there for me when I’ll tell him about what his father has put me through, and protects his own children just like I am protecting HIM and giving him all the love that a loving parent should do. © All Rights Reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the permission of the author.