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'Nikki's' Scar - A Personal Account of Molestation

Sept. 26, 2008
Intro by Maggie Fraser, the author of 'Nikki's Scar' is not named for privacy issues.

Here is Nikki's story. She sent it to me with the names changed to protect her privacy and is very willing to have it published on "Forget the Spin". In fact she was inspired to write it after reading the two stories last week about the bride kidnapping and the scars. Nikki's story is a good indication of the fact that in Western cultures, where feminism is supposedly flourishing, we still have a long way to go. A huge percentage of Canadian women have been sexually abused at some time in their lives. Many of them are unsure whether they have been raped or not because their experiences fall into a gray area somewhere between forced intercourse and being treated with human dignity.

These experiences leave deep and invisible scars on the survivors who are often unable to trust their own judgment with regards to reality after being coerced by their abusers and/or their families into believing that nothing bad really happened to them, when their own inner reality is telling them a very different story. Nikki's courage in breaking that silence and coming forward with her story is a step taken in the hopes that she may inspire others to bring their stories out of the darkness to where we can begin to understand what is really going on and bring about change.
- Maggie Fraser


Nikki's Scar

Let me take you back in time. It's 1975. It's Saturday night in a nice house belonging to a nice family in rural Southern Ontario.

I'm a little girl on the floor of the upstairs bathroom and there's an older boy laying on top of me panting and saying, "It's OK, it's OK don't cry." I say, "No Bobby stop," and I look up at the ceiling, the light is in my eyes and my pants are around my ankles. I can feel something rubbing against my leg. I'm scared but I don't know why. Bobby said he loves me. He always sticks his tongue in my mouth. It's yucky but I don't say nothing 'cause I don't want to hurt his feelings. Maybe this is sex. I think it's a mortal sin. Am I going to hell now? Maybe that's why I'm crying. My tummy hurts. The bottom of the shower is rusty and there's a little spider there.

It's not a school night so Mom let us have a sleep over. Me and my friend Barbie were playing with my brother, Kenny and his friend Bobby. Bobby said that he wanted to fuck me. I don't know what that means and I think it's bad but Barbie thinks it's cool and Barbie kissed Kenny and I think they are going to fuck. Bobby came in when I was peeing and said that I had to fuck him because I told Barbie. He pulled his pants down and his thing looked really ugly. He got me to lie down on the floor with my pants down. Then he got on top of me and started bouncing up and down.

My Mom is yelling and banging on the door. Did Kenny tell? We're gonna be in trouble. She's drunk and I don't know where my Dad is. When we came out of the bathroom my Mom yelled a lot and then I don't remember anything after that. Maybe I ran to my room. Maybe I cried. I don't know. It's a total blank.

The next day was Sunday and when I woke up I felt like I had done a very bad thing that I could never take back and I was ruined forever. I wished I could go back to the day before and start again. I was afraid to go to church because God would be there and he would know. I cried and said I was sick. Later when everyone was gone my Mom talked to me about it but she was drunk again so I didn't think she'd remember. She asked me what was wrong and I said all of a sudden, "Bobby fucked me." I didn't feel better because my mom started to cry. Then she said, "One day you will love a man and it will feel good." She held me on the couch for a while. She smelled like beer.

There's this one song that I heard on the radio that morning that I can't stand. I threw those pants away and my Mom wondered what happened to them. Red plaid seersucker; I can't stand the sight of it.

Nobody ever said anything about it after that except for the time that my Mom screamed at Bobby out the door to stay the hell away from Nikki. He still came over all the time and stuck his tongue in my mouth in the hall closet. My sister Marnie saw and she thought it was puppy love. Sally came up to my room one day and told me that I was way too young to have sex and that I would have trouble finding a husband because I would have to tell him and he wouldn't want to marry that kind of girl.

Back at school Kenny and Bobby told the other boys and they came and asked me. At first I felt really cool but then I felt sick again. I was only in grade five and all the other girls were outside skipping rope but I didn't want to talk to them 'cause I felt like they could tell that I was a bad girl and they would be so grossed out if they knew what I did with Bobby.

Years went by and Bobby would still try to make out with me every chance he got. Once when I was fourteen and drunk he pulled me into the back seat of a parked car and started doing things that actually felt good. Then I thought it was too late for me. I had to be bad if I liked that, still I pushed him away and ran home because he had bad breath.

One night Bobby snuck into the house when everyone was sleeping. He came into my bedroom, woke me up a started trying to kiss me. When I resisted he said that if I didn't let him fuck me he'd make a noise and my Dad would be mad if he woke up. But I grabbed his hand so he couldn't touch me down there and after we struggled he gave up and before he left he patted me on the head and said "Don't worry you're still a virgin."

I lost my "real virginity" later with a guy I liked from school. It wasn't long after that that two other friends of my brother started coming into my bedroom at night and I had such a crush on them and I thought they really liked me.

Twenty six years have passed since then and I still have problems making out and having sex with men. I feel guilty when I like it. I wander off in my mind and I can't come half the time. Sometimes I get grossed out but I don't know how to communicate while having sex. I reach a point in a relationship where I start to feel like the guy expects sex. Then I totally lose my hard on and I start having sex regardless of whether I want to or not so they won't feel rejected. Then it starts hurting and I eventually become disgusted and break up or go fuck someone else so the guy leaves. I don't trust men and I expect them to betray me. I choose relationships with guys who have problems because I think that's the best I can do or because I think I can help them because I understand.

There have been periods in my life when I had lots of one night stands, hoping to meet the right lover, and finally thinking that maybe casual sex was a good long term solution for me. But it led to depression and angry men. On two separate occasions I've spent hours in the police station filing assault reports.

I have trouble having healthy relationships with other women because I'm afraid if they get to know me they'll find out what a slut I am and then hate me. I know I'm not gay because I tried that and it was nice but no fireworks, but since I've had sex with women, I think maybe straight women will sense that and be grossed out.

Now I'm a forty three year old single mom and I don't date and I have few close friends. I don't feel that I can discuss any of this with my family so our relationship is nice but superficial.

I've tried to talk to a few boyfriends about this over the years but they don't get it. I never had sexual intercourse with Bobby so he never raped me. "So it's not that bad" they say. One guy said that I must have liked it if I let it go on for so many years, and then I guiltily recalled that one time it felt good. There's no visible scar. I was never beat up: "It was just normal kids discovering their sexuality, so what's the problem?"





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