The First Rape
I loved being married having my special someone that came home to me. I loved having a family to take care of. My marriage was not perfect but I thought it was a work in progress. I thought we had a chance at a lifelong relationship, at least at first. Marcus, my husband, and I married on February 14, 2011 in front of the justice of the peace. It wasn’t the wedding of my dreams but I wanted a life with him more than the fancy wedding. Marcus had his own business and worked out of town quite a bit. It was hard but we made it work. One particular week I really missed him and couldn’t wait for him to be home. I spoke to him on the phone and he said that he was on his way home. It was a warm Friday night and I was excited to have him home for a week. Someone that I thought was a friend lived across the driveway from me. We were barbequing, drinking and hanging out. We were having a great time waiting for Marcus to come home. He got delayed because of traffic and the night dragged on. We spoke often and he would update me on where he was and I would tell him all about what was happening. We ate, partied and had so much fun just waiting for him to arrive. As it got late we all turned in and I started to clean up. I did dishes and started putting the food away. Marie went to bed and I planned on staying up to wait for Marcus. After about 1am I went to bed to read but ending up falling asleep.
Sometime later I heard my husband talking to me and I felt his hands on me. He was trying to wake me to let me know he was home. I spoke to him telling him how much I missed him but I was tired and wanted to go back asleep. He kissed me gently and said he would see me in the morning. The next time I remember being disturbed I could feel hands all over me. I couldn’t help but feel complete panic. I tried to push away the hands but they didn’t seem to stop. I was more worried because I couldn’t wake up completely. The next thing I knew I was choking and trying to make whatever it was stop. I finally was able to wake up enough to see who was over me. No words would prepare me for what I saw. It was my husband, Marcus, with his penis in his hands and shoving it in my mouth. He was the one not stopping when I pushed him away, ignoring me saying no I’m tired. I was finally able to shove him enough to throw him off balance a little. I slid back in our bed and tried to tell him no. He then came over to my side of the bed and proceeded to take what little I had on off me. I tried to fight him but it was like my arms were made of rubber. I was so tired and the alcohol and parting late with the neighbors had set in. I continued to fight him but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He did what I thought I would never have to face once I got married. I had this image of him being my protector that I would never have to live in fear again. Never have to face that kind of torment again. My mind slipped back into darkness as he finished what he had started.
I woke the next morning with him sleeping next to me peacefully. My mind tried to wrap my head around what had happened. Was it a dream, did my husband really rape me? I then began to notice that I was still completely undressed and I had bruising on my arms and legs. I was sore in all the wrong places. I wanted it to be a bad dream I wanted it not to have happened at all. My mind was still unsure, I knew I would have to face him to confront him. My worry was that he would lie about it but I had a bigger worry that he would admit and tell me that it was real.
It was still very early when I awoke. I got in the shower and got dressed. I sat on the front porch and tried to figure out what I was going to do and how to do it. Just then my friend from across the driveway came over and asked if I was ok. I said no and tried to tell her pieces of what happened. Instead of finding the support and the friendship I needed I found resistance and an attitude that he was my husband and I needed to deal with this in silence. I was told either leave him or stay quiet there was nothing else to do. After watching my friend leave and go back into her own apartment I sat there for a moment before going back to bed. Feeling completely guilty about not being up when he came home and trying to image that maybe I was too drunk to know what really happened, I choose to stay quiet. Instead I did what any good wife is supposed to do greet her husband with open arms and pretend that the night before was a dream or in my case a nightmare.
The next couple of days were intense and really awkward between us. The incident had affected him and he was waiting for me to say something. However, I never said a word until one night when he grabbed me and held me down and forced me to say what was bothering me. With silent tears running down my face I told him what I saw and what he did. I do not know what I expected but I had hoped we would find a way to heal together and get past it. I was so very wrong. He admitted to doing it freely with some kind of pride. It seemed to be a turn on to him because what followed was worse than knowing he took advantage while I was sleeping he seemed to enjoy the struggle. All I could do was wait and pretend it was my job as a wife. This seemed to change things between us. He no longer waited for permission or acceptance, it was like we had changed who we were that night. I was his wife so he didn’t have to ask or wait for my wanting; it happened when but not how he wanted. He seemed to become more impatient and less satisfied the more he took what he wanted. The nights were something I became to dread to the point that I wanted to stay up late and watch TV or do anything else accept get into bed next to him. It did not seem to matter when I came to bed or how late or how long he had been there before me. It always seemed to be the nightmare that came and there was no place to hide.
I had always wanted to be married to have someone that I knew loved me more than anything that I could love with that same intensity back. I never knew marriage meant that kind of pain or humiliation with no recourse and no way out. My marriage was very short only 3 years and for half of that time I feared my husband with every fiber of my being. I don’t know if I will ever marry again or trust someone that much again. My marriage left me damaged in a way that is not easily forgotten. I hope one day to find the love I so desperately want in my life but I have become ok with being alone. Being alone means no one else takes your peace from you. Being alone means they cannot hurt you when you least expect it. I have never been good being alone but I am learning that it is better than being in constant pain.
