My traumatizing experience with my rapist Armie Hammer: Part 1

“I know what I am doing the whole time I’m doing it,”

Armie wrote to me in summer 2017 after what he did to me on April 24, 2017.

“I still have some pent up aggression to take out on your body.”

In summer 2017, I wrote to him that I couldn’t comprehend how he could be so cruel, that he severely damaged and crushed me. I called him a manipulative psychopath who raped and beat me. Over time I had grown more and more scared of him. I explained I felt dissociated, overwhelmed with shame and self-blame, frequently nauseous and had began self-harming since he assaulted me. I wrote I couldn’t see him anymore.

“…Did I make terrible mistakes? Yes. But that doesn’t invalidate the depth and beauty of what we experienced,” Armie wrote.

“My initial reaction was heartbreak…

Do you remember how many nights we stayed up all night talking? How much we shared with each other? It all meant something and it was all beautiful and no matter how poorly I handled the situation (very poorly…) I don’t think it should deminish that…”

“You deserved way better… All signs here point to my fault. And I know I said this before but I am so sorry. So, so sorry.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace and expressed he was worried I was going to commit suicide because of his abuse. I broke up with him again and we sat on the couch where Armie cried as he held me tightly like a baby for a long time. I kept asking again that we cease communication but he repeatedly pleaded we shouldn’t stop.

He called me when I was going through security at the airport leaving LA for good. He wouldn’t let me go. By the time I landed, he had left me many missed calls and barrages of long messages across multiple messaging platforms.

In 2019, Armie reached out to apologize to me.

“I wanted to apologize and make amends. I allowed myself to cause so much pain,” he started. “I have been in years of intensive therapy and it’s changed my life,”

Armie claimed in 2019 – the year before he met Courtney Vucekovich who spoke out about her traumatic experiences with Armie and said she checked into a trauma rehab center because of his abuse, and Paige Lorenze who accused him of cutting her with a knife and branding her in 2020. He proceeded to describe himself as “a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“My sadism has blossomed,” Armie boasted.

“I like newbies because I can totally train them. If I find a vanilla girl, I make it my job to find the kink in her and pull it out. I want to find her limits and then push and expose her to more than she thought she could handle.”

He told me more about one of the women he was involved with.

“We met working together. She was a vanilla until I turned her out. We got into blood play.”

…What?

“Me drinking her blood,” Armie clarified.

What did Armie find appealing about drinking blood?

“Blood is just so primal. And pure. It’s the purest form of someone’s life force. And if you want to eat someone alive it’s the closest you can get,”

Armie explained and proceeded to describe his blood-drinking rituals. At the time I didn’t know Armie had filmed “blood-soaked” videos with his friend in 2013.

“Pull back,” I requested.

“You are the one with concerns and fears,” Armie wrote.

Armie seemed to appreciate his fans.

“I’m just so fucking done with the ship or Stan or whatever culture. It’s toxic and bizarre. I am not doing the sequel [to Call Me By Your Name] [simply] to get away from that brood of vipers,” he wrote.

“I’ve thought about you so god damn much the last few years. We had a very intense bond. I check your Instagram all the time,”

Armie started the love-bombing.

“It’s set the standard high for what I’m looking for. You are the god damned standard I hold women to. You set the bar too high. You are like the Michael Phelps of fucking. The golden standard. Everyone is held to it. And everyone falls short. Everyone else just doesn’t have what you have. Amateurs. You are the Michael Phelps of sex… I masturbate to you regularly. And have for years. I could hear your voice… I hear it all day in my head. How you go out and I keep fucking [you]. You are mine and I am yours. No matter what happens. And we’ve tested that to the extremes. And if I’m not I might as well die with you.”

I eventually told him off.

“You are right,” Armie admitted. “It wasn’t respectful. I’m just happy to be talking to you. I got carried away and I hope it wasn’t triggering.

I want to drink your drool. I want to rub cum into cuts and then lick the cum and blood. Bet you didn’t see that coming. I’ll choke you to death and as you die you will be holding a rope to a contraption that will cut my throat so as we die we feel the warmth of my blood covering us. But please know that’s not why I reached out. The beast took over.”

He invited me to New York. I declined and admitted I felt bad for having replied to him at all.

He asked me to do something humiliating. I refused.

“I didn’t ask. You’ll do exactly as I tell you,” Armie wrote.

I repeatedly refused.

“Next time I want you to apologize,” he replied.

He invited me to join him on a trip to Saudi Arabia he was on with his friend from the blood-soaked video.

“We can do whatever we want. Hopefully that includes torture. Because I’d love that,” Armie wrote.

I declined. He kept sending voice notes, as he does, and pressuring me to send him some back. I declined. He demanded to video chat. I refused.

“No. You are video chatting. It wasn’t a question,” Armie declared.

I refused again.

“I don’t care. Are you saying no? Are. You. Saying. No. I will talk to you again when I feel like it but I don’t know when that will be. You brought this on yourself,” Armie responded.

I called him cruel.

“I am being cruel. You will learn to be my little slave no matter how tired you are. All I wanted to do was cum looking at you. Now you are going to make me punish you,” Armie replied.

“That was seriously fucked up,” I responded.

“I was just trying to punish you,” Armie wrote back.

He kept asking and I kept refusing. He kept pressuring me to do degrading acts.

“You can drink water after,” Armie wrote in case I vomited from what he wanted me to do.

He invited me to Canada and asked me to burn myself for him.

“I cannot wait,” Armie wrote. “To see if you would die for me. And when you die, I will kill you. That’s the only way you can die. Do you understand? Choking you to death while looking into your eyes. One day it will be you dying. Safely in my hands, my mouth on yours. Tasting your last breath.

If there is another country (even in the Caribbean) I will fly you there and meet you.”

I told Armie I’m severely traumatized by him and afraid of him.

“I don’t know where this came from. Other than ptsd which I do take responsibility for,” Armie replied, acknowledging that he caused me PTSD.

It was time for Armie to leave Saudi Arabia and to fly home to his children.

“Almost started crying. May have had something to do with not wanting to go home,” Armie wrote.

I recommended self-care.

“Please fix my soul,” Armie begged. “I need you to help me. I want to eat you alive. I want to bite fucking pieces off of you. I need to devour you. That’s my skin. I would eat it if I was there. I would swallow it. I’d chase you down and pounce on you so fast if you tried to walk away. You’ll need something strong to hold me back from you. I’m feeling very possessive.”

My heart wrenched with trauma bond and I said I felt as if he was holding it.

“That just made me so hard. So hard. Thinking of holding your heart in my hand and controlling when it beats. I am 100% a cannibal. I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it while still warm. I shot it, ran up, pulled out a knife, cut the heart out and ate it. Raw. Still warm. The feeling of the muscle fiber, the taste of the iron in the blood. I couldn’t stop. I smeared blood on my face. I’d eat your heart too if I wasn’t stuck without you after,” Armie wrote.

I wanted to find excuses for him and I wondered whether his disturbing behaviour was due to his drug use.

“It’s too easy to just pass it off as drugs. And feels dismissive. Don’t blame drugs… it’s much more complicated than that,” Armie wrote. “I’d give you the tiniest cut and fall asleep sucking on it. The taste of you, the taste of your irons and minerals… Can you send me a voice note back? I miss your voice so much.”

I refused and he protested. I asked if maybe he’d watched Game of Thrones too much.

“I’d rather rape you than watch two actors I know badly act it,” Armie replied. “I’m convinced nothing in the world compares. I feel like a god as a result. I feel power most can’t imagine. I need to rape you again. Remember when you were on the floor and I walked away and grabbed the knife? You were crying on the floor and I left you there in a pile of tears, grabbed a knife and held it to your throat and raped you more. You were screaming and crying so much. Raping you on your floor with a knife against you. Everything else seemed boring. You crying and screaming, me standing over you. I felt like a god. You were a helpless little kitten and a wolf slipped in and ate you alive. Not the kittens fault. Blame the wolf,” Armie wrote.

I called him a monster.

“A full blown monster. I am the devil. And I love it,” Armie proclaimed.

I told him I got severely triggered and had nightmares.

He invited me to Spain and Italy and asked to call me. I refused. He announced he was flying over my country on a plane.

When I told him I was crying and tried to explain to him how adversely he affects me, Armie got very angry at me. He claimed I was “the bad guy” for telling on him and threatened to punish me

“for it fucking SEVERELY.”

I told him he made me cry and that I felt suicidal.

“I will not abuse you. I promise,”

he replied and brought up a sentimental memory of when he cooked (vegetarian) for me.

I communicated to Armie that he traumatized me severely. I needed to leave him but found it very difficult because of the trauma bond.

Armie had other ideas.

“Would you come and be my property till you die? If I wanted to cut off one of your toes and keep it with me in my pocket so I always had a piece of you in my possession?

I’m deadly serious.

Merry Christmas kitten!”

I tried to leave him.

“Don’t. I need you through this,” Armie pleaded. “Just be supportive. It’s been really hard for me.”

He invited me to France and asked for photos.

“I want to see your mouth. I miss it. So much. My son just fell asleep on my chest. But I can’t stop thinking about your mouth. How are you even real?”

I asked him to meditate and told him about a headband meditation device which detects your brain waves.

“Your brain waves? Show me. I want to see everything. I want to see your brain, your blood, your organs, every part of you.”

…Why?

“I would definitely bite it. 100%. Or try to fuck it. Probably both. If I fucked you in to a vegetative state id keep you, feed you, wash you,” Armie replied.

I offered to help heal him with spirituality because I thought that was the only thing left that could maybe save him since his “years of intensive therapy” obviously didn’t work.

“Anyway. Back to my blood,” Armie continued. “I can’t stop thinking about fucking your actual brain. Brand you, shave your head and keep your hair with me, cut a piece of your skin off and make you cook it for me. When I tell you to slit your wrists and use the blood as lube for anal. Drinking it while fucking you. Me rubbing your blood all over. I want to rape you so badly. I felt like a god. The knife…. Standing over you while you screamed and cried. Watching you try to crawl away. Stalking you like my little prey.”

I felt nauseous. I told him I was surprised he hadn’t broken any of my bones considering the severity of his past violence.

“Those are my bones. And if I want to break one to prove it I will. Fingers, toes. And if you still need more proof… your fucking neck,” Armie wrote.

I objected.

“If you tell me what I can’t break I will break them all. I’m going to cum thinking of breaking your bones,” Armie wrote.

I told him I was busy and had to go.

“I’m thinking of breaking your ribs,” Armie replied. “Cutting you into pieces and fucking the pieces. What do you need to walk for. You just lay on a pile on the floor and ill fuck you whenever I walk past you.

Ok… I have to run. My daughter wants me to play with her. All I will be thinking about is raping.”

He later sent me recordings of himself masturbating. I repeatedly told him I was busy. But rejecting Armie’s sexual demands had consequences.

“You will wait outside as punishment. Go. No jacket. So hard thinking of you shivering but not going in till I give you permission,”

Armie wrote and sent me another recording of himself masturbating. He didn’t appreciate my hesitancy to go stand outside alone at night with no jacket in the dead of winter.

“You will send me a voice note while your teeth chatter. You will,” Armie insisted.

I refused again.

“Then you will stay outside. You cannot go in until you send me a picture. No more excuses. Die for me,” Armie demanded.

I stopped responding.

“Did you freeze to death?” Armie asked. “If so that turns me on so much.”

“I finished dont fuck with cats this morning. The third episode had moments that definitely turned me on,” Armie messaged in the morning. “Have I told you my beach ball theory? Your beach ball is how much you like to fuck (what kind of fucking you like to do), etc…. You can hold that beach ball underwater for some reason. But eventually that beach ball will slip. And beach balls don’t gently rise to the surface. They shoot up in the air.”

I told Armie I felt suicidal and blocked him for some time. But due to the trauma bond I went back and kept trying to heal him with spirituality, which, needless to say, didn’t work. I tried to explain to Armie how awful he was making me feel.

Armie replied by email on February 14.

“I can totally see why my actions made you feel that way and I’m sorry. I take full responsibility for that.

It went from “I want to apologize for how I treated you” to “stand outside in the cold for me” reeeaaally quickly. Ha. I think the connection between us makes it hard for it not to go to that place right away. And the history.

…

What can I do to help make you feel better? Is there something you need that I might be able to give you?”

I confronted him over email five days later, on February 19, 2020:

“When you reached out you presented an image of someone who has changed for the better. You said you were now healthy... You were misleading me right from the beginning…

You’ve brought so much hurt into my life again… And I’m so fucking tired of you manipulating.”

For some reason it didn’t seem like that was the kind of answer he was expecting.

I confronted Armie over email in March 2020:

“You knew it messed me up when you raped me.

…I told you I wasn’t ready. I told you I got self-destructive afterwards by starting to drink. Even right after it happened you realized it wasn’t ok, when I finally managed to bring myself to speak and muttered what you had just done to me was too much, and you sat down, covered your face with your hands and started saying things that made it sound like you were seemingly regretting being violent…

While it was happening I couldn’t believe it. I mentally checked out. That’s why I couldn’t open my eyes for 4 or 5 hours while you were doing what you were doing to me. When I was crawling away to get the knife it was to cut the ropes and free myself. I had told you this. I’ve tried so hard to repress it from my memory. Throughout the years I’ve wondered if you’ve done this to others. I had my suspicions way back when you said you felt you were losing control and wanted to drag the flight attendant of a flight you were on into the bathroom…

I couldn’t escape it no matter how hard I tried to forget… It crushed a part of my soul and ripped it apart. Nobody will ever understand…

It’s near impossible to live with. It made me have intrusive suicidal thoughts for years. And for years you’ve been trying to take my voice away and silence me and it’s made me want to scream and die…

You recently told me you tried to fuck a vanilla girl the way you did me that time and that she wasn’t into it. I wondered if you were realising what you were saying. You’re very smart about the girls you pick for that. They’re vulnerable, the kind who won’t speak up. The ones you think you can get away with. I’m terrified how many others there have been and will be if something doesn’t change inside of you. But I’m not sure you want to get better.”

Armie wrote back,

“…If you felt more uncomfortable than I thought (or more uncomfortable than we discussed afterwards) I am so sorry.

…I think it’s a good idea that we talk about it to make sure we get on the same page.”

“…I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

“…Just listen and take it in,” I replied. “It has been incredibly hard and taken me a long time to gather courage.

There were times when it wasn’t as brutal, when you would just walk in, immediately whip your dick out and stick it in my face and demand blowjobs, and I’d pull away laughing nervously and you’d bring it closer and give puppy eyes and start saying “please…” – this isn’t acceptable behavior. And the thought that you’ve put god knows how many other girls through that haunts me…”

“I’m scared what else you could be doing to other women that you don’t admit to, which is one of the main reasons I felt compelled to confront you about that type of behaviour. You even said that it has become a problem because you can’t stop yourself…

You will never comprehend the extent of psychological and emotional damage you’ve done to me. I don’t think you care about women you hurt… I don’t know how many others there are out there. I don’t know what it will take for you to want to stop hurting women.”

Armie wrote over email the next day, in March 2020:

“You have been open and honest with me about how you are feeling and I want you to feel heard. I know you had to deal with a lot of shit as a result of me and I’m sorry. Truly… You didn’t ask for that. You don’t deserve that. And I’m sorry. And I will be sorry and regret how I handled my side of things for ever probably.

Thank you for telling me and thank you for calling out bad behavior. I should have taken what you said about How you felt/feel without trying to defend myself…

How can I make amends?

A”

I replied,

“Me being honest makes one of us… You don’t want to learn…

You only care about self-interests and don’t care how much chaos and pain you cause.

Even though you’re still in denial about your actions and want to blame others, you’ve permanently damaged me. I can only hope there aren’t too many other girls you’ve abused suffering in silence. You need to stop hurting women…

I will never forgive you.”

Armie tried calling me numerous times.

“Declined, huh? Fucking call me back,” he messaged.

I communicated that I wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“No. You need to answer the damn phone,” Armie replied.

He sent me a glamorous photo of himself from a magazine photoshoot. I replied that his face triggers me and ended up reaching out to a suicide hotline.

An anonymous graphic rape allegation against Armie surfaced online in 2020. It shattered me. He called that allegation “made up” and “dumb”.

“The rape allegation sounded so much like what you used to do to me I was certain it was true when I read it,” I messaged him. “I was so worried because you said you went too far.”

“The story about how I went too far is benign compared to that. Just a bit aggressive. And when she said stop I stopped. No rape, all consented sex,” Armie claimed. As usual.

Then screenshots of messages between Armie and another woman who had been bullied into silence in 2018 resurfaced online again in 2020.

“We had to kill the story about it with several outlets,” Armie wrote. “I’m driving out to the desert. I am leaving town to get away from this conversation specifically,”

he continued and went to a motel set up in a small town outside of LA.

I responded,

“It’s better not to hurt people rather than worry about silencing them.”

A Los Angeles District Attorney declined to prosecute him.

“Sexual assault cases are often difficult to prove. In this case, prosecutors conducted an extremely thorough review,” the statement read in part, even though I don’t know who those prosecutors are and they’ve never spoken to me.

Another woman took out a restraining order against Armie in 2023.