Scarleteen

(Nietzsche, Götzen-Dämmerung, oder, Wie man mit dem Hammer philosophiert)

Content Warning: I'm NOT going to sit down and shut up, it was violent, and crude, so the description is too.

I am 16, and had just about finished sophomore year. Now I am probably finished with high school forever.

I had the literal crap beat out of me. The police took pictures at the hospital, I had bruises on the back of my head, neck, shoulder, and spine. I had bruises on the insides of my thighs, a black eye, bruises on my cheekbone, and two cracked teeth that eventually had to be pulled.

But I fought, I fought hard, and I did not give up. I tried to hurt him as much as I could to make him stop.

He groped my breasts and ass and shoved a finger inside of me. He ripped my dress, panties, and bra.

The hospital took pictures of the damage his fingernails did to my labia as he grabbed my sex. But not the damage the nurse recorded. Damage to my introitus where he raped me by digital penetration ON SCHOOL DISTRICT PROPERTY. In the interior hallway of the main office just outside my counselor's office. I was raped BY A SCHOOL DISTRICT EMPLOYEE DURING HIS WORK HOURS. I know his name, my mother had hired him to do some remodeling work during the upcoming summer.

He was 20 years older, eight inches taller, and 50 pounds heavier than me. We wrestled a bit as he groped me. Then he hit me. After his first blow, I started screaming "RAPE" at the top of my lungs. He tried to shut me up and put his left hand in my mouth. I bit him hard and tried to do as much damage as I could as he continued to strike me hard with a closed fist on the back of my head, neck, shoulder, and back.

Two other school district employees heard me scream. They came and separated us. One called the police. As a thank you she was suspended for not following proper protocol and calling the district first. But then they unsuspended her after she made a statement to my attorney. The other school district employee who literally pulled him off me has a sudden case of amnesia. The rapist decided to get an early start to summer vacation.

The district "lost" the security camera footage for the office. (I was actually raped in the hallway outside of the camera's view. But the camera's footage would show the timing and order that everyone went down the hallway and what we looked like afterward.) My rapist was cleaned up and allowed to leave so the police have no physical evidence from him.

UNLESS YOU DID IT DON'T TELL ME YOU ARE SORRY. Others may want sympathy, I'm not judging, but I don't want it.

(I'll get banned if I say what I really want.)

I'm angry and everyone is telling me to calm down.

My mother is a steaming pile of crap. She isn't supporting me. She wasn't there but is telling me that it didn't happen and the bastard that did it wouldn't have done it. He's a nice guy. The police cannot be trusted. The police frame people. They photoshopped the images.

I've been kicked off two sites for describing what happened. I'm underage, so I am not allowed to talk about sex...

Well, the age of consent here is 16... But rape, by definition, is not consensual. So I guess the age of non-consent is 18?

I moved out. I can't live with my mother, like I said she is a steaming pile of crap. She can't really be so stupid as to believe that I used a lot of mascara to paint bruises on my back, the back of my neck, my shoulder,and face. Or that I had two teeth pulled on a whim.

She wanted me to agree to a sweetheart deal they were offering the rapist. He supposedly agreed to plead guilty to assault, to hitting me repeatedly, but not to ripping my clothes grabbing my tits and ass, or shoving a finger up my cunt.

"Take the win, no school would hire him," my mom said.

She bounces back and forth, "it didn't happen," "it wasn't so bad," "this is enough punishment."

"Nope," I said."They won't hire him when he goes on the register either. You know...I mean...if he doesn't get shanked in jail, which is obviously preferable."

"How can you be so callous, so uncaring about other people?" the talking turd said. "It's sociopathic."

"Did you ask him to rape me, offer up me as a down payment for the kitchen, or did he do it to get back at you for something you did that I don't know about," I retorted.

This wasn't out of the blue. When I was raped I was going to an appointment with my counselor. An appointment that my mother made. An appointment the counselor was elsewhere at the time of. The meeting was supposed to be me responding to my mother's allegations that I make things up and exaggerate. Because I made and signed an affidavit in her divorce proceedings.

So, I was raped by someone my mother agreed to pay a lot of money to while going to an appointment that my mother set up, with someone who was not in her office at the time but was somewhere else establishing an alibi, an appointment to talk about something my mother claimed that I was doing to discredit something that I really did. (PS: My attorney has shared these last two paragraphs with the police.)

"Get out," she screamed.

So I did. Because of the divorce I can't go to my dad's. But I will be okay.

Madasheck,

Before I say anything else, I want to say that anger you're feeling is absolutely justified given how the adults in this situation are behaving. It already sounds like you're taking what steps you can to try and get legal recourse and maybe some sense of justice, which takes a tremendous amount of strength and is something you should be proud of yourself for doing, even though it's something you should never have had to do in the first place.

What would be a way we could support you right now? Too, I want to check, have you found a place to stay that's safe, like with a friend or family member you trust (or somewhere like a hotel)?

I'm safe, I have a nice cot in my warehouse, and my job keeps me busy. 26 months ago my grandparents and their cohort were beginning to feel the effects of COVID, so I set up a buying and delivery service for people for whom venturing out posed a heightened risk. Over the next two years, me, my best friend, and lately my brother, have grown the business from dry goods and supplies. We added limited frozen items, then fresh foodstuffs. Our client list has grown from the elderly, to the immunocompromised, transportationless (the county shut down its services), parents with young children, to anyone in our service area. We buy in bulk, break it down, package it per our customers demand and deliver it to their doorstep. The business started out in my grandparent's carport, moved three times as we expanded, and now we rent a warehouse.

Running the business has taught me far more than I ever learned in school: managing finances, regulations, taxes, insurance, human resources, marketing, sales, customer service, internal and external communication, negotiation, leadership, project management, delegation and time management. Our business attorney referred me to a colleague who is handling the many legal issues I am facing now, pushing a criminal prosecution, and preparing for several civil actions.

I don't tell anyone else how to act but I plan to fight, fight, fight, fight...surrender is not an option.

What an incredible business to create! And it sounds like it's inadvertently given you some supports and resources that mean you can address the assault and the fallout in the way that feels right to you, which is great to hear.

Are there ways we can support you in your fight to see some kind of justice?

Rated V - for very angry

I am glad to have a place where I can post without what I write being censored.

At it's heart rape is theft of control. Then being deleted from a different "survivors" site for profanity...'cause you can't use "naughty words" to describe a brutal rape is just too fucking perverse to contemplate. Or not being allowed to even post any details because I am 16-- see...a 16 year old can be raped, but it's supposedly illegal to discuss underage sex-- no, it's not-- the chickenshits just lie and hide behind fake laws because...I don't know...they are like my grandmother...

She keeps telling me that she knows what happened to me so I shouldn't talk about it...that I should worry about what others think...that people will wonder if it was my fault...as if, there I was, waiting to be born and an angel said, "penis or vagina," and I chose wrong...'cause you know...boys never get raped...

It was a tough weekend.

I knew that my mom set me up to be raped. No other explanation made sense. She and my counselor connived to put me in the counselor's office when everyone including the counselor was in the gym. Then the maintenance guy-- who as it turned out was clocked in at another school with his car parked under a security camera-- popped out and raped me. Later I would learn that the counselor drove him to the other school to clock out. I would not be surprised if my mother drove him to the high school to rape me.

At the hospital her concern was for the rapist, not her daughter. She said that he was a nice guy whom she hired to remodel her kitchen. I was a crazy, lying, $3.00 whore, who loved rough sex with guys I'd known for 90 seconds. That I had a habit of making false reports and that I not been raped, but was blaming her friend because one of my dozen boyfriends of the last few hours got carried away.

After I said something about some piece of evidence I had, my grandmother said that my mom said I was guessing and that I couldn't prove that my dad lied to police. I brought my box of evidence and laid the pieces out on my grand's dining room table. Medical reports from when my brother and I were examined after mom had assaulted us before. 911 call logs showing police and EMS dispatched to our house and police reports.

Official complaints when the cops wouldn't take reports-- official replies saying my mom and dad both told police nothing happened and that I was a liar-- funny those paramedics and doctors must have been liars too. Medical reports from the hospital, an OB, and a dentist after my rape. Copies of the inventory of the rape kit that described what was recovered and from where on my body.

I had copies of my mother's arrest report and the prosecutors letter agreeing to drop charges if mom wrote a letter of apology to me, agreed to get counseling, and made restitution to my grandmother for the phone...we all knew mom hadn't done the last two but I had a copy of the letter of apology-- the one dad says mom only signed to spare me from being arrested for making a false police report.

It was just too much for my grandfather who has normally been silent. My grandmother had been in denial, one item at a time she had simply believed her daughter, because believing me meant that her daughter was a monster. Believing her daughter meant that I was a hormonal teenager, smart, bored, and disrespectful, rebelling against authority. But the evidence was overwhelming.

That was Sunday, there was an explosion on Monday.

Grandfather summoned my father-- mom, his daughter was not invited-- the four of us sat down and looked at the evidence. Grandpa had already made a pile of all the times my father failed to protect his son-- my brother, grandpa's grandson. The cops would tell my brother to "tough it out, be a man, don't report your mom-- she's your mom" while simultaneously saying he was imagining things or exaggerating. (The sad fact is that mom hit him because he didn't hit back.)

Dad contradicted himself, then when grandpa got out more items, stuff about the rape...and we said that we were going to ask his lawyer and see if maybe a civil action was warranted...dad admitted that mom confessed to him that she organized my rape...

Well, according to dad, what my mom confessed to, and probably what mom told dad, was that she and my counselor-- who were already engaged in a smear campaign against me, trying to discredit anything I said-- had been trying to scare me. That they organized a "fake rape" where I would be grabbed, my wrists bound, my clothing torn, and tossed up onto my counselor's desk in her abandoned office. But another co-conspirator would wander in and the rapist would run away.

Their male friend would have an alibi-- he was clocked in elsewhere and the counselor would transport him-- the counselor would have an alibi. she was in the gym with staff and teachers. Plus, there wouldn't be a record of my appointment, my mother would deny there was one and I be terrified, or I would look crazy, or both.

Dad told my grandfather, because he was afraid that we might end up implicating my mom. Dad thought that they would be like him and abandon my brother and I to defend their daughter. But granddad said that my father needed to leave, and neither he nor my mom was welcome anymore.

My grandma was waivering...she tried to negotiate...then dad told me that I would be sorry if I repeated what I heard, dad said something derogatory and untrue about me and my brother and said he would repeat it. Grandpa called his bluff and the police simultaneously and reported everything my father had just told him.

Grandma isn't talking to me or grandpa, but she isn't talking to mom or dad either. Other than a few profanities that I didn't know grandma knew...

Grandpa is apologetic, saying he didn't know, which is true...my grandparents have always tried hard not to know.

I'm glad your grandpa was, at the very least, willing to confront your dad over all this to some degree (and report what he said; as you sadly already know, lots of people in power are very, very bad at believing survivors, so hopefully having things corroborated by your grandfather will make them more likely to listen)

Given your mom's behavior, not only in this incident but the fact she's been a danger to you and your brother in the past, how are you in terms of your ability to keep her from accessing you or knowing your whereabouts and schedules? And how are you feeling in terms of trying to navigate the legal aspects of reporting and pursuing a case against the people involved in all this? Are there people helping you navigate it or are you having to do it all on your own?

I also want to check in on how you're doing in terms of taking care of yourself right now. You're dealing not only with a significant amount of traumatic events, but also having to push really, really hard to get people to listen to you or do anything. That can lead to some serious, cumulative exhaustion, and in the midst of fighting so hard you still deserve breaks to care for yourself (however that looks to you).

Tuesday was busy.

Where I live, unless you are a lawyer, doctor, clergy, spouse, or other person the state grants privileged communication to you may legally record any conversation you are a party to. (The state considers the recording a third party breaking privilege.) I didn't tell grandpa but I recorded dad at our "conference." The district attorney now has audio of dad confessing to witnessing my mom assault me and my brother (on more than one occasion), lying to police, saying that he would commit perjury to protect my mom, and that he planned to slander me and my brother and make a false police report.

When I saw Grandpa an hour or so ago, he said that I shouldn't have done that. Then he asked if I had eaten, and he made me a ham and cheese sandwich-- grandpa's repertoire is fried eggs and bacon, sandwiches, or something off the grill-- and a hot k-cup of Starbucks. So, the admonition was pro-forma.

My brother is staying at my grandparents. I am staying at the warehouse but I am not alone, I have friends who rotate staying here and...well let's just say this is a rather rural area, trespassing or attempting to assault me here would be met with an appropriate level of force.

My therapy is action, my grandmother says I need something "more, to help me cope without being angry..."

I know that I am being snide, but really, they just want me to be quiet because I am bothering them. It's hard for them to be in a peaceful state of denial when they have to see and hear reality...

Maybe I could be medicated...you know...so I don't upset anyone with the truth.

Hey Madasheck -- you did say you were being snide but could there be some truth or genuine concern coming through with what your grandmother said to you? Sure, there could definitely be the motive of wanting someone else to deal with your rightfully intense emotions after this experience, but could therapy/more frequent therapy be something helpful? Something I do not agree with your grandmother on is that coping and being angry are separate states of being - anger is a very powerful and useful emotion to feel while healing and coping with something. A therapist wouldn't necessarily attempt to "cure" your anger. The same goes for medication, which likely would not be a heavy enough sedative that could alter your ability to feel or express emotions, which I think is a common misconception based on what we see in media. Is that something that concerns you?

I have come to understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me, my reaction is justified.

It's not normative because society values quiet over justice. It's democracy in action, three "valuable adult members of society" my mother, my counselor, and my rapist committed a felonious assault and sexual battery on me-- technically they also maimed me under the law because those two teeth won't grow back-- and a fourth ""valuable adult members of society" my father helped cover up the initial crime.

The cost to society to prosecute these four adults is significant, the cost to incarcerate them is significant, and then society loses the value of their work and the taxes they pay. I am one "insignificant 16-year-old member of society." I have a job and I pay taxes, but not nearly as much as the four people who raped me and covered it up. So, to the police and the district attorney-- who also wish to maintain the fiction that no crime occurs here-- the choice is clear.

In a best case scenario, the police do nothing. In the worst case scenario they sabotage prosecution, but aid the county's largest employer-- the school district-- by allowing the crime scene to be destroyed, not taking my statement, allowing the rapist to destroy any physical evidence on his body, and giving him plenty of time to be interviewed on his terms.

The only things that I have on my side is that my grandparents love me, the social workers at the department of social services like to pad their numbers-- putting my brother and I on a list while doing nothing-- the doctor at the hospital likes to pad his list, and the prosecuting attorney's cushy public welfare job is an elected office. There are other attorneys who could make his refusal to prosecute into a campaign issue at the next go-round.

Grandma says this is a horrible way to look at things. But the problem is that it is factually correct, not that I recognize it as being factually correct. The goddamned emperor IS naked.

I don't need to be sedated, medicated, or talked AT. I most especially don't need to be told how to feel, or patronized. I don't need someone to tell me I have a right to my feelings. I don't need someone to tell me to act within the law-- trust me, if the rule of law was suspended for 20 minutes I would react differently. I learn what is and is not legal and I act accordingly. The fact that my ex-parents, ex-school, and ex-church don't like what I am doing does not make it illegal.

Society wants me to sit down, shut up, and be quiet because fixing the problem is expensive and writing me off as defective is cheap. There are laws pertaining to school attendance, but I'm not welcome there. Or at church because I talk about what happened to me and it "just isn't an appropriate topic of conversation in public."

Well then, perhaps we can devote a whole day in the future to talk about it. Maybe February 30th, they'd like that.

I don't ever plan to return to school anyway-- not because I am traumatized-- but because I see it for what it is a big building full of people who see that it is in their best interest if I were dead or otherwise unable to pursue a civil lawsuit against them. Maybe qualified immunity is a good thing. Since I cannot sue the police, they don't have a motive to murder me.

Grandma says that's "paranoia," but definitionally paranoia is an "unfounded fear," my great concern-- not fear-- is rooted in reality. My ex-parents, ex-school, ex-church, and the police have made what they believe to be the rational economic choice to sacrifice me.

"Fear is an emotional charge to push away death. Concern encourages action towards improving and sustaining life." -Emmet Bradley

I can't "get over it" because it is not over. My ex-father thinks that it is a good tactical move to discredit and slander me to protect my ex-mother who by legal definition is a rapist. My ex-minister thinks its okay to include a rapist and an accessory after the fact, both of whom are also slanderers in the congregation, while excluding me. (I know we don't like the word victim-- but...)

The school district has decided not to renew the contracts of the counselor who lured me to her office or the maintenance worker who raped me there. But they did not even fire them. And unless I do something, they can both go and find another school to obtain employment at, like teacher / mass murderer Andrei Chikatilo, or a priest hopping from parish to parish.

They are all just too stupid (and I know we don't like that word but what else can I say) to comprehend that since they have decided that I am expendable in the name of cost-- I must cost them incrementally more than what they think they will save by writing me off. I must bankrupt them, I must make them spend all of their discretionary funds on an impossible legal defense. I must destroy their sources of income.

Roosevelt (and his successor) did not sit down with Tojo after Pearl Harbor. He had the AAF assassinate Yamamoto in New Guinea, reduced scores of the Emperor's cities to ashes, and saved the Prime Minister from suicide so he might dangle at the end of the hangman's noose.

Only with me...I don't believe that my Hirohito is divine...so my Chiyoda is a perfectly legitimate target for my "Little Boy."

Hey there.

I'm witnessing all that you've said here.

I do want to try one more time to ask what a few other staff has asked, but that I don't think you've answered, because I want to be sure we're doing our best to serve you here.

Can you fill us in on what kind of help or support you are looking for from us? Do you mostly (or even only) need someone to just witness all of this, or are you looking for something more?

Edited to add that it appears you have more than one account with us, and identify yourself very differently between them. We make clear in the user registration agreement this isn't okay to do here, for all the obvious reasons. So, for the time being, I need to put a stop on both your board accounts. You're welcome to contact us at feedbackATscarleteenDOTcom to try and clear this up if you'd like to keep posting here.