Rage *explicit*

I am full of rage. I feel it in every nerve in my body, every cell, strand of hair, limb, etc. It is all I feel. It is so intense it scares me and my biggest fear that comes with it is that I’ll snap at someone and hurt their feelings.

I am angry at everyone and everything. I am angry with the people of my religion and I shouldn’t be but I am. Every time I go to church I feel their thoughts, and I feel like screaming “If you knew something was wrong why the fuck didn’t you speak up?!?” I want to scream at all of them because they just don’t know what he did to me, they don’t know how bad it’s fucked me up. I feel like because I’m so close to being 18 they think I made a decision to be sexually involved with an older married man. But I didn’t want to be, and they don’t get it. Nobody fucking understands how fucked up this has me. I’m fucked up beyond comprehension. Lately just being in church makes me wanna cry and scream at the top of my lungs. Being alive makes me feel like this.

I stay in bed as much as possible. I only come out to bathe, get food, and do chores then it’s right back to my cave. I have headphones on constantly, I’m never not listening to music because as long as I’ve got something going into my brain, keeping it occupied, the monster is at bay. So I listen to music when I wake up, in the shower, when I eat, when I do chores, when I sleep.

I hate being touched, I hate being spoken to. I hate people right now. I hate myself right now. That’s a lot of fucking rage for one person. And it’s fucking exhausting.



“Count your blessings”

“Glass half full”

“Be grateful”

“There are people who support and love you”

Today my brother was at school and my rapist walked into his science class. And Noah did what I did 3 years ago, he walked away and called my mom. And she drove to the school and talked to the counselor, who decided to move Adin out of my brothers class.

I’m in bed right now, laying down because the mere mention of any of my rapists names send my nerves into a frenzy and I go numb, my brain wipes clean and all I can do is sit there and watch the horror movie playing behind my eyelids. Reliving each rape as if it’s for the first time. My mom just came in, reminding me for the third time in an hour that my brother handled it maturely and that I should think of it as a positive thing because it means my brother loves me and believes me and supports me. She said that it’s reassuring that the counselor was so sensitive to the situation.

Guess what? I don’t feel reassured. I don’t feel any sense of justice out of Adin’s class getting switched instead of my brother. I was raped. And my rapists inconvenienced class schedule is supposed to make me feel secure? Reassured? Avenged? No. Leave me alone.

I hate being told to be grateful or comforted by something so trivial. Jail time wouldn’t make me feel any sort of justice either. No one gets it, there is no restoring my peace of mind. There is NO rest for me, nothing could make me feel protected, avenged, no justice. An inconvenience to Adin won’t win me back my virginity, my sleep at night, my self confidence, peace of mind. So please don’t tell me to be reassured by my brothers actions, by a strangers actions.

Counting blessings is hard when you suck at math. Forgive me.

Happy Anniversary 

3 years ago on this day I was hovering over my bathroom sink, swallowing handfuls of hot tap water and generic pain killers. Slicing away delicate skin tracing veins. 3 years ago today I was sitting in the tub letting the water burn my skin, praying over my sins and mentally writing goodbye letters to everyone I loved. 3 years ago today I went to sleep, ready to never wake up. I was so worn out by all the bad things that I was ready to give up all the good that came with it, to spare myself anymore pain. I was so tired, I wanted to sleep forever. 

In three years, I have met thousands of people, loved few and lost many. I have been in dark places, I have been in safe places. I have helped and I have been helped. I have hurt and I have healed just to start the process over. I graduated early, I got a job, I fell in love, I learned what family is. I have felt beautiful and I have felt empty. In 3 years I have done great things and I have done horrible things.

3 years ago, I was dealing with a rape alone. I suppressed everything and I felt so incredibly isolated and detached from everything. 

Today, I am dealing with another rape. I am not alone, by any means. But I mentally? There is not a soul in sight. Mentally, I am alone. I can not suppress anything, it is all out in the open, I feel like an exposed nerve. I feel like I was turned inside out, I can not hide what I feel. My heart is on my sleeve that’s why my wrists are stained red. So really how far have I come? Happy Anniversary to me and those fucking pills. 


In a post I wrote a few days ago I mentioned I had a meeting with the investigator working my case. I had that meeting today but it turned out to be with the D.A. and she answered a lot of the questions I had.

At the moment, it looks like the case won’t go to trial. This is because of the likelihood of my monster accepting a deal, resolving the case without a trial. Going down quietly. If he were to take it to trial, he would get a more severe punishment and I would have to testify. 

As far as anyone knows, there are no other girls. But my mom is worried about his daughters, specifically his oldest because she looks like me and is his favorite. I know he is a sick man, a monster to me at times, but I don’t think he is so demented as to hurt his own child. But then again, I never thought he would hurt me. 

The D.A herself assured me there is no possibility of being charged with distributuon of child pornography, because of my pictures. The reason why I had this concern in the first place is because after the case was featured on the local news there were comments made by certain people online saying that I too should be charged with the same felony as my attacker because I sent the pictures he requested. That worried me. But the D.A assured me that was not a possibility and advised me to stay away from online content about the case because it attracts idiots similar to the ones that made that comment.

There is an active restraining order against my monster. But his attorney or any hired investigators working with him can contact me, I don’t have to talk to them if I don’t want to. 

I never asked why I was targeted. I don’t think anyone but my monster knows. I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance to find out.

Peanut and Dud 

I’ve talked about Adin, Isaac, my monster, etc. I think now would be a good time to start talking about some people that are a much more positive pain in the ass in my life. My siblings. 

I have 4 siblings in total. None of them are fully blood related to me, all of them are either half or step siblings. I have a half brother and step sister on my biological dad’s side. I have a step brother and half sister on my mom’s side. I am the oldest of the siblings on my mother’s side. 

I was 4 years old when Peanut was born. I was excited to have a little sister, I gave her the iconic nickname. The first ultrasound my mom brought home of her didn’t look at all like a human, it looked like a peanut and we didn’t have a name for her so I called her peanut and it stuck. At school and church she wouldnt respond to anything else so they had to call her that. She’s 13 now. And still introduces herself to strangers as Peanut.

Peanut has been the most solid friend I’ve ever had. She calls me out on any bull, and is never afraid to make tough calls in my best interest. Ever since she was a little girl she’s been looking out for me and I haven’t always been good to her. Anyone who ever picked on me in school had a first grader making threats in the school yard. Fast forward a few years and she was waking my mom up to tell her I was passed out on the floor in my room. Fast forward another few months and she’s standing over me in the bathroom, prying a razor out of my hand, begging me not to cut anymore. I’m crying as I write this because she’s done so much for me and I feel like I’ve done nothing but take away our mom from her and make her grow up faster and deal with it alone. 

She’s such an old soul, and I love that about her. She’s independent and introvert. I love my little sister, she’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met. I have not been there for her in the past but I’ll be damned if I don’t return the favor for her now, if I don’t look out for her in the toughest years of anyone’s life, teenhood. 

Peanut is growing up, she’s 13 now. And I see myself in her which worries me sometimes but I know she’s smart, and the best I can do is try to teach her what I know so that she can learn from my mistakes not through my mistakes. 

And the cause of my elevated blood pressure, throbbing forehead vein and occasional eye twitch, my brother.

Noah is 15. His pranks drive me absolutely insane to the point where I legit contemplate murder sometimes. He’s the epitome of an annoying little brother. He’s done everything from using my shower loofah to leaving his toenail clippings on my laptop mouse pad as a present for when I open it again. 

Me and Noah aren’t related by blood, only through adversity. We’ve both been through some crazy situations as kids in a split family. We both got one parent who loves us and another that doesn’t know how to love. Despite being a complete dud, he’s got substance for his age. He doesn’t always know how to channel his adversity, his anger but then again neither do I at times and usually we keep each other in sync, in balance. He bounces everything off with a joke, with an attitude and sometimes he makes it difficult to see where he’s really coming from when he does that. But like I said, we relate to each other so if anyone can catch when he’s really bothered or really hurting it’s me. I care about my brother. 

There are days where I want to kill my brother and sister, but put that aside and I’d kill for them, any day. My siblings drive me insane, but no one knows me like they do, no one has my back like they do. My peanut and dud.


I haven’t fallen asleep earlier than 2 A.M in months. I worry, I stress and I crumble, my brain feels like a tangled ball of yarn and I just want so desperately to untangle it all.

I am jobless at the moment which absolutely kills my pride, I like to be independent and help my family where I can. I like having my own money, not having to ask my mom when I need pads or shampoo. Taking my siblings out with me in the city. I like being able to tell my dad “I got this one” when my family goes out to eat. But I can’t do that anymore and it’s killing me. But on top of that, my dad lost his job a few weeks ago too. The both of us were the ones who brought in the money. We are struggling. It stresses me out so bad to see my family looking for ways to make it work. All I wanna do is contribute to my family again.

I have a meeting with the detective handling my case the day after tomorrow. I have so many questions. Will my case go to trial? Are there other girls my monster has attacked? Do I have to testify? Will I have to see his face? If I testify will they verbally attack me? Bring up my questionable decisions in the past? Paint me to look like a whore? Will I be charged with distributuon of child pornography because of the pictures of me? Why me? Did my monster ever say why he picked ME? 
About a month after the police showed up at my door in September, my Monsters face showed up on the 6 o’clock news. I has just come home from work, walked in the door on my way to my room when my little brother stopped me, “Hey Sophie watch this.” And he pressed play, and I saw his face. And my brother made jokes. And I walked away, into my room and didnt come out for what felt like days. My name wasn’t mentioned, under the protection of victim protection laws in California. But anyone that’s ever known me since I was 14 knows I was close to him. The reporter named my church, the location, date of attack, my age and gender, and that he mentored me because I was a depressed and troubled teen, vulnerable. They talked about how he knew me for 3 years, how I was molested on my way to a church activity, and the pictures. Several news stations picked up the stories. And when I walked into church the following Sunday, I knew they knew. They seemed shocked to see me. I’ve never missed a day of church in a very long time, and only when I’m gravely sick. I don’t know what they think, I haven’t spoken to anyone in months. I walk in as it starts, leave when it’s over. I fear the questions they have, the overwhelming concern, I fear their affection and understanding just as much as their potential judgements. 

I met my rapist, attacker, mentor, teacher, father, monster through the same religion that I live for. I cringe when I walk through those doors, the smell of the building, the sights, all take me back to a horrible day. I find it hard to breathe sometimes. But I sit down, I pray, and I listen. I do not blame God,  I do not blame my religion, I do not blame myself. 

My dog bit me 2 days ago. Broke skin, and bruised my hand and arm. He bit me because he was fighting my mom’s smaller dog and I tried pulling him off. I cried because 1) it hurt like hell and 2) I felt extremely betrayed. I made him sleep outside and I haven’t spent time with him since. I feel bad but I’m legit scared that he’ll bite me again if I touch him. Bentley was a gift from my boyfriend when I graduated high school, he was supposed to be both of ours but his “dad” isn’t around so that leaves me taking care of this dud. I love this dog even though he irritates me sometimes and even though he made me bleed. But I swear I’m this close to sending him away. And I doubt anyone who takes him will let him sleep in the bathtub like he likes to so he needs to watch that attitude.

These are the things on my mind tonight. I don’t feel like my problems have been solved just by writing about them in this post, but I do feel as though the yarn has loosened enough for me to unknot a few strings here.


I was wearing a black Cobra Starship t-shirt and jeans when Adin attacked me. I had on a white bra and panties. I was wearing a gunmetal grey shirt that looked like a dress when Isaac attacked me. I was wearing a floor length skirt with basketball shorts underneath and a grey scoop-necked t-shirt, I had on a beige bra and black panties and a pad for my period when my monster attacked me. Do you see what all of these have in common?

1) I threw away my favorite bands t shirt because it was stained with my innocence and traces of Adin. I threw away the shirt/dress I was wearing when Isaac attacked me because it smelled like he tasted, whisky and mint. And I didn’t want police to have his DNA at the time. The skirt and t-shirt I was wearing in September are currently in a garbage bag in my garage. Awaiting their destruction unless I need them for trial if that happens. 

2) All of it is irrelevant. Every word I just wrote about what I was wearing, and every previous word I have written in other posts about how I got there, what my  intentions were, and whether or not I fought back, is irrelevant. Doesn’t matter. To me it matters because it’s a part of my story but what I was wearing and whether or not I was willingly in the presence of my attackers does not change the fact that as humans they had the responsibility not to rape.

In my post Process I talked about the Bargaining stage of grief and how a survivor might start to think about the What Ifs or could have should have would have. I sometimes think about what I was wearing and how that could’ve contributed, but the words of my old therapist come back to me. “You could walk down the street naked and no one, not one damn person has the right to touch you.” And she was right. Circumstances, time, location, sobriety, sexual orientation etc. are irrelevant. Rape is rape. There is no explanation or excuse to be had for degrading and violating another human being. 

1 A.M thoughts

 I haven’t fallen asleep earlier than 2 A.M in like 3 months. So I lay awake, and I listen to sad music and I write and I reminisce. I think about the people I love. I think about my best friend and I try to think of my earliest memory of them. I pray. I think about what I’ll name my first son. I wonder if God has a favorite color, decide it’s blue then wonder if he likes rap, that debate lasts about 10 minutes. I think about my monster and wonder if he has nightmares of me too. 

I guess now would be a good time to say that I have only had contact with the people I live with  (parents, brother and sister) for the last 3 months. I haven’t talked to any of my friends in about 3 months for a few reasons. I haven’t talked to Sarah since she anonymously tipped the police about Sir without telling me. I’m not mad at her what so ever, I’m just not ready to talk about it. I think she’s giving me space and I’m just waiting for I don’t know what. I reached out to her a few hours ago on social media, she’s probably asleep though or celebrating Christmas so I don’t expect a reply for the next few days. I don’t know how that conversation will go, how do you thank someone for turning in your rapist? Should I send her a card? Sell her my soul? Like how does one go about thanking or repaying someone for that? I miss Sarah a lot, and I really do want to thank her for being strong when I couldn’t be.


I dabble in poetry, I used to be good at it. This was the first poem I wrote after a year long fit of writers block. It’s cynical, but I wrote it right after everything went down with my monster so that’s to be expected. A lot of references are made to details that occurred during the assault.


I don’t know who I can trust,

Is there anybody left?

See the ones I thought were safe to love

were worse off than the rest-

Stealthily robbing my peace of mind,

And when I tried to stop it all

you told me “not to hide” .

Now I’m not any body’s victim,

But of my own stupidity

Too distraught to see the truth-

Young, naive, and blind the deadly trinity.

I once thought the answers 

Lied in people, 

Safety in the ones to say

“I love you”

But the same ones declaring affection

Are the same ones tryna fuck you.

Everybody is after something,

We stop at nothing to attain.

But euphoria is temporary

and everything’s in vain 

No one is truly capable 

of innocence or honesty it seems 

And concepts like monogamy 

and trust are all just dreams.

I trusted you for years on end 

and never thought to question-

Never took you for the teaching type but “thank you” for the lesson.


The human brain processes grief in 5 stages. This theory is mostly used to depict how humans process the loss of a loved one, but it applies to trauma as well. 

1) Denial

It took me roughly a year to acknowledge each rape let alone start to process them. The first two rapes took a year to acknowledge and were less than a year apart. I would not acknowledge what happened because 1) lack of education of my rights and of rape itself and 2) trauma and shame. Like i said in my previous posts, I didn’t even know I was raped because I wasn’t educated on it. Later on though I refused therapy at my local rape crisis center so a lot of my healing took place at home between me and my mom and my regular therapist who I swear was sent from God himself. So because I wasn’t getting the right help, I was stuck in a place of denial for a long time. 

2) Anger 

Anger or irritability is associated with depression in adolescents and is often misinterpreted as having a bad attitude as was the case with me and my parents. . When I was initially in this phase with both rapes, I took it out on myself by cutting or burning and on others by screaming at them or insulting them. Neither was healthy or acceptable. I still find myself here a lot, in this stage of grief. I have moved past this stage but I often revisit this place and that’s okay. Anger when channeled is healthy. The danger in revisiting this place though is the risk of it getting out of hand, lashing out at others or myself. It’s taken me a long time to find healthy ways to cope with this stage and with the rape that took place a few months ago in September I am finding myself having to learn all over again. It is always there, some days it is all I can feel, others when it is manageable it sits just below the surface.

3) Bargaining

In processing and healing from a rape, Bargaining usually presents itself in the survivors thoughts. For me, I found myself thinking “Well if I didn’t leave the house then it wouldn’t have happened, if I didn’t let him inside he wouldn’t have raped me, if I stayed home that day he wouldn’t have gotten me alone.” This type of thinking will throw you into the deep end of insanity. Absolutely nothing can be gained from this type of thinking. This thought process can be influenced unintentionally from a well meaning person offering advice or an opinion or from a jackass who doesn’t understand that rape is an epidemic. Either way, it is best to be avoided however sometimes it seems impossible to escape ones thoughts. When I find myself thinking about “Would have, Could have, Should have” I turn it into, “What can I learn from this? If I am ever in a situation where someone is trying to get me alone what can I do to keep myself safe?” Redirecting negative thoughts during the Bargaining stage is helpful.

4) Depression

Depression, much like cancer is a disease. It grows and attacks us from the inside out, feeding on healthy parts of us. Similar to cancer there is no indefinite cure for depression, but there are ways to manage and cope. Most depression is temporary but left untreated can be chronic. During this phase is really important to combat depression with positivity and healthy coping Mechanisms. Shortly after my suicide attempt, I started taking antidepressants which helped, but combating depression didn’t stop at medication. To this day, when I don’t want to be touched, I have to force myself to hug my loved ones because I don’t want to become disassociative to touch altogether. To this day, I force myself to play with my dog, shower, eat, talk, feel. You can not stop living. 

5) Acceptance

I have accepted the things I have no control over. I have been raped, I have depression, I am angry and I am not where I want to be. But I am also working toward the things I can control. I am healing, I will get better, I will reach my goals in time. Acceptance does not mean that I condone what my rapists did to me, it means that I acknowledge it is not my shame to carry. Acceptance takes time, and this is a stage I drift in and out of as do many survivors but to any survivor out there, coping and healing, I urge you to keep fighting.