Dear Rapist(s),
How are things for you? I bet you have a lovely family now. Are you married? Do you have children? Do you have grandchildren? I am sure they are all beautiful and growing so fast. I would imagine you probably don’t think of me as much as I think of you. You probably don’t even think of me at all. I think of you every day.
In case there is any possibility that you were thinking about me, let me tell you how I am doing. I am married now. I raised two children, and have three lovely grandchildren with one on the way. I have traveled far and wide and had so many wonderful adventures, yet I still think of you.
While reading this you are probably thinking I must really miss you. Quite the opposite, I don’t miss you at all. Granted, I try to push you away and forget about you, but somehow you always creep back into my mind. The most painful time is in the early hours of the morning. When it is so quiet you can just about hear a pin drop. I think back to that fateful day when we first met.
It has been so long since we last saw each other. Even though it was so long ago it still feels like it was yesterday when we first got together. I will never forget when we first met. You were so much older then me. I was just a little girl. I was no more then 12 years old. I was playing with toys and my imagination. It was only a short few years ago that I just learned to walk, in life, let alone need to try to run from you.
The day we met I was wearing my little clothes from Mother Care. They were brand new, sent from my mother in England. It was a new shop in London, it had so many amazing clothes and toys. I always dreamed what the store looked like. I wanted to visit it so bad. In fact, while you were holding me down raping me, that is all I could picture in my mind.
I remember grasping onto the flax bushes screaming and hollering. I can still remember seeing the Mother Care logo from the clothes that you ripped off of me. Sure you knew what you were doing was wrong. You couldn’t say that it was right. I was screaming so loud, but you covered my mouth to muffle my screams. Thinking about it now, I don’t think anyone would have heard me anyway as I lived out in the country.
Then you left me. You left me crying, injured, torn and hurt. I was sitting on the ground, and trying to figure out what I could tell my Nanny about the torn clothes. I was so worried about the trouble I would get into. I was certain that my mother would never send me any more clothes or toys, out of disappointment.
I will never forget those days, over and over you met me at the flax bushes. It happened for years. Sometimes I would run but you always caught me. Your cold hands, and horrible breath, still frozen in my mind like a stone etching engraved on a cave wall. Your horrible grunts and disgusting sweat dripping from your brow will never be forgotten. How I wish a fairy godmother could appear from the sky and carry you upwards, away, and down into the fire pit of hell where you belong. All I could think about was my mother, and why she left. Where was she when I needed her? I would have gladly traded my nice Mother care clothes for, well, for my mother.
Now as you sit there and read this. Do you remember me? Do you now see what you have done? When you sit there during your holiday meals, relaxing and having fun with your family, can you see me? Well if you don’t, won’t or can’t it doesn’t matter.
I am coming for you. I am going to tell the world what you have done. I am going to protect the others that might be hurt because of you. In fact, I am hoping that others who have been hurt by you will come forward as well. You will feel our pain. You will feel it as they arrest you and place the ice cold handcuffs on your hands and carry you away.
I wish you well on your future journey. I only hope you will find solace, like I have to do every day to keep you away from me. I even have therapy to help get over this and yet it stills stays frozen.
I look forward to your response, and we shall meet soon.
Regards,
Dorothy Maude
Dorothy Age 4 with Grandmother Dolly
Hi Dorothy,
I have been through a similar situation. I was to scared to tell anyone about it. It happened to me over 40 years ago and I was only a little girl. I am going to report it, but it is not easy as live in South Africa. I am black and the persons who did this to me are white danish. I think that reading your posts helps me get through the day. Keep on writing as it helps us to think better. You are a good woman love to hugs.
Sam
thank you very much sam and may god bless you always