The Screaming Meanie

People used to call my mom that. From what I have heard she would throw tantrums where she would lie on her back kicking and screaming yelling, "get away from me!!!" and then "come back!!" That's kind of how I feel.

I went a little crazy on facebook. I was so angry and hurt because all these wonderful people, some of whom I barely knew (or in the case of the pages of my friends who shared my blog - I didn't know at all), were offering me so much love and support for speaking out while my family remained silent. Whenever I tell anyone now-a-days, they always ask me why my family continued to associate with him for all these years. I never have an answer. I know some of them don't want to turn their back on family, but that feels like turning their back on me and who would want to consider such a monster a part of their family? And why did it only stop when I started taking a stand? Why were there years of Christmases after they knew with him there? Why did they beg me to stay when I told them I wanted to leave before he got there? I want them to answer this. It doesn't matter if I said I was ok, it should not have been ok with them.

 Finally, an aunt of mine broke the ice and very bravely commented on my outrage post. She didn't say it outright, but she was hurt. I hadn't really considered her fully part of my anger until she, like the rest of them didn't comment on my blog for support. People who hadn't known until they read the post were immediately giving me support and people who had known for 10-12 years were saying nothing. I thought that because she was across the country and didn't have any event to invite him to that her being friends with him on Facebook and not telling him directly that what he did was wrong meant that she didn't care enough to fight for me. I was hurt. I wish I hadn't hurt her though.

Then she told me things I hadn't known, like that she was only friends with him to make sure he wasn't talking about me. (I guess if Zac is reading this the cat is out of the bag, but that's ok with me) I didn't know what to say about that. I didn't really want to spy on him. What he says doesn't matter to me...but I do want to know if anyone else in my life is agreeing with him. I do want to spy on them....but I think the easier thing to do, is to just make people choose and stay away from those who still choose to associate with him, even on facebook.

She told me other things too, like that she anonymously reported him. I'm not surprised that it wasn't followed up on appropriately by the authorities...rape isn't taken nearly seriously enough.

I did tell people not to do anything, not to report it, not to tell. I begged them actually. I was 18 and 19 when I was telling people and it had only just ended the winter/spring before I was 19 (my birthday is in Aug). I was too messed up to understand what I was costing myself and others by not even trying to get him on a sex offender list. I was too scared of what might happen and I don't really have a lot of trust or faith in authority figures. We had a neighbor in our apartment complex whose girlfriend called the cops because he was suicidal. They shot his dog. I was like, "well if he wasn't suicidal before...." Now I didn't have a dog to shoot, and I wasn't suicidal, but the unpredictability of it terrified me. I had no idea what would happen. Would they be the types of cops who listened and cared or the type who wore the badge just to get the authority and the gun? Those cops would relate to my rapist more than me. Would they just shrug and tell me this was a "he said she said" case and there was nothing they could do? Or would there be a huge trial where I would have to stand up and tell everyone what happened? Admit to everyone that I said it was ok? That I didn't fight? That even though I said no, I still ended up giving in so I had let it all happen? And even worse, that it had started to be ok, that it really was just "whatever"? The very last time he had sex with me he had pulled out and came in my pants. He patted my butt then laughed and said that was too mean, he would get me some paper towels. I was so numb I had no idea that it even was mean. It was all just "whatever". If forcing me to have sex with him wasn't mean, why was it mean to cum in my pants? I needed someone to know everything I said and did and tell me none of it was my fault, but I was too scared to give a voice to that...too ashamed that they might say the opposite because I thought the opposite. In my mind, I let it all happen, and if everyone knew all the details, they might think that too.

I was dating my first husband at the time and here's where I need to take a step back. My first husband was Zac's best friend that I mentioned in the Party post. I'll give you a second to let that sink in....he was Zac's best friend. At the party, he had thought I was hitting on him because I drunkenly told him 5 or 6 times how great his hair looked since he had cut it short and gotten rid of the Jesus look. An understandable misunderstanding if there ever was one. He told one of my cousins, or they caught him looking at me and teased him, something like that....and my cousin told me on a night of another party where I was going to see him again. The spider monkey who had been impressed with Zac's tipping was out of my life and I had a sudden inspiration. This was Zac's best friend whom he loved...the only person Zac loved, many said. The moral compass who could influence Zac to make him less evil. Zac would not want this best friend of his to find out what he was doing to me. If this best friend of his loved me, he would protect me better than anyone else!

We met him at the bowling alley and he was standing in line to pay for everyone's rentals while they hung out and drank beer at a table. If I knew now what I knew then, I would have seen that they had confused goodness and being a pushover. I didn't know, and I confused the two myself. I offered to wait with him and we talked a little. He was really nice. He was nine years older than me so he seemed so different from nice guys in high school...he wasn't afraid to talk to me and seemed so smart and witty. I started to feel guilty. He was a really nice guy and I couldn't just use him....but then he started to win at bowling and it was PISSING. ZAC. OFF. Every time he bowled a strike, Zac got madder and madder and it was intoxicating! I felt so much love and lust for this person who was making Zac feel powerless and small. I wanted him. From my first husband's perspective, here was that hot chick from the party who seemed to like him and practically radiated every time he made a strike. Poor guy. He told me that he couldn't help falling in love with those smiles and with all the emotions that were behind him, I can't blame him.

After he kicked Zac's butt at bowling, the guys all decided the next stop was a strip club. My cousin who had given me a ride wasn't interested though and said he was going home. This was my chance. I turned to Zac's best friend and asked if he would give me a ride. He said sure and Zac was livid. "She voted for Bush, you know!" His best friend shrugged and grinned and went to return his shoes and I felt elated. (Also, if I knew then what I knew now, I would have known what a big deal that was...I am so ashamed of my fundamentalist christian vote.) I had to stay with this man with this power to hurt Zac. I should have stayed with him right then because before I turned away Zac grabbed me. "I will let you go and I will pay your forty dollar entry fee (I was under 21) if you have sex with me tonight."

As I saw things, Zac was offering to sell me his best friend for one last time. I wish I had seen what Zac saw though, which was that he was going to lose his best friend either way and this was his last chance.

Why didn't I just go home afterwards? Why didn't I break that agreement? Because if I did, I thought Zac would have talked his best friend out of liking me. I thought he would say horrible things about me and tell him what a slut I was and that this nice guy would run screaming for the hills. I was wrong. Agreement or not, Zac and his parents said all those things to my first husband anyway and he simply ignored them.