L
Sorry about how long it is.
I decided to write my testimony about myself. The Lord has done a wonderful work in my life lately; I have been so depressed, angry and bitter. Though it is a little hard to blame myself for it, since I had been around evil influences for one year. I do not know quite how I am going to begin this post, since I have never tried to put my life story on paper/screen before, nor have I written many stories. three years ago (2010), I was walking home from school. I was accustomed to going down an alley (for three years I'd done it) to get to school and back home. Though I did not have to take this alley, and it took longer to get home, I enjoyed it. It was perfect solitude and peace, not once had I ever seen one person in the alley. So I thought of this alley as “My Alley”.
This day was the last day of school for the summer, and I was excited because the next day I would go on my first date with my “crush”. My parents were fairly strict, and I'd never been allowed on a date before, but it was two weeks after my thirteenth birthday, and my mom was going with us anyways (I was not allowed to go alone).
On my thirteenth birthday, I received a purity ring, which I wore wherever I went, I saw it as a testimony. Purity was very important to me.
As I was walking down the alley, I saw a black car parked to the side of the road, I thought it was very strange since I'd never seen anyone there before. But I decided just to pass on the other side. I walked a little bit past the car, when to my right, a man came out of the bushes and he had a pistol pointed at me. My mind was going berserk, I didn't know if I should run or stay, but I did scream with all the lung power in me. I figured if I ran he would shoot, but it might be better to be shot dead than have to endure whatever he might do to me. I knew he was coming closer, and my mind was still going in circles, and the next thing I knew is he had his hand clamped over my mouth.
His gun was pointed at me, and all I could focus on was the gun, and I was so scared.
I had been carrying my backpack, which contained my school books and a school laptop. I was also carrying a purse, wearing a watch, a diamond ring, a necklace and my purity ring. He took all of these; my purse contained sixty dollars I had earned from a local talent show; besides other jewelry, it also contained my camera, cellphone, Ipod, photo albums, ID card and my house key, among other things.
He forced me back to the car, and opened the trunk and told me to get in it. I felt more helpless and weak than I had ever felt before as I climbed into the trunk. He gagged me and tied me up, and shut the trunk lid. I was begging God to help me, I was so, so scared, and I could only imagine what things he might do to me. I had heard enough stories, but I never thought it could or would happen to me.
I have no idea how many hours we drove, but I couldn't fall asleep for a long, long time, I was so distressed and scared. But at last I did fall asleep, and when I awoke, I did not know whether it was morning or night – we were still driving; and we drove for at least two more days. I was sweating half to death, and very hungry and thirsty. When we arrived at his destination, the trunk lid was opened and I hardly looked at the man, the fresh air was good. But it was night, so it was dark outside, which was a disappointment to me. He took my gag off and untied my feet and hands, and told me to get out of the trunk. I looked all around me, it seemed I was in the country because there were no streetlights, and from what I could tell, there was only one house. Which was his house. I was finally able to try and wipe the sweat off my face, but both my hands soon became wet; it seemed the sweat would never go away, nor the freely flowing tears. Then, from the passenger side of the car, the door opened, and out came another man. I had never realized that there was another man with him. They led me to the door of the house, and one of the men unlocked it while the other held onto me.
The man who unlocked the door, stepped inside and flicked a light on, and looking around me, everything was a disaster and totally filthy. I wondered if they were homosexuals. The way they acted, talked (effeminately), and how filthy and unclean the whole house was. That was confirmed a few days later.
That night, I was raped, by the man who forced me into the car. And the best way to describe what I felt was this: I was terrified, humiliated and angry. If I had had my purity ring still, I most likely would have thrown it across the floor. I was no longer pure, and I was embarrassed.
Almost every night, a bunch of other men would come over to the house and drink, buy, sell or do drugs. Sometimes, when those men were over, they would sexually abuse me. Sometimes physically. Twice, when my captors were having a relationship, they allowed one of those men to rape me. Even if the men weren't over, my captors would still drink or do drugs, and they could go crazy. One time, I was throwing up and had a terrible headache, and asked one of them if they had aspirin, he was drunk and blew up. He abused me terribly. One thing I was afraid of was getting AIDS through him when he raped me, because homos can get aids or pass it to others. I was very fearful of that. And I could not prevent it one bit.
They also swore terribly; they swore the worst things; I'd never heard such profanities. Some of the “stronger” words I had heard were nothing compared to what these men would say. When their buddies were over, they would tell dirty jokes, a lot about women. And I had to always be in the same room.
One day, one of my captors had an appointment at the hospital for a check-up. And for some strange reason, he took me with him. He had me go in the room where he was having his check-up so I couldn't get out of his sight. But when we left the room, and went out into an open space where there were a lot of doctors, I saw a young nurse drinking coffee, and sitting down. I was hoping this was my chance, because my captor was talking with a doctor about his test results. I tried to slip away as unnoticed as possible, and went over to the nurse. I gave her a piece of paper that I had written out with the address and what was going on, just in case I ever got the chance. I had tears coming to my eyes when she had read it and looked up at me with questioning eyes and I turned back and went back to where he was talking to the doctor. Then, we left the hospital and as we were driving back to his house, I felt my stomach starting to feel sick, and a headache was coming. He asked me what I was doing talking to the nurse, and I told him we were just talking about the weather and different patients. He asked me if I had told her anything about what was going on with me, and I swore several times that I didn't, I was scared he might do something bad to me. Even though I had. He seemed to have believed me. But about an hour after we got to his house, I was sitting down, and he came bursting into the room. He came up to me and started shaking me violently and swearing left and right and asked me what I was really talking to the nurse about. And trying to contain myself, I told him all we were talking about was weather and some of the patients. Then he stopped shaking me and slapped my face, and asked me what I had handed her. I had no excuse ready, I was frozen with fear since I thought he had not seen me hand it. I tried to convince him I didn't hand her anything, but he wouldn't take that. My other captor was screaming at me to tell him what I had handed her. But I wouldn't let it slip. He was fuming, and he started kicking me in the stomach and face. Then my other captor pulled his pistol out and shot me right in the spine. I suppose to get rid of me while they escaped. He didn't stop there, though, he shot me once in the back, and once in the leg and they left me there to die. And I passed out and the next thing I know it was a week later, I had woken up in a hospital bed and I had been unresponsive for three days. Four of those days I had been unconscious of what was going on and I was trying to get up and kept struggling with the nurses who came in to help me out. But at last I had woken up fully.
I had been with those men one year. I had been raped eleven times.
When I first awoke, I felt a hand holding mine, and my eyes shifted to the side of me; there was my older brother who had been in Afghanistan before I was kidnapped. He was holding my frail, thin hand and kneeling beside the bed, and I knew he was praying.
My brother and I had always been very, very close.
I squeezed his hand a little, and he looked up, with tears in his eyes. I tried to sit up, but felt a restraint on my chest and arms, only to look down and see that I was strapped to the bed. My brother called a nurse in and asked if I could be unstrapped. Which, after seeing me not out of my mind, she unstrapped me. I sat up and he stood up and we embraced; we embraced for a long, long time, both of us crying. Then, he pulled up a chair by my bed and he started to talk, my jaw was broken, so I could not; I just wrote on paper. They couldn't do surgery until I was doing better in my health. Apparently, the SWAT team had arrived about two or three hours after the men left, and found me unconscious lying in a pool of blood. They found the men at another house about seven miles away, with a bunch of other guys; as usual, they had been drinking. My parents had come every day, and they were staying at a motel. My brother told me he had gotten leave as soon as he could and come home as soon as he could when he heard I went missing, and after a month, he went back. But he was on leave when he found out I had been found. After five months of waiting for me to turn up, my father quit pastoring and moved the family to another state. When I had been kidnapped, my kidnappers had taken me three states away from home. And when my family moved, I was four states away. And apparently, the men had been secretly following me to and from school for a long time. And I never knew it.
After a nurse had him go out for a little bit, she told me he had been there by my bed that whole week, and only went out when he was told, and ate right there by my bedside. I always knew he loved me – but not that much!
About an hour later, he came back with mom and dad, and it was so, so wonderful to see them again. I didn't think I'd ever see my family again. And that day, I didn't think I'd stop crying, either.
Later, I found out my purse and backpack had been found, but the laptop and jewelry and electronics were all missing. So was my photo album. Which contained a picture of my brother and I on my birthday, before he went to Afghanistan. And the only other copy was on my camera, which was not found, either.
The worst thing was that when I had been shot in the cervical part of my spine, I became paralyzed from my waist down. It was very frustrating. My therapist told me I might be able to walk again someday if I kept having therapy done; but I had no heart to try.
They did tests the next day to see if I had any brain damage. I had minor brain damage; I have noticed lately that when someone is telling me something simple, I have to have them repeat it two or three more times to understand it. And I used to be a lot better at math.
They also did a test for HIV, which if I had had it, would have gradually turned into AIDS. I praise God I didn't have it. It was such a relief!
I had to have the jaw surgery done two weeks later.
I also had to have stitches in a several places.
My mom had to leave four days after I woke up, because her work had only given her two weeks, and she had to drive all the way back to home.
My father and brother were constantly there for me; and every time my dad saw me, I could just tell he was really angry. I can only imagine the thoughts he was thinking; I knew him all too well. He was wishing he could blow those men’s brains out. But I felt the same way.
Bitterness and anger and hate were already in my heart; though I had had hate and anger while I was being abused, the realization of the things that happened to me hit me when I was able to think about it more. I found myself cursing sometimes. And soon I was as miserable as I could be; I found myself bitter, angry and hateful. Instead of using my time to thank God for what he has done for me; instead of praying and seeking his face; instead of trying to forgive, all I could feel was more and more anger and hate growing in me. I swore more and more frequently; before I was kidnapped, I wouldn't have even used the word “gee”. I was getting depressed; having ups and downs all the time. I was tired of the hospital, and when I was finally allowed home, I still had lots of doctors appointments. When I started going back to school after spring break was over (2012), I didn't tell anyone what had happened to me. I couldn't pay attention to school, and kept getting bad grades, which the children who got good grades showed it off and made fun of me. They constantly jeered at my bad grades, “ugly face”, my total “un-socialization”, and how “uncool” I was, and the fact that I was unable to walk.
For a long time, whenever we went to church and a man either came to say hi, or sat near us in church, I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown and had to go sit at the back of the church by myself. Before long, my brother had to go back to Afghanistan, and I just wanted to die when he said he had to. I couldn't stand the thought of him leaving again. After he did leave for Afghanistan, I was more lonely than ever; my other older brother was in college, my older sister was married and all my younger siblings didn’t really understand what was going on, and they hung out with their own friends. My mom was drowning out all her pain into her work, and my dad had his own job, too. I saw no reason to keep living, as I was unhappy, and so I attempted suicide one day with a knife; after waking up in the hospital yet again, I realized that I had been given a second chance. God actually spoke to my heart as I was lying there, I have a purpose for you. And I realized that God really does have a purpose for me and that if I threw away my life, I would be hurting others as well. Even after that, I still was tempted to end my life, though I didn’t attempt it again. I still used bad language some, out of sheer habit. My parents had gotten me to counselling a few times, but it was shallow, and I needed something deeper. I started reading the bible whenever I had time, and seeking God’s face; when I started doing that, I realized just how meaningful our life is supposed to be. My eyes were opened to the beauty of Jesus, and I was able to have such sweet fellowship with him. For the first time in my whole life, I looked forward to reading the bible and praying. And now, Praise God Almighty, I am a whole new person --- a person who has her downs, but who overcomes them through Christ.
I decided to write my testimony about myself. The Lord has done a wonderful work in my life lately; I have been so depressed, angry and bitter. Though it is a little hard to blame myself for it, since I had been around evil influences for one year. I do not know quite how I am going to begin this post, since I have never tried to put my life story on paper/screen before, nor have I written many stories. three years ago (2010), I was walking home from school. I was accustomed to going down an alley (for three years I'd done it) to get to school and back home. Though I did not have to take this alley, and it took longer to get home, I enjoyed it. It was perfect solitude and peace, not once had I ever seen one person in the alley. So I thought of this alley as “My Alley”.
This day was the last day of school for the summer, and I was excited because the next day I would go on my first date with my “crush”. My parents were fairly strict, and I'd never been allowed on a date before, but it was two weeks after my thirteenth birthday, and my mom was going with us anyways (I was not allowed to go alone).
On my thirteenth birthday, I received a purity ring, which I wore wherever I went, I saw it as a testimony. Purity was very important to me.
As I was walking down the alley, I saw a black car parked to the side of the road, I thought it was very strange since I'd never seen anyone there before. But I decided just to pass on the other side. I walked a little bit past the car, when to my right, a man came out of the bushes and he had a pistol pointed at me. My mind was going berserk, I didn't know if I should run or stay, but I did scream with all the lung power in me. I figured if I ran he would shoot, but it might be better to be shot dead than have to endure whatever he might do to me. I knew he was coming closer, and my mind was still going in circles, and the next thing I knew is he had his hand clamped over my mouth.
His gun was pointed at me, and all I could focus on was the gun, and I was so scared.
I had been carrying my backpack, which contained my school books and a school laptop. I was also carrying a purse, wearing a watch, a diamond ring, a necklace and my purity ring. He took all of these; my purse contained sixty dollars I had earned from a local talent show; besides other jewelry, it also contained my camera, cellphone, Ipod, photo albums, ID card and my house key, among other things.
He forced me back to the car, and opened the trunk and told me to get in it. I felt more helpless and weak than I had ever felt before as I climbed into the trunk. He gagged me and tied me up, and shut the trunk lid. I was begging God to help me, I was so, so scared, and I could only imagine what things he might do to me. I had heard enough stories, but I never thought it could or would happen to me.
I have no idea how many hours we drove, but I couldn't fall asleep for a long, long time, I was so distressed and scared. But at last I did fall asleep, and when I awoke, I did not know whether it was morning or night – we were still driving; and we drove for at least two more days. I was sweating half to death, and very hungry and thirsty. When we arrived at his destination, the trunk lid was opened and I hardly looked at the man, the fresh air was good. But it was night, so it was dark outside, which was a disappointment to me. He took my gag off and untied my feet and hands, and told me to get out of the trunk. I looked all around me, it seemed I was in the country because there were no streetlights, and from what I could tell, there was only one house. Which was his house. I was finally able to try and wipe the sweat off my face, but both my hands soon became wet; it seemed the sweat would never go away, nor the freely flowing tears. Then, from the passenger side of the car, the door opened, and out came another man. I had never realized that there was another man with him. They led me to the door of the house, and one of the men unlocked it while the other held onto me.
The man who unlocked the door, stepped inside and flicked a light on, and looking around me, everything was a disaster and totally filthy. I wondered if they were homosexuals. The way they acted, talked (effeminately), and how filthy and unclean the whole house was. That was confirmed a few days later.
That night, I was raped, by the man who forced me into the car. And the best way to describe what I felt was this: I was terrified, humiliated and angry. If I had had my purity ring still, I most likely would have thrown it across the floor. I was no longer pure, and I was embarrassed.
Almost every night, a bunch of other men would come over to the house and drink, buy, sell or do drugs. Sometimes, when those men were over, they would sexually abuse me. Sometimes physically. Twice, when my captors were having a relationship, they allowed one of those men to rape me. Even if the men weren't over, my captors would still drink or do drugs, and they could go crazy. One time, I was throwing up and had a terrible headache, and asked one of them if they had aspirin, he was drunk and blew up. He abused me terribly. One thing I was afraid of was getting AIDS through him when he raped me, because homos can get aids or pass it to others. I was very fearful of that. And I could not prevent it one bit.
They also swore terribly; they swore the worst things; I'd never heard such profanities. Some of the “stronger” words I had heard were nothing compared to what these men would say. When their buddies were over, they would tell dirty jokes, a lot about women. And I had to always be in the same room.
One day, one of my captors had an appointment at the hospital for a check-up. And for some strange reason, he took me with him. He had me go in the room where he was having his check-up so I couldn't get out of his sight. But when we left the room, and went out into an open space where there were a lot of doctors, I saw a young nurse drinking coffee, and sitting down. I was hoping this was my chance, because my captor was talking with a doctor about his test results. I tried to slip away as unnoticed as possible, and went over to the nurse. I gave her a piece of paper that I had written out with the address and what was going on, just in case I ever got the chance. I had tears coming to my eyes when she had read it and looked up at me with questioning eyes and I turned back and went back to where he was talking to the doctor. Then, we left the hospital and as we were driving back to his house, I felt my stomach starting to feel sick, and a headache was coming. He asked me what I was doing talking to the nurse, and I told him we were just talking about the weather and different patients. He asked me if I had told her anything about what was going on with me, and I swore several times that I didn't, I was scared he might do something bad to me. Even though I had. He seemed to have believed me. But about an hour after we got to his house, I was sitting down, and he came bursting into the room. He came up to me and started shaking me violently and swearing left and right and asked me what I was really talking to the nurse about. And trying to contain myself, I told him all we were talking about was weather and some of the patients. Then he stopped shaking me and slapped my face, and asked me what I had handed her. I had no excuse ready, I was frozen with fear since I thought he had not seen me hand it. I tried to convince him I didn't hand her anything, but he wouldn't take that. My other captor was screaming at me to tell him what I had handed her. But I wouldn't let it slip. He was fuming, and he started kicking me in the stomach and face. Then my other captor pulled his pistol out and shot me right in the spine. I suppose to get rid of me while they escaped. He didn't stop there, though, he shot me once in the back, and once in the leg and they left me there to die. And I passed out and the next thing I know it was a week later, I had woken up in a hospital bed and I had been unresponsive for three days. Four of those days I had been unconscious of what was going on and I was trying to get up and kept struggling with the nurses who came in to help me out. But at last I had woken up fully.
I had been with those men one year. I had been raped eleven times.
When I first awoke, I felt a hand holding mine, and my eyes shifted to the side of me; there was my older brother who had been in Afghanistan before I was kidnapped. He was holding my frail, thin hand and kneeling beside the bed, and I knew he was praying.
My brother and I had always been very, very close.
I squeezed his hand a little, and he looked up, with tears in his eyes. I tried to sit up, but felt a restraint on my chest and arms, only to look down and see that I was strapped to the bed. My brother called a nurse in and asked if I could be unstrapped. Which, after seeing me not out of my mind, she unstrapped me. I sat up and he stood up and we embraced; we embraced for a long, long time, both of us crying. Then, he pulled up a chair by my bed and he started to talk, my jaw was broken, so I could not; I just wrote on paper. They couldn't do surgery until I was doing better in my health. Apparently, the SWAT team had arrived about two or three hours after the men left, and found me unconscious lying in a pool of blood. They found the men at another house about seven miles away, with a bunch of other guys; as usual, they had been drinking. My parents had come every day, and they were staying at a motel. My brother told me he had gotten leave as soon as he could and come home as soon as he could when he heard I went missing, and after a month, he went back. But he was on leave when he found out I had been found. After five months of waiting for me to turn up, my father quit pastoring and moved the family to another state. When I had been kidnapped, my kidnappers had taken me three states away from home. And when my family moved, I was four states away. And apparently, the men had been secretly following me to and from school for a long time. And I never knew it.
After a nurse had him go out for a little bit, she told me he had been there by my bed that whole week, and only went out when he was told, and ate right there by my bedside. I always knew he loved me – but not that much!
About an hour later, he came back with mom and dad, and it was so, so wonderful to see them again. I didn't think I'd ever see my family again. And that day, I didn't think I'd stop crying, either.
Later, I found out my purse and backpack had been found, but the laptop and jewelry and electronics were all missing. So was my photo album. Which contained a picture of my brother and I on my birthday, before he went to Afghanistan. And the only other copy was on my camera, which was not found, either.
The worst thing was that when I had been shot in the cervical part of my spine, I became paralyzed from my waist down. It was very frustrating. My therapist told me I might be able to walk again someday if I kept having therapy done; but I had no heart to try.
They did tests the next day to see if I had any brain damage. I had minor brain damage; I have noticed lately that when someone is telling me something simple, I have to have them repeat it two or three more times to understand it. And I used to be a lot better at math.
They also did a test for HIV, which if I had had it, would have gradually turned into AIDS. I praise God I didn't have it. It was such a relief!
I had to have the jaw surgery done two weeks later.
I also had to have stitches in a several places.
My mom had to leave four days after I woke up, because her work had only given her two weeks, and she had to drive all the way back to home.
My father and brother were constantly there for me; and every time my dad saw me, I could just tell he was really angry. I can only imagine the thoughts he was thinking; I knew him all too well. He was wishing he could blow those men’s brains out. But I felt the same way.
Bitterness and anger and hate were already in my heart; though I had had hate and anger while I was being abused, the realization of the things that happened to me hit me when I was able to think about it more. I found myself cursing sometimes. And soon I was as miserable as I could be; I found myself bitter, angry and hateful. Instead of using my time to thank God for what he has done for me; instead of praying and seeking his face; instead of trying to forgive, all I could feel was more and more anger and hate growing in me. I swore more and more frequently; before I was kidnapped, I wouldn't have even used the word “gee”. I was getting depressed; having ups and downs all the time. I was tired of the hospital, and when I was finally allowed home, I still had lots of doctors appointments. When I started going back to school after spring break was over (2012), I didn't tell anyone what had happened to me. I couldn't pay attention to school, and kept getting bad grades, which the children who got good grades showed it off and made fun of me. They constantly jeered at my bad grades, “ugly face”, my total “un-socialization”, and how “uncool” I was, and the fact that I was unable to walk.
For a long time, whenever we went to church and a man either came to say hi, or sat near us in church, I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown and had to go sit at the back of the church by myself. Before long, my brother had to go back to Afghanistan, and I just wanted to die when he said he had to. I couldn't stand the thought of him leaving again. After he did leave for Afghanistan, I was more lonely than ever; my other older brother was in college, my older sister was married and all my younger siblings didn’t really understand what was going on, and they hung out with their own friends. My mom was drowning out all her pain into her work, and my dad had his own job, too. I saw no reason to keep living, as I was unhappy, and so I attempted suicide one day with a knife; after waking up in the hospital yet again, I realized that I had been given a second chance. God actually spoke to my heart as I was lying there, I have a purpose for you. And I realized that God really does have a purpose for me and that if I threw away my life, I would be hurting others as well. Even after that, I still was tempted to end my life, though I didn’t attempt it again. I still used bad language some, out of sheer habit. My parents had gotten me to counselling a few times, but it was shallow, and I needed something deeper. I started reading the bible whenever I had time, and seeking God’s face; when I started doing that, I realized just how meaningful our life is supposed to be. My eyes were opened to the beauty of Jesus, and I was able to have such sweet fellowship with him. For the first time in my whole life, I looked forward to reading the bible and praying. And now, Praise God Almighty, I am a whole new person --- a person who has her downs, but who overcomes them through Christ.
