Rachel's Story

He was not a stranger in an alley or some man I had just met so the thought of what he did actually being rape did not come into my mind until I started to really fight back. We had been together for three years we have a daughter who was just under two at the time, he had a good job and brought in very good money. I stayed at home with our daughter, went shopping all day, and kept the house spotless. Looking from the outside, you would not see the truth within. If anything he made me looks spoilt and would tell all others how hard his life was with me. However, all my family (whom we lived closest to) could see the cracks. My mum could not put her finger on it but she just did not want my daughter or me near him. She was seeing all the control that I could not. He was smart though, he would not hit he would use words and coerce me to his ideals and ways of thinking. He tried and very nearly succeeded to convince me I was a danger to be alone with my daughter, which triggered postnatal depression. He would cheat with others and make me feel worthless. I was forever put on a diet. I was made to wear slutty lingerie on command. Along with that, the 'sex' was on command too. Whether I consented or not was of no consequence, it was expected so it had to be done, daily. I would just lie on the bed dressed in whatever he wanted at the time and await instruction as to what he wanted. Then I started to speak up and at times, flat out refuse before the rapes started he would just storm off like a baby, complaining and making my life hard at every turn always bringing the reason for his behavior back to the lack of sex in our lives. One night he had been drinking and smoking drugs. He tried to restrain me in the living room on the sofa with his hands and force and weight of his body but I fought him off. I made my way to the bedroom upset, scared and confused he had never been this forceful before and I did not know what he was going to do next. My daughter was asleep in the same bedroom so I was scared for her too. Before I could think, he grabbed me from behind and forced me against the wall. He tried to fondle me and kiss me, I refused and tried to push him off but somehow between the space of the living room to the bedroom he had developed a strength I did not know anyone could possess. He threw me by my hair onto bed and ripped the bottom half of my clothes off me. He kept me pinned down by my neck with his forearm pushing me further into the mattress. Tears were streaming down my face but my sobs and pleas stifled, as I did not want to wake my daughter and have her witness it. I cannot remember the duration of the rape but all I have now are the flashbacks of the violence and the way my body was abused as if I was not really in it. That was not the last time he raped me, the last time was in front of my daughter. That is when I saw it for what it was, not what he made it out to be, which, in his words, was all my fault.