The following account of a teenager stresses the importance of a parent’s awareness in terms of a child’s concealment. Not only does it let you see through the eyes of a teenager who has gone through the peril of rape but through one who feels the great pressure to have to conceal matters, and keep things hidden from you as well.
This is an extract from a former troubled teen we have included on our site to give you an insight into the feelings and emotions a teenager might be going through (even though the scenario presents a very extreme circumstance). WARNING: The extract below describes and actual rape and some readers may find it offensive.
Non-Fiction
By: Claire E. Net
These are words of mine my mother read, written in the back pages of my school notebook:
His hands roughly move along the tender expanse of her body. He hungrily grapples her breasts while firmly pinning her down. Bringing his mouth and gruff chin to her innocence, he feverishly bites without compassion. The hands of “power” move further down, all the while pressed hard against a taut body, screaming resistance. The two eyes staring back at her divulge the want beneath-- a hunger for the flesh, the very driving force behind the ravaging of her innocence.
He abruptly enters her, taking her for his own. And it brings her intense pain from within. The jarring pain comes with his every forceful thrust, over and over. She lies there, helpless, in a twisted surrender. The pain reaches a haunting rhythm. It’s as if her incessant whimpering comes to a sick union with his moans of meaningless satisfaction. She is emptied, breathless from the crying after an eternity has passed. And she’s left to pick up pieces of her, the thousands of them scattered on the floor.
After my mother read through this, I was caught. She questioned me about the nature of my writing. What’s this? Fiction? What’s the meaning of this? she asked. And I began to tell her a story.
Okay, she’s at a night market, wearing a denim skirt and a tie-dyed sleeveless top with swirls of blue, red and yellow...
“Is that really necessary?” Mom interrupts.
“Just let me tell the story ok,” I continue.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah...she’s looking around for a fashion find and she bumps into a friend from school. He chitchats with her while she’s digging through a rainbow of ponytail holders, looking for just the right color. But she doesn’t find anything she likes, and he offers to drop her off at home. She agrees, they get into his Toyota Corolla and drive off. On the way back, he suddenly makes a wrong turn and stops the car in a dark area of the narrow street. She asks, “What are you doing?” And he answers, “Could we just talk for a little longer before I take you back?” Now she’s thinking, Wow, does he really like me? We’ve been talking a lot lately during class breaks. What if he’s gonna try to kiss me!? Gosh, my first kiss! Oh! This is it; he’s actually going to give me a goodnight kiss. How romantic! He stares at her for an awkward moment and leans forward, bringing his lips to hers. But it’s not a soft, sweet kiss. Oddly, he’s breathing heavily. She starts to get frantic. It’s like he’s trying to swallow her mouth whole, suddenly shoving his tongue in. “You’re making me gag. Stop it!” she exclaims. But he doesn’t hear a thing. He grasps her shoulders tightly as he unexpectedly climbs on top of her from the driver’s seat. She struggles, trying to push against his weight. His hands quickly slide down to her wrists, gripping them firmly. What’s happening!? The weight of his body over her legs keeps them pinned. All the while, his mouth is clamped on hers, stifling her cries.
He takes a long breath, Thank God! but before she can shout, he bites her lower lip and the pain stings. Pressing his upper body up against her, he hikes up her skirt. Her crying makes it hard for her to breathe. Unzipping his pants, he takes out his thing and the next instant she feels like she’s being ripped open.
Please be over, please be over, please be over. A few minutes feel like hours. And all through, what she sees, hears, smells, tastes and feels, is pain. At last, he gets off her, moving back to the driver’s seat. “What did I do?” he blurts out, talking to the steering wheel in a worried trance. The guy who abused her just moments ago can’t even look at her.
In a daze, she grabs her bag and stumbles out of the car sobbing, feeling as sore as hell between her legs while she slowly makes her way back to the market. Get it together!!! Get it together!!!! She smoothens out her skirt and struggles to dry her puffy eyes. Touching her sore bottom lip, a drop of blood on her thumb startles her. It really happened. I’m so ashamed. She takes out the cell-phone in her bag and calls a friend to pick her up. Now what!? Her friend arrives in a few minutes and when she gets in, she thinks, I can’t go home. She goes to her friend’s house nearby. There, her friend offers to make some coffee. Left alone, she goes to the bathroom to pee. My piss is red. There’s blood in the toilet. Oh God. She almost breaks down. Come on, get it together! But she quickly flushes the toilet and wipes her eyes. Knocking. Oh no! Her friend’s at the door. She steps out of the bathroom and, Here goes, plasters on a big smile.
Blue, red, and yellow swirls, I know that blouse, thinks Mom. She blurts out my name, searching for words...
The way that the teenager in this account reacts to her being raped after she sees her own blood in the toilet and realizes what has happened to her is a prime example of how dangerous concealment can be for your troubled teen. She takes a shaky step out of the bathroom and plasters on a smile! It can just leave you thinking about how much your teenager can keep hidden from you. Your awareness can mean worlds of difference. If you are observant and alert enough to notice holes in your teen’s story or his/her unexplained behavior, then take action. If your teen doesn’t feel strong enough to stand up for him/herself and the truth, then maybe you can!
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