My Story
Note: During the month of April, Friend to Friend is profiling the real-life survival stories of sexual assault survivors here in Moore County. Please note that some of these stories contain accounts of sexual assault, and could be triggering. If you find yourself in need of further support, please contact Friend to Friend at 910.947.1703 or via our 24/7 Crisis Line at 910.947.3333 for free and confidential help. You can also reach the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-800-656-4673.
It took me over twelve years to change from describing myself as a “rape victim” to a “sexual assault survivor”. My story began when I was seventeen years old - this is where it begins.
Our parents have always warned us to not meet strangers online, but when you are a teenager, you seldom listen to their advice. It started innocently enough with a man I met off of Myspace, eight years older, and every bit the fleeting romance seventeen-year-old girls crave.
One day, he requested a sandwich from Subway. My small earnings from working in a childcare facility at a gym left me tight financially, but I was smitten, and graciously agreed to bring him a sandwich before my Saturday shift.
It was April, the sun was shining in the small New England town as I bounced up to his second-floor apartment in my Abercrombie jeans and work t-shirt. As soon as I stepped into his apartment I knew something was amiss.
He began to kiss me, more forcefully than normal, and something that was not welcome as we had not been intimate yet. I pushed him away – he pushed me up against the door behind me. “I have to get to work, I
just came to drop this off.” I said nervously. As I gained enough distance between him and myself, I turned to exit the apartment. But it was that moment he grabbed my arms and threw me down on the couch to the right of where we were standing. And then it happened…. the next five minutes changed my life forever. There was screaming, and threats, and eventually - I stopped fighting.
When he picked me up and threw me out of his apartment, I raced to work in my red Jeep Cherokee. I was on autopilot. As soon as my co-workers saw the state I was in, they knew I had to leave. I left, went home, and made a fatal mistake – I showered. I needed the trauma off of me.
Two days went by before I mustered up the courage to tell my Mom while driving home from school one day. She made me go to the ER and told me she would meet me there. I remember my two advocates from the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center who greeted me in the exam room, I will never forget their faces. I met with Detectives, who followed my family home for safety.
Eighteen months after that day, my case was finally seen in front of a Judge. I pressed charges in solidarity for the women who couldn’t. My life was splashed across the witness stand. I was called a slut, they said that
I liked it rough, they said that I wanted this. My family sat two short rows away from the man who raped me.
There was no DNA evidence collected from my rape kit. My rapist was found not-guilty on charges of rape and assault with a deadly weapon. He was found guilty of assault and battery, a “win” in the eyes of my
prosecution team. He received a year probation.
The five minutes of trauma have impacted every bit of the last fifteen years. I have gone from being suicidal, to majoring in Psychology to understand the victim mindset, to becoming a Hospital Advocate with Friend
to Friend.
My sense of safety was forever changed that day. I see myself in the women brought into the ER to have rape kits collected. I see their courage, their bravery, their strength. I know so profoundly that they feel in that moment that their lives will end. How on earth can they get past this? But I am here. Here to tell them, and those who suffer in silence. That one day, you will turn how you describe yourself from a “victim” to a
“survivor”. You will survive your trauma every day for the rest of your life, but some day, you will be empowered enough to hold hands with someone going through the same thing, and confidently tell them “you will be okay”.
-Lindsey Welch