I was 15 and I knew what I wanted to do with my life: I wanted to be a journalist. When I was 6, my Dad bought my a typewriter, and by 9 I had my own neighborhood newsletter. When I finally made it to high school, I was so excited to have the opportunity to write for the school newspaper. On the first day of classes, I camped outside the clubhouse and, with eagerness dripping from my voice, practically begged them to let me write for the newspaper. I think they sensed my enthusiasm and welcomed me aboard; I was literally the happiest kid in the world.
I was 14 and I worked through the fall semester. Things went great. I dedicated myself to the newspaper. My dreams were coming true. I was so excited for the future - I could go to college, get a journalism degree, and actually make this my life - actually get paid for doing this. It seemed surreal.
When I was 15, I was given an assignment in the Science section to cover the Belief Institute. This is the assignment that would change forever.
Now I wasn't very good at math or science in particular, but I knew that I was going to be interview on something called Zeno's paradox. I looked it up on-line but I couldn't really understand it. I felt unprepared going into the Belief Institute and not really being sure what kinds of questions to ask. I was hoping that the interviewee would guide me.
I arrived on a Tuesday after school. I'm going to pass over some details because I don't want to ramble, but basically the interview didn't go well. I wasn't getting the basic concepts and I was missing details in responses to the questions I was asking. There was a lot of drift in my questions, trying to find something I would be capable of writing about.
The interviewee excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had showed me some graphs of Zeno's Paradox and what he called a Monte-Carlo simulation, some science stuff I didn't understand, on his computer. While he was gone, I crossed his desk and looked at the computer. I noticed something in another window.
I was aghast, and immediately left the building. I didn't know what to do.
I didn't tell my parents, I didn't tell anyone at the school, and I turned in nothing for the newspaper. I didn't know what to do.
I drew inspiration from the great journalists in the past, and decided to go back to the Belief Institute and confront them. This was the worst mistake of my life.
Basically I told him I saw that he was looking at child porn and that I had some questions about that. The guy called in some other people at the institute, and basically these fucking pieces of shit sodomized me repeatedly with a tyre iron. They pushed it up my asshole ruthlessly, laughing and high fiving each other. A couple of them dropped their pants to relieve themselves while this was happening.
I was sodomized for hours and was finally let go, and they told me that if I told anyone, I would be killed. I could feel blood gushing from my asshole. I felt a sharp cramp-like pain in my stomach and I couldn't walk right. I eventually stumbled into a hospital. Long story short, I had a badly perforated colon.
I was in the hospital for about 7 days if I remember correctly. Recovery was long but I did make a full recovery.
Months later, when I was 16, I was walking down the street, minding my own business. After the rape, I had quit the paper. I didn't talk to any of my friends. I broke up with my girlfriend. I wouldn't talk to my parents. I basically sat in my room for most of the time and stared at the wall.
I started to become okay, though. It took a lot of time. But I started to at least get outside more and more. And so I was walking down the street, and literally a van pulled up and someone grabbed me and pulled me inside. It was unreal, almost like it was out of a movie.
Well the fucking pieces of shit that raped me before were there, and they said that my "young tight ass was the best they ever had." I was frozen; I couldn't scream. One of them produced a tyre iron. They again raped me savagely with the tyre iron, again suffering a perforated colon which again sent me to the hospital.
This attack was a lot more brutal, and I wasn't so lucky. A large portion of my lower colon had to be removed; I developed an intra-abdominal abscess. Basically I shit into a bag now, and can't walk without a slight limp.
They didn't kill me, but they may as well have. I didn't graduate college. I stay in my room all day. I don't do anything with my life. I lie in bed, some days unable to even get out. I don't keep up with my personal hygeine. I've basically died. I have no dreams, no aspirations. I live every day in fear that it will happen again. I do feel safe in my room. I will never leave.
These fucking pieces of shit deserve to be in jail, but no, why are out there still spouting their pseudo-scientific bullshit. Fuck them and their raping way.
Again, I hope this article will be a "safe place" where we can discuss sexual assault, especially the pattern of sexual assault produced by those fucking kangaroo bastards at the Belief Institute.
If you have any questions about my experience, please ask. If you have a story about abuse at the belief institute, please share if you are comfortable with it.