I Was Raped

I was raped.  I hate using that word.  When I think of rape, I think of a woman walking alone at night, back to her apartment.  In the shadows, a man in all black and a ski mask lurks behind the bushes.  Like an animal watching his prey, he attacks her, tying her up and violently taking her without consent.

Referee jersey and whistle, Image Credit: Shutterstock

That's not my story.  My story is much different.  It happened when I was twenty, freshly transplanted from Canada to the...

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