Unspoken
By Mark Charles
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About this ebook
This is the story of how one man emotionally recovered and rebuild his life after rape.
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Unspoken - Mark Charles
Prologue
I am not the only man who has been raped. There are countless thousands of us. Fear, guilt and shame prevent us from disclosing our experiences. I do not seek to change this nor do I want to change the world. I am in no way an activist. By providing this account I seek only to offer hope to others.
I was a not a child when I was raped. I was in my early twenties and had no idea that such things happen to men. This story is a common one, and it begins in a dingy nightclub
I
A Rape
The club was a dive. The floor was sticky with spilled beer. The smell of sweat and dry ice permeated the air. I was out celebrating the birthday of an acquaintance when it happened. I don’t pretend that my actions did not influence the events that followed. We had been out drinking for some considerable time, and I could only be described as being a little worse for wear. Following a huge fight with my then girlfriend I had gone out with the sole intention of drinking heavily and was happily engaged in this endeavour when another barfly struck up conversation with me. All too soon my glass was empty and how grateful I was when he offered to refill it.
My drink tasted slightly strange. With hindsight I blame myself for accepting it but at the time all I could think was that the establishment must have been watering down their beer. This was, after all, a dive. But a free beer was still a free beer. Until I had finished my drink this had been an entirely normal interaction. Suddenly I felt a hand on my thigh. This stranger was trying to kiss me. He pushed his tongue into my mouth as his fingers reached for my groin. I pushed him away and explained that I was flattered, but that I was not gay. His response was to say that he was straight; however he attempted to kiss me several more times over the following minutes. My head was swimming as he put his hands down my trousers. I pushed him off me, stated again that I wasn’t interested and walked back to the group of friends I had arrived with.
The room was spinning as I re-joined my friends on the dancefloor. I felt a disconnect with my surroundings. I had gone out trying to get drunk but this was something else. It was difficult to think. Colours started slowly blurring into each other. My speech was so incomprehensibly slurred that conversation was beyond me. Even standing upright required concentration. All in all, I felt that I must be having a good time.
Eventually I went to use the facilities. As I stumbled into the toilet I felt hands on my shoulders, pushing me into the sole cubical. When I saw that it was the same guy from earlier I was struck still with dread. He pushed me up against the tiled wall and pawed at my dick but I was able to knock his hand away. Again, I slurred the word No
.
I felt as though I had lost control of myself. It was almost as though I had been given an anaesthetic. My head was swimming and my body felt numb. I was frozen with terror. I couldn’t think clearly; it was as though I was watching it happen to someone else. All it took was a little pressure and I had collapsed onto the floor. He held my head as he forced his dick into my mouth.
The most shameful thing was that the only thought that entered my head was that if I could manage to make him cum that he wouldn’t anally rape me. I couldn’t. He pulled me to my feet and pushed me up against the cubical wall, crushing my face into the tiles as he pulled my trousers down.
I wish I could say that I fought back but I was frozen. I was unable to think, let alone act. The drink and the drugs had flooded my system and my conscientiousness was reduced to little more than emotion, with no real cognitive facility. I was aware of what was happening to my body but I can’t really say that I felt it. There was a knock on the toilet door. He fucked me harder, trying to climax. There was a louder, more forceful knock, this time accompanied by a voice I thought I recognised.
Guys, I don’t care if you’re doing coke in there, I really need the fucking loo
He was off me in a flash. Suddenly the door was open and he had run out of the toilet. I had collapsed onto the floor, my jeans pulled down to my knees and I stank of fear and guilt and shame. I saw a face that I knew. A friend of the friend whose birthday we had been celebrating. His face showed nothing but concern. He helped me to my feet. I pulled my trousers up. He asked if I was ok but I couldn’t answer. I stumbled to the sink and retched. I washed the sweat from my face and stumbled back to the group of friends I was out with. I don’t recall much of the rest of the evening. I have no recollection of how I got home at all.
The physical sensation afterwards was more than intense. I felt as though there were insects crawling around under my skin. This lasted a couple of days. I felt complete disgust at myself, my body, my being. I felt weak. I felt less than a man. I felt less than human.
II
Aftermath
For