Sharon Pfau

Thirty-eight years ago I was a female victim of rape at age fifteen. I never told anyone and carried it in my life for years. Today, at 53, I am able to speak about what happened. I wrote a poem and also made a painting to show my coming out of the helplessness of that day.

That evening I needed a ride home from my waitress job. My employer set me up with a fellow I only knew as a regular customer who sat behind the counter. I felt safe taking a ride with him. We left the café and I noticed he was driving the wrong direction, stating he had to go look for something. He proceeded to drive his truck behind some large piles of snow in a small parking lot, and this is where the assault occurred. I was so scared and couldn't do anything; I froze. My mind fades on parts of the assault. I was driven home. I gave the directions. I still remember he was smiling and never spoke a word. I was so worried I might be pregnant. I read books about what symptoms to look for and was so relieved when my menstrual period came along.

This assault has affected my relationships through the years. Today I am a cautious, settled, divorced, remarried, and revived female. I have good relationships with my husband, family, and friends. Counseling has helped and it has been my greatest relief. Telling my story to my family was a good thing and my daughter is very proud of me for doing this activity. I did get my own type of revenge towards that fellow. He apparently told a few guys, my employer heard the story and she reported the episode to the fellow's wife. Now remember, this was 38 years ago. I saw that fellow one last time, about a week later, walking around with a huge black eye, a cast on his arm and a few stitches on his forehead. I was told his wife assaulted him and filed for divorce. The made me feel good inside. I only wish I knew then what I know now. I only needed a ride.