My story starts when I was about 5.
My alcoholic stepfather used to beat the crap out of my mother, and finally after years of abuse she had left him and gotten a restraining order against him. I thought we were safe, until one night he broke into our new home and I woke up to hear him screaming at her about how he was going to “bury the little fuckers alive” (referring to myself and my brother) and how he was going to “slit her throat” and other assorted threats. He had already ripped the phone out of the wall so calling for help was impossible, and at the age of five I had no idea what I could do, I was so scared and I just lay there frozen in my bed listening to him beat and rape her in the next room. He fractured 3 of her ribs that night.
As far as I know she never went to the police about it.
Fast forward 9 years and she had taken him back with claims he had changed. I hated him and now I was older and stronger I made sure he knew it. This caused a huge rift between my mother and I, and I was accused of just being jealous and not wanting her to be happy.
One night he had a friend around drinking (as they did often) and I was hiding out in my room with my brother, his friend came up the hall “looking for the toilet” and somehow ended up in my room, he refused to leave and It was a good 5 minutes before we managed to get rid of him, not before showing us his underwear though. I didnt even feel safe in my own home.
After a few months it all turned back to shit like it had the first time round but this time because my mother had gotten pregnant and he wanted her to “get rid of the fucking thing”. Instead she got rid of him for good.

When I was around 16 I was at a friends older brothers party, we had a lot to drink and only being lightweights it had hit us pretty hard. I went and lay down in her brothers bed as I was feeling unwell, about half an hour later the door opened and a group of about 5 guys I didnt know came in practically carrying my extremely drunk friend. I just lay there pretending to be asleep. One of the guys lay her down on the bed and proceeded to remove her pants then asked his friends “who was going first?”
They all then “had a turn” with my near unconscious friend with me laying right there beside her.
 At 16 I felt helpless against a group of guys and even thought “maybe she was asking for it, after all its not like she said no”  I still to this day feel guilty about not trying to stop them.

But thats the thing, not saying no doesn’t make it ok.
Not saying no doesn’t mean you consent.

She is someone and so am I but because of these things we’re not who we could have been, but we are strong and we will survive.