D you know why you are the way you are? I know why I am.

If you don't want to cry, stop reading. If you will feel sorry for me, stop reading got I need no sympathy. This is made me stronger than I pray anyone ever has to be.
It was new years eve 2004 going on 2005. I was invited to a party with a bunch of people I thought I knew. I thought they were good honest, trustworthy people. I had known everyone there for several years. I have never been so wrong in my life.
We were all sitting around the table playing a game, when a cute boy asked if anyone needed a drink, he was headed to get one. I asked for a Dr. Pepper. After drinking about half of it, I started to feel light headed and dizzy. My Friend told me to go take a nap in her bedroom, that she would wake me when midnight got closer.
After that, I can only remember glimpses and still frame memories of what happened. For this I feel truly blessed. I remember someone coming in the room, screaming as they ripped my shirt off. Ripping as in the seams were torn in half. I remember begging them to leave me alone, not to hurt me. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to please save me.
I remember crying and pleading with them not to take something from me that was sacred, something I was saving for my wedding night. I remember waking in the morning, hearing the birds, praying that it was just a horrible vivid dream When I gathered the courage to open my eyes, I was too stunned to cry, I wanted to die. There was what was left of my shirt on the floor by the bed. My pants were thrown on the arm of the ugly green chair.
For the next few months, I was crazy. I had no one I could talk to, no one I could trust. I felt that men were evil. That all men wanted was to use and abuse. They wanted nothing but to feel good, without caring about others feelings. That love was something people made up to make the world not seem like that torture chamber that it was.
I met my wonderful husband during this time. The first night we talked, I felt he was someone good. Someone that cared for others, someone I could trust. I didn't tell him what had happened to me, but he knew something was wrong. When he finally convinced me to tell him what was wrong, I told him how I felt about love, how I felt about men.
He asked for one chance to prove to me that love was something wonderful, something that me happy. Something not to hate.
My husband saved me in more ways than I can ever repay him for. He is the reason I am sane, the reason I can love. Because of him I am able to forgive. A gift that I wish more people were able to have.

I love you Scott