An Open Letter to His Sister

Dear Hannah,

I’ve shared this story dozens of times in therapy, in my journal, with family, friends, and even some strangers. I’ve spent the last five years waiting to share my story with you and imagining your response. You’d think that with all that practice I’d know exactly what to say or where to start but still, when I sat down to write this letter, I couldn't seem to find the words.

I won’t go into detail of what your brother did to me or the things he made me do for your sake and my own, but I do want to tell you what happened to me afterwards and how your family’s actions changed my life.

Over that summer in 2014, your brother took almost every one of my firsts. He stole my trust in men, my faith, my safety, my autonomy, my self-respect, my innocence, and he drove a wedge through my closest relationships. He coerced and forced me into things I didn’t even know the name for yet. If I said no he would get angry, bargain, and beg until finally I would say yes but it didn’t mean what yes means. Sometimes I wouldn’t even bother fighting him, I'd just lie on the bottom bunk of his bed and stare at the bronze cup of coins on his bedside table till he was finished. I am blessed to say that he never raped me. The night that things got the worst we were downtown in a park behind some trees. Every time he started to get comfortable and confident that no one would find us, something would interrupt him: a stranger on a bike, a phone call from my dad. I know something or someone was looking out for me that night. Had I stayed with him much longer, than that night I am positive that he would have raped me.

For the longest time afterwards, I wouldn’t call what had happened to me sexual assault because it wasn’t the kind of violent assault you’re taught about growing up like the armed stranger in an alleyway or the drunk college boys in a frat house basement. He was my boyfriend. I trusted him. So I buried it, but eventually it became too hard to ignore. The flashbacks came first. I’d mostly get them in the car on the way to school every morning where I’d have to see him in the halls. Then came the anxiety and panic attacks so I started missing school and my grades dropped. I began self-harming on my arms and legs. And I would drink. I would drink till I blacked out whenever my 15-year-old hands could get a hold of enough alcohol. This
unfortunately led to me being taken advantage of by another boy, an incident I can still barely remember. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat.

As time went on, I became more confident in confiding in loved ones. They helped me understand the true extent of what I had gone through and they gave me the courage to call your brother's actions what they really were. Living in such a small town like we did the news of what happened spread fast. In February of 2015, your mom reached out to me on Facebook. She said that she had heard what I was saying about your brother and
if I didn’t stop, she would sue me for slander. I was a traumatized 16-year-old barely able to understand what had just happened to me and now I was afraid to even talk about it. I was afraid to tell my parents because I had lied about where I was when I was with your brother. I was afraid, alone and unable to ask for help. I will never forgive her for that.

Once your brother graduated and left for Detroit and it seemed as though your family had forgotten about me, I thought the nightmare was finally over. Then on New Year’s 2017 your brother reached out to me on Facebook. At first, I ignored his attempts to reconnect but then I saw it as an opportunity to get some answers. I’m not sure what I was expecting, maybe an apology, but your brother was more concerned about how I had made him look in high school and making excuses for his actions claiming he couldn’t control himself and was “blinded to common sense”. After our conversation on Facebook, I was a mess and terrified of being contacted by your family again. So I reached out to a lawyer I knew about a personal protection order. When she found out why I was inquiring about a PPO she put me in contact with one of Emmet County’s prosecuting attorney’s. I was asked to share my story with him. At that point, I had never shared my story with an adult, especially a male adult, and there were parts of it I couldn’t even remember. He told me that if your
brother didn’t put me in the hospital, he couldn’t help me and told me that I just needed to “say no harder next time”. If I’m being honest, I partially blame him for the girls your brother assaulted after me. After that, I started
counseling at the Women’s Resource Center.

Eventually, I left for college in New York and I thought things would magically get better, but my anxiety only got worse and I began having nightmares about your brother assaulting his new girlfriend. I also discovered a medical issue that I had developed as a result of the assaults, so I decided to take a semester off and go back to therapy. That semester I learned that your brother and his girlfriend had broken up, so I decided to reach out to her. During that April night phone call, she echoed the exact experiences I had had with your brother. I wish we had stayed in contact, but she moved to Europe and I went back to New York. One night back in New York, one of your brother's friends reached out to me through social media to tell me he had raped someone else, a girl he worked with at a party when she was unconscious. Trying not to blame myself for what he’s done to other girls has been the hardest part of my healing journey.

Dear Hannah, I’ve seen the things you’ve posted on social media recently. I see that you’re still using your religion to excuse toxic masculinity. And I see that you say that you too have experienced assault or harassment. I hear you asking for the sympathy you so cruelly withheld from me. The sympathy you made sure no one else showed me when you dismissed my accusations and called me crazy. But I hope, with all my heart, that you do find that sympathy. I hope you are believed, and I hope you find the support from this community that I never had. But I guess that is the difference between you and me.

I used to spend my days plotting revenge, trying to figure out a way to hurt your family the same way you had hurt me. Eventually, my desire for revenge shifted to a desire for you to simply understand the hurt you caused. I was constantly sending and unsending the imaginary letter I’d write to you and your family detailing my pain. But one day I had to accept that that day may never come. I was never supposed to experience this trauma and I lost parts of myself I will never get back. But this anger, this hurt, and this shame are not mine to bear. These secrets are not mine to keep. And I hope that one day I have the bravery to report your brother so that his current and future victims have someone behind them the way I never did. Despite everything your family has put me through, I am going to be just fine. As a matter of fact, I am going to live a happy, successful, fulfilling life that is full of love.

And lastly, Hannah I don’t know if your God exists but if he does I believe there are some things that only he can forgive and I honestly hope that he has forgiven you because I’m not sure if I can yet.

Sincerely,

mariafntzz