Personal Narrative: Sexual Assault

When I entered as a first time student at UB, I was also exiting an abusive relationship that had become violent. I had very little support and lacked financial resources. I began counseling at the counseling center at UB and continued with classes while also working to support myself. I experienced an overwhelming amount of anxiety and felt uncomfortable on campus from the presence of my previous partner who was also a student at UB. My grades slipped and the opportunity to withdraw passed.

There are many things I wouldn’t put past my estranged mother: she’s trolled me in the comment section of my online articles, publicly disowned me and my sister on Facebook more than once, and put me in very serious legal trouble. But I never thought I would see her openly defending a man who bragged about “grabbing pussy”, nor did I think I’d see her outright mock victims of alleged sexual assault, especially because she is a survivor of sexual abuse and assault.

I am writing in regards to the domestic violence charge I received October 8, 2016. First, I will begin by touching base on the events that occurred that night. I had received an acceptance letter from Clinton Technical School that I had been accepted to nursing school. Since I had gotten accepted I decided that I wanted to celebrate by going to a concert with a friend of mine.

I am trying to figure out who killed Mr. Boddy. So far, the suspect's are Mrs.Peacock, Professor Plum, and Miss Scarlett. Entering into Professor Plum's house. I saw him in his house with a dagger on his table beside him. He said "he had it for safety." So I started searching his house and found nothing, so I left.

that we're conditioned to not ask questions and have been marginalized into this as our only source of news .

You wouldn’t know it just by looking at me, but I spent years of my life being abused by the father of my children. We married at the tender age of 15, while I was pregnant with our first child. At the time, I imagined us having a wonderful life together while raising a passel of kids. Instead, he physically and emotionally me and my children. Although I left him several times in the next few years before finally leaving in 2011, I was still often held hostage by his mind games, physical violence, and drama until the summer of 2016.

My life flashed before my eyes. I knew I couldn’t stop. I froze. I crashed. I woke up. On March 13th 2011, I had an accident. I woke up in a pool of crimson mud and snow, and I could see my right cheek in the corner of my eye. I slid my tongue across my teeth, and cringed in fear as I felt the abnormality inside my mouth: every tooth right of my nose was misshapen, and my front teeth were halfway out of my mouth. I was missing another. I thought God had tried to kill me, and I was irrational. I couldn’t move. I had slid off the ice covered ski path and off into the woods.

I fell asleep just in the middle of the hallway hoping that all of this was just a dream. I woke up feeling like i had been drinking all last night. I hated myself for killing an innocent cat. I went outside because i felt like i had to because i was so disgusted. I threw up all my insides so i went back inside to ask for treats to possibly to feel better about myself and this whole situation. I went over to the main room to beg to fill my empty stomach. The mom got up and fed me a decent amount of treats. This made me feel great for the time being totally forgetting about the cat and the whole fight. Once i ate them all i felt that sadness and sickness that was lurking in me still. I figure that the treats were a temporary cure for the disease

EEERRR……. As I opined the dour, I heard a frantic scream, help help help screamed a man that was being chased by a ISIS fighter. In a state of notches, I feel to the ground, ouch!!! I quickly stumbled to my feet, turning around I realized that I feel on a rifle. I thought myself, remembering how I to us a rifle, I snatched up the gun and aimed throw the scope, as I puled the trigger, a loud sound from the gun startled me and at the same time excited that I killed one of the many fighters I have to face.

the abuse I endured from my parents. I didn’t do too well in school either, I was 8-years old and had no clue what the alphabet was or how to count to 10, I even forgot how to spell my name. Once in a while they would help me with my work, but never too often and always made fun of me. In time, the problem seemed to escalate causing me troubles in school with other students and faculty which forced me being expelled from school. From that point on, there was a lot of tension building at home because of my disorder causing chaos, fighting, arguing with the family all day, everyday. One afternoon after a walk, I came back to realize that almost everything in my room was boxed up. I asked what was going on but all they did was give me

I let myself join in on the conversation about which ice cream topping was the best, and then, all of a sudden, we were all saying our last goodbyes.

Domestic violence is a serious issue that affects many people. When I was a child I was exposed to it without even realizing the magnitude of the situation. Looking back at my childhood, those memories of the exposure haunt me the most. There is one specific event that comes to my memory when I look back. I remember the day so vividly and intensely.

The heavy darkness pressed against John's weak chest suffocating him, he fumbled as he tried to locate the flashlight. There was no way to escape this gloomy darkness. The stench of rotting corpses, fresh blood and the damp walls surrounded him in his last dreadful hours. The musty, dank odour crept into his nose. There was dead silence, he could hear his breath in a vigorous pattern. The sweat from his body ran down to his palate, made him realise the agony of a broken heart.

He slammed the door shut and locked it. The locking mechanism made a decided click that was a comfort to his harried senses. The acrid scent of sweat reached his nose, and he became more aware of the mess he’d created on himself. He peeled his t-shirt off, immediately more comfortable than before. His breathing slowed and evened out as he allowed himself to relax. He slid his back against the wall and sat heavily. Once again, as time slugged by, he felt his anxiety rising. It was dark and all he could hear was his calm breathing. He was safe, he was fine. Nothing could get him

I opened the door and a new squeak met my ears. Silence enveloped me. Not one person was there. My shoes sounded as I walked down the long aisle. I had forgotten how long it had been since I came. A chalky blanket covered the decrepit objects. Slowly my feet moved forward to the bookcases. It was just like I remember only covered with the gray dust that was fought so viciously before. I was enveloped by the memories and by the books. I touched everything I could put my hand on and walked around for hours in the solitude, absorbed in the creaky wood, dusty smell and painful memories.