I fell in love with my rapist

I was 17. He was 33.

I dreamed about him today. I woke up crying. About trying to contact him. I tried frantically, just like I did in real life, only in the dream he responded. He replied to the message. He answered the phone. He agreed to meet me one last time.

I said we didn't need to keep in touch. I just wished I could see him one last time knowing it would be the last time. I never had a closure.

This question has always remained open to me, and I had to learn to live with it. It's been years, I don't even know how many. The amount of pain I felt, and still feel, made me lose my memory and sense of time. Sometimes I think it's good that I don't remember all of our moments. This way it is less painful. But there are times when I wonder if it was all true.

There is one memory in particular that I hold on to. We're in bed and I roll over on top of him, looking at his face, caressing his scruffy beard. The agreement at that stage was not to have sex anymore - cause it was wrong, but we couldn't keep our promise.

I tried to kiss him, but he dodged twice. He was trying to keep his promise. But the third time he kissed me back, and it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

Of all the people I've ever kissed in my life, he had the best kiss. It's almost like I can remember it, feel it.

I keep the subject of Gus very well buried in my chest, I don't tell people anyone. No one understands how much he hurt me, how much--to say it from my tears at the moment--still hurts.

Abandonment hurts.

And I still love him despite that.

I would do some things differently. I think he would still be here. But he's not. And what I have left of him is pain, few memories and this constant feeling that I am irreparably broken because of him.

If loving someone means being able to go through that again, I don't want to love anyone else.

Obviously, the fact that I still love him despite all he did is sick, but I was a child. He knew best and still had my first time with me.

I also feel angry, because I'm irreparably broken and for so long I thought it was my fault. I still think that sometimes. But I was too naive to think he wasn't using me. He was. It was just sex to him.

For me, it was the whole world.

I fell in love with my ***.