Destiny Star's Blog

Last night as I was stopping by the grocery store after going to a late mass, I saw the creepy guy from one of my last nights at work again. He was at my grocery store! This is really scaring me. I don’t know if he recognized me, since I was dressed for mass, not for work.

I don’t even know what’s going on I’ve been up all night with my pistol next to me, worried about what might happen next… I can’t bear the thought of being taken again, I just can’t. I feel like I’m losing my mind here.

I’m rocking myself, holding my rosary and praying for my safety as the night goes on. This guy just really trips all the wrong triggers with me. He was scary and creepy, and then he showed up in my neighborhood, just a few blocks from where I live. Where I live!

I can’t do this… I can’t live where I’m afraid that I’m being stalked constantly. I need to get out of this town. I need to get out of this life and into the new one that’s waiting for me. I can’t live on hold anymore.

I looked at my lease and it would cost me two thousand dollars to get out of my lease here and then about two thousand more to find a short-term place to rent near the Institute where I start school in January. I’m worried I’ll be taken and hurt again unless I make a break from my life here. If you can help me out with this, please, please help me. I need out of here.

Being stalked is probably the most terrifying experience anyone can have. You meet someone and are nice to him, and he’s nice t you, but for some reason, things just aren’t going to happen in a relationship. You tell him you just want to be friends, and suddenly your life is turned upside down.

I met my stalker at the club where I work. He asked questions while I was dancing, and even invited me to just sit and talk. We talked, I tod him about my art, and even gave him a way to see some of it online.

He started coming in to see me dance more often, and started reading commetns on my art pages. He even commented a time or two and made me feel special. One day h came into the club wih a box of art supplies for me. I thanked him and continued my night.

He coninued to come in, and while I didn’t realize I at the time, he would get extremely jealous whenever I danced for someone other than him. I didn’t know that when he wasn’t there watching me, things were getting extremely creepy.

He was frequently following me around town. He knew my car and my license plate number. He knew my home phone number and my cell phone number. He knew my real name. He had my myspace and facebook addresses with my real name on them.

He knew who my parents had been. He knew where I lived, he knew when I worked and when I didn’t. He knew hings about me that I thought were deep, dark secrets from all but my very closest friends.

He would watch me from the shadows outside my home as I dressed for bed. He watched me go to sleep. He watched as I occasionally had sex with someone from the club or a bar. He got jeaous. He got angry. In his mind, I belonged to him, and no one else should have me.

He started to plan.

He started learning everything there was to learn about everplace I went reguarly. He learned the layut of the cub. He earned the layout of my home and the homes around me. He learned about the stores where I shopped and the parks where I ran.

He learned everything about me and made his plan foolproof. He hid severa times near each place he thought he could catch me alone at times he thought I would be there to learn if he really could catch me alone.

While all this went on, he continued to be a regular at the club whenever I was there. He and I continued to have little conversations whenever I danced for him. I thought we were, well not friends, but people who had a very pleasant working relationship. He was one of my favorite customers because he tipped well for dances and didn’t expect me to do things for him.

Then, one day, it happened. I was walking to my car at the edge of the parking lot of the mall I liked to shop at on my nights off. It was late and the mall had just closed. A van was parked next to my car. As I unlocked my car door, the van door rolled open and I was pulled inside.

I was tied down, gagged, and covered with a blanket. I was driven around for a long time, probably in circles. Eventually we stopped and I was carried like a sack of potatoes to a room where I was tied down on a bed.

He sat and talked to me. He told me all about his obsession with me. He called it his love for me. He told me that now we would be together forever. I cried. He cut my clothes off me.

He didn’t rape me right away. He tried to act like he was my lover. He kissed me all over. He touched me. He made my body betray me by becoming aroused. When he entered me, I screamed. I screamed that I hated him. I screamed that he was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

I made him angry. He beat me. He raped me again. He sodomized me. He told me that I would die as his property. He told me that I was his, and that I’d never see anyone I loved again. He told me that if I wanted to be see someone I loved I’d better start loving him.

I was kept chained to that bed for I don’t know how long. He would occasionally let me go to the bathroom, but would stay and watch me. He’d make me go with him standing right there looking at me, and then he’d chain me back to my bed. He’d rape me whenever he felt like it. He’d use me however he wanted.

I’m only alive and free because my roommates missed me and couldn’t get me on the phone, and I’d parked in view of a security camera at the mall. The police looked for me, found out I’d gone to the mall, found my car, and saw me being kidnapped. They saw his license plate. They found his address.

They found me chained to a bed, beaten, bloody, and feeling like my soul had been raped out of me. He was tried, I had to testify, and he went to prison. He wasn’t a big, tough, or mean guy, so he spent some time being raped repeatedly himself before he tried to fight back and was killed.

He’s the rapist it’s easiest to forgive for some reason, because he was the third. He was the one who led Miranda to bring her priest to talk with me. He was the one who ultimately led me to Jesus, and, in a way, I suppose I owe him for that.

I hope that he found God before he was killed, and I hope that his soul was saved, because otherwise he’ll spend the rest of eternity longing for the time he spent in prison and wishing he could have traded places with me chained to that bed. I won’t pray for him to be released from purgatory, and I won’t pray that he suffers in hell. I do forgive him, though, and I hope he found his salvation.

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Tisha getting raped tonight made me think about the first time it happened to me… It was a couple months after I started, and none of the girls had been raped since I started. A few of them had talked about it, saying how it happens and to be careful.

After those couple of months, though, I was feeling ok and thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a bad situation anymore. After all, no one had been raped since I started, and while we still got touched a lot in the club, it hadn’t really gotten rough. Since the last time one of the girls had been raped was about a week before I started, the other girls occasionally said I was good luck.

My luck went bad pretty fast, though. About two months after I started, I gave one of the regulars a private dance. Most of the girls liked him most of the time. He didn’t drink much and tipped well. I’d never really been his type, though, so I’d never given him a private dance.

That night, though, he’d been drinking. Who knows why? Maybe he’d fought with his wife or his girlfriend. Maybe his secretary had flirted with him and shut him down. It doesn’t really matter. He’d been drinking and he wanted me to dance for him and offered a damn good tip.

When we got back to the private booth, he got a little grabby at first. More than he usually was, but that was still better than a lot of the guys who come in, so I let him slide on it. Soon, though, he was getting worked up and I didn’t know how to deal with him. Before I could figure out what was happening, he pushed me up against the wall, started kissing me on the mouth, and pushed his fingers inside me. Fortunately I was able to get my mouth free and yell for help and the bouncers got him out before he could rape me.

A couple of nights later, I got off at around 4 and walked to my car. The parking lot for the staff is really dark at night and makes it hard to see, and so I was walking to my car alone, basically in the dark. It was a little scary the first couple of nights, but after two months or so, I didn’t really think about it anymore, so I just went and didn’t worry about getting a bouncer to walk me out.

I was almost to my car when he grabbed me and forced me to the ground. He punched me in the face so I was dazed, and pulled my panties off from under my skirt and stuffed them in my mouth to muffle my screams. I tried and tried to get a word out and let someone know what was happening, but I’m a small girl and he was a big guy. He just held me down and crushed the wind out of me. Then he was inside me.

He held me down and used me. I struggled and squealed and tried to scream through the cloth in my mouth and the hand covering it. Struggling just seemed to make him more excited, because soon he finished inside me, punched me in the face a couple more times, and left.

One of the girls found me about half an hour later when she left for her car. I was apparently curled up in a ball, crying and bleeding from my face and from down below. I spent the next several weeks worrying I might be pregnant with my rapist’s baby, because as traumatic as that was, I’ve never believed in abortion.

After it was clear I wasn’t pregnant, I got to spend months worrying what sort of diseases I’d been infected with. The STD test they did on some of the semen they found inside me didn’t have any diseases in it, but they said they didn’t have enough to do a really thorough test, and so I should keep getting tested for six months to make sure I didn’t have HIV. Fortunately, all my tests came back negative the entire time.

This was such a shock to my world. I felt so worthless and so used. I felt like no one would ever be able to love me. I still don’t know how to describe all the horrible things I felt in those days and weeks as I recovered. The things that I let myself start doing afterward, I still don’t know how to forgive myself, even though I know that God and His Son have forgiven me.

I’m praying I can find the strength to help Tisha through what’s happened to her, and help her to deal with this better than I did.

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Tisha was raped tonight. Sadly, this isn’t uncommon around here. Most of us have been raped at one time or another, even me. The entrance for us girls is around back and we have a small parking lot just for us and the waitresses and bouncers. The waitresses never seem to get bothered, but whenever one of us goes out without a bouncer along, something seems to happen.

Tisha left last night for a little bit. She said she was just going to run to her car. Maybe it was to do some coke, since she has a bit of a habit, maybe it was to blow some customer for a little extra to help feed her coke habit. Maybe she just went out to get some lipstick or a different outfit to wear. She wasn’t really in the mood for details. When she came back in, her clothes were ripped up, she was bleeding, and she was beaten. She’d been raped for nearly half an hour by a group of guys who hit her over the head and held her down.

This isn’t much different from a lot of girls’ stories, mine included. Most of us have been raped at least once going out into that parking lot, or going to a private party, or even just in one of the private booths that are supposed to be for lapdances. It just happens. Yet another reason I’m on my way out of this business. I’m tired of living my life under the constant threat of being raped just for working where I work.

I don’t think I want to tell my stories about this right now. Right now I’m just going to grab my bag and go stay with Tisha for a while, or get her to come stay with me. I just don’t want her to be alone, like she will be if she stays at her place without someone there. Hopefully I’ll be able to get her to come to church with me. I know Jesus will be able to help her if she’ll talk to Him…

So everyone please pray for her….

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I’ve gotten some questions about how I came to Jesus, so I thought I’d share the story. It’s kinda hard for me to talk about, so I don’t know how much I’ll be able to tell, but I’ll try.

It really happened right after my third rape. I was lying in bed at home crying my eyes out for probably the fiftieth time that day. I was sore all over. My right eye was still swollen shut and I couldn’t walk straight to save my life. I couldn’t sit down, all I could do was lie on my side and whimper…

Miranda, who’d found me afterwards, gotten me to the hospital, and brought me home had gone out to get groceries and to tell everyone at the club what had happened. She’d been raped the first time about a month before, so she was looking to take care of someone and try to take some control back.

Like I said, though, this was my third time, so all I was wanting was to die. I literally felt like the only way these things would stop happening to me was if I were to kill myself, and that sounded like a damn good trade-off. If I’d been able to move, I probably would have done it.

As it was, Miranda got home right as I was feeling my worst, and had brought her priest home with her. He was incredibly kind, and sat with me, just listening as I cried and talked about what had happened and how it made me feel. He just sat and told me he was here and that he’d listen to anything I had to say.

Then, when I stopped crying, he told me that no matter what, there was Someone who would always love me and care for me, whatever might happen to me and whatever I might do. He talked to me about how much Jesus loved me and how much He’d gone through to show His love for everyone. He talked to me about my pain and suffering and how all the worst things that happened to me were what gave me the greatest potential to be one with Him.

The two of them sat with me for hours, talking to me, listening to me, and taking care of me. They helped me feel better and started taking me to mass. Eventually, I joined the church, was baptized and confirmed. Now I’m trying to make something of my life and be the person Jesus wants me to be.

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