Teenage Victim Shares Her Story

Written by a teenage victim of sexual grooming. ⬇️💜

“The end was coming. I could feel it. Something had to change, I couldn’t keep living like this.

I knew something was about to break, but I hadn’t figured out what yet. Was it my family? My friends? Or was it me?

It was time for me to face the consequences of this mess. It was the tipping point. The climax.

It wouldn’t end well.

I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck. Trapped. Right and wrong blurred. There was a war inside of me, it was tearing me apart.

I was helping my friend. My best friend. He said he didn’t have anyone else he could trust and rely on like he did with me. He said I was changing his life, helping him not to drink and to strive to be better. He said he had a sad heart and that I was bringing him joy. Talking with me and seeing me made him happy.

As much as I wanted to help my friend, I also couldn’t ignore how dangerous this could become. How dangerous it was becoming,

Monster spent all his free time texting, calling, and seeing me in person. He poured his heart out to me, telling me his marriage was dead and how they rarely spoke; both of them living in their separate bubbles in their one house. He would come to me with his complaints and pains.

I wanted to help him, to be his friend. But I felt more like I was replacing his wife. I didn’t want that, it was wrong, and it would hurt his wife.

I told him to remember his priorities, Lesa. Fight for her, not me.

We were still growing closer, and he told me how it was straining his marriage even more. If I became the reason why they split… that would destroy me. I had to make this right, I had to fix this.

But every time I said I should step back I would see the tears stream down his face. He told me that if I left, “gave up”, it would break him. He would give up on everything. He would quit his school and waste away. I hated seeing him like that. How was I supposed to leave knowing how badly that would hurt him? I couldn’t do that.

But as I stayed, everything kept getting worse. I needed it to change. I couldn’t keep going through this, it was destroying me, I was losing myself, slipping away. But I also knew I couldn’t live without him, so I had to fix this.

I couldn’t stop thinking about all of this. My mind was stuck on it, but I couldn’t move forward. I didn’t know how to, didn’t know what to do.

Every time Monster set aside training time for private “Mikey Time”, I would bring it up. I told him how it was destroying me. That we shouldn’t be this close, and we needed distance and boundaries. We needed to do something to fix this.

He would always say he would respect whatever I decided, and then add how it didn’t matter what anyone else thought, only you can make yourself happy, and being beside me made him happy.

I set up boundaries, but they felt so small and pathetic compared to the problem. He would always say I was trying to use and control him every time I did, and my boundaries were quickly trampled over.

And despite my pushback about texting too much, the phone would chime with his texts every minute of every day.

So I kept bringing it up and pushing back. He started getting more and more upset every time I talked about it. At the time, I thought his anger and frustration were aimed at losing me. He wasn’t fighting me; he was fighting for me. And as he told me more about his struggles and sorrows, it felt cruel to keep dragging him into my own misery. He already had enough to deal with on his own, and it was obvious my pushback was hurting him.

I couldn’t keep doing this, but I did. I couldn’t fix it, but kept showing up. So… I must want this.

I thought I knew what I wanted and what I didn’t want. But maybe Monster was right, maybe everything he kept telling me was true.

“I know you’re into me, like how I’m into you.”

“Your actions speak louder than your words.”

“You need to go home and take a cold shower, because you’re horny.”

“There’s only two reasons why you come to the school so much: you either hate your home life, or you love me.”

Was he right?

He made me feel like it was my fault, like I did this to him. He would tell me how the things I did and said kept putting him into this “state” or “place” and that I did it on purpose. I remember feeling self-conscious, so uncomfortable with all his talk about my body that I hid it beneath baggy clothes. But nothing worked, I couldn’t deter him, it only got worse. I only made it worse.

Everything was a broken mess. I wasn’t even sure what was going on, who I had become. I felt so broken, so twisted. Part of me knew that this was all wrong. I shouldn’t be doing any of this. This shouldn’t even be happening. I shouldn’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night to call a married man when he asked me to, or texting him every minute of the day.

But I did. Over and over. I kept showing up. Answering the texts. Calling when he asked. I hadn’t run even when my skin crawled from his disgusting whispers to me. Why couldn’t I stop? I wanted it to stop. I kept coming back even though it was killing me. Was I addicted somehow? What was wrong with me?

A heavy question sickened my heart, filled me with shame, and broke everything inside of me. Was I having an affair? That question haunted me, destroyed all my strength. How had this happened? I didn’t want this, but I let it happen. So I guess I did. I felt awful, disgusting. I felt like I had lost myself. I didn’t know the girl in the mirror anymore… and I didn’t want to. Because the girl staring back in the reflection looked like an unfaithful whoar.

I was a guilty sinner, I fell too far below God’s grace. I threw everything back into God’s face, broke his heart, and puked on all his good things and plans. I was out of his reach and doomed to hell.

What was the point in trying anymore? Should I just let go then? If this is what I chose, if there was no hope for my soul… should I just live out this sinful, sad life before I die and go burn in hell?

I’ve always been hard-headed, not learning things the hard way, but the way-harder-than-necessary way. And today I’m grateful for that. As dirty and hopeless as I had felt, I couldn’t give up. Something deep inside of me begged me to keep fighting, keep trying. I didn’t see much joy in my future being possible, but I kept waking up each morning and tried again. I kept telling myself there had to be a reason I was still breathing, and I had to keep trying to find it.

I begged God to tell me what to do, show me how to make everything right.

And I also begged him not to involve anyone in the solution. I wanted to only hear it from him, but that was a cover; I didn’t want anyone else to know, to see what was going on.

They would be so angry with me, pointing out every stupid decision and wrong step.

They also wouldn’t understand. It looked bad from the outside, but we were working to fix it, so I thought. I never once blamed him, sometimes I would get annoyed with how clingy he was, but I never put the blame on him. I was very conflicted. I didn’t want this, but if he was innocent, then it must be my fault. My choice.

And I knew if they saw all of this, they would separate me from Monster, not knowing that would kill me.

I kept asking God if this was his will, if this was what my life was meant to be. I didn’t want this; I was so sad and disappointed. This was never how I imagined my life going. The thought of having to marry a married man, who was older than my own dad, never crossed my mind. How cruel was this?

God, just tell me, yes, or no. That’s all I needed to hear. Was I doomed to marry this man? Or did I need to do something big to fix all of this?

I could feel that it was coming to an end. Everything was going to be dealt with. The climax was coming. And it terrified me. I had to make a decision before life made one for me.

I played out every scenario that I could come up with, tried to figure out a solution. But… it was hopeless. My world was about to be set ablaze and all I had were my tears to try to put the flames out.

There were only a few ways this would all end.

My parents were going to find out, I was certain. All the texting, midnight phone calls, and all the private “Mikey Time” during training would all catch up to me.

They would be mad, furious. They would take me out of the school, take away my phone, and take away my car keys. Take away all my freedom. I don’t think they would ever trust me again. My life would be hell.

And I would be separated from Monster, I needed him to survive this mess, I wouldn’t survive without him.

Another option I saw was that I leave, or Monster leaves me. I had been thinking of leaving a lot, but I didn’t want to do that, for his sake and mine.

Or I might run away with Monster and live out my sad and miserable life until I die and fall into hell.

Or… I die to escape it all.

All the ways I saw this ending were not pleasant. My whole life was about to be flipped over. There had to be a way for me to fix this, save it. I had to do something.

No matter how hard I tried, nothing worked. “Fixing” it seemed to only make things worse. If fixing it never worked… what choices was I left with?

I could run away with Monster. I didn’t want that, but I believed that was the only way I would survive. It felt so wrong, though. And I would have to leave everything I’ve ever known and hoped for. And it would hurt my family so bad, I doubted I would ever get to see them again. And it would destroy his family. Hurt his wife, children, and grandkids. I couldn’t live with that decision, I couldn’t do it.

So I was left with death. Death was the best choice, the only way out. My only escape from this mess. Escape from hurting more people. Escape from getting deeper lost in this. Escape from letting God down anymore.

I waited. I would decide what to do depending on how the week went, and I would act out my decision after the grappling seminar was over. I already knew what my decision was, all Monster’s plans and hopes for the coming week affirmed it.

The whole week was mapped out to be with him, classes, extra training, judging a test, and the grappling seminar. He had said he wanted to beat last week’s record of 12+ hours of talking over phone calls. And he said he was going to make me hold his hand as payment for something (I can’t remember what for) during private “Mikey Time”. And I couldn’t hope he was just my friend anymore, not with everything he had said and done. Everything had become too much. I knew what I had to do. March 28th would be the end, my end.

On the first day of my last week… the climax came.

(I plan to write another story about what all happened next, but for now, it’s a “To be continued”)

Groomers make you feel like this was all your fault, your choice. He gave me limited options, all “my choice” when in reality, they are all his options for you. And by giving you a “choice” it makes you feel like you have responsibility, like whatever the outcome is, it’s your doing. I was so torn and confused, part of me knew that this was not what I chose, and another part of me believed I did choose this, so I must want it. So I didn’t even have the right to ask for help because I was supposed to want this.

And when you have that confused view of it being your fault, it’s really hard to reach out to someone for help or guidance. And it was impossible for me to understand what was going on. I had a hard time even processing that a grown man was trying to convince me that he was in love with me and wanted me to run away with him, let alone know that he had bad things in mind for me. So, how could I reach out for help if I didn’t even understand what was happening?

And at the time, I really didn’t want to lose my friend, I never once thought he was guilty, I just thought he was hurting and was looking for happiness in the wrong places. I didn’t want to part from him, and I fought for him every chance I got. I believed I would literally die if I were separated from him. That blows my mind that he got me -a very independent, non-clingy person- to believe that! Losing Monster would end with me dying, so of course, I didn’t want to risk people separating me from him.

He had me convinced that my only way I would be happy, and survive, was if I never left him. I wish I could explain all the complex ways he dug into my brain and convinced me his lies were the truth, but I still don’t have an understanding of a lot of it. Some of it felt like flat-out brainwashing, like in the movies!

He painted a picture for me, a dark world where at every turn the people around me would strike, where I would be miserable unless I was with him, and force-fed it to me. It’s crazy how he took all the good things in my life, my family, my home, my passions, and twisted them, convincing me they were all dim and dark. And then he convinced me that all his plans for me were the good things in my life.

The process of grooming alone is a horrible and scary abuse. And that’s not even thinking of the horrific things it leads to, because it will NEVER lead to anything good. The man who groomed me stole, destroyed, diseased, and twisted so many parts of who I am through his grooming. He built a stronghold of pain and misery in my mind, convincing me that the only options I had were to run away with him or kill myself. Is that okay for an adult to make a child think like that? Does that count as abuse? Or was that just a misunderstanding? Just a not-careful-enough instructor with a naive student, getting too friendly?”

-Evelyn Dixon, survivor of Mike Stock, the Monster.