I have been debating on writing about this due to some behavior I receive anytime I speak up and out about my rape.
The story is not one of being raped in college at a party.
Mine is of trying to survive in the world. I was depressed and struggling, Just trying to survive on life’s terms, I had lost my job, dropped out of school, lost my fiancé, and then my home after an abortion. I had no history of drug abuse, alcoholism, seeing things, hearing things, nothing. Just depression. Just normal depression after an abortion, and then I LOST EVERYTHING that mattered to me.
I remember finding myself at a local homeless shelter. My car broke down, I had ran to a hotel for safety, well I thought thats what I was doing. The year prior I was engaged, in college, employed, and rising on the success ladder in my career. I was happy and my world was beautiful. But there I was, Needing food, in the dead heat of summer. I had ran here because of a room mate intimidating me, She was a felon. She kept threatening to do things to me she learned in prison. She hated me. I kept trying to get her to go to school. Encourage her, befriend her, try. It didn’t turn out that way.
She threatened to hurt me and have her friends hurt me. So I ran, and there I was at the local homeless shelter, reeling from the insanity that just happened, and then that’s when he found me. His name is William Burke Martin, and he chose me before I knew I was chosen. He seemed like just some guy trying to survive like me. I didn’t think I was going to get raped by him. I knew not to trust him, How many people are going to read this and say it was my fault.
I needed to go to the doctor, I was coughing up green shit from the infection I received from the mold in the house I was living in the basement. I had just maxed out my credit card to stay at a hotel where I was going stir crazy with fear. My mind and myself was not in control, I was being controlled by the fear caused by someone else. I was loosing it. debating. But instead I went and tried to find a safe place at the homeless shelter.
And he offered to take me to the doctor. I was so tired. I accepted. He had gotten my number from a person at the shelter and had been very persistent in trying to be my friend. I had already called the cops on him spoke with an officer at the homeless shelter. I knew he had unsavory motives. Honestly in some way, I just knew he wasn’t safe.
But I got in that car that day with him. We got to the doctors office, the last time I had been there was with my ex fiancé, the last time I thought I was still in love and everything would be okay. I sat there with the memories of that day and waited filled with anxiety. He got nervous, he said we had to leave, I told him to leave me there, I’d be fine and thank you. But he coerced me to go to another doctor, I realized my health insurance was no longer available so I said yes. Oh I went to the doctor that night, but not the way I thought.
He drove me across the river, He said he had a friend named John he wanted me to meet, John and his wife were Buddhist. He started saying things to me that he had learned from the people at the homeless shelter, To coerce me into trusting him. He knew my ex’s name, my religion, etc. etc. and I sat in fear afraid because I didn’t know how he knew that, I didn’t know how to get away, I wasn’t thinking straight at that point. The police informed me it was due to the trauma level and trying to survive. They told me afterwards that I had been so exhausted my body was shutting down, couldn’t make decisions besides basic things. They call it the being in the Black, like when you are trying to survive out in the woods without water and food, just moving, and you can’t do anything, not even think.
I was on the phone with my doctor’s office, riding in his car, and they said they would see me, I told him to turn around and take me back, I’ll be fine. He grabbed the phone out of my hands right then and punched me in the face. He pulled over into the woods off a street, dirt road, woods, I opened the car door, my mind screaming run, he grabbed me by the back of my shirt. I didn’t escape.
I’m just 29 I’m going to die. I’m not supposed to be here, I’m supposed to be home, but I lost home almost a year ago. I was supposed to be married not here! He scratched my neck and put me in a chock hold. The car door swinging in his orange Honda Element. My legs hanging out. “Why did you call the cops on me!” He screamed.
Then he pulled out the knife. A steak knife like the ones at Outback Steakhouse.
He Stopped the car, grabbed my right hand, and cut me. “You going to mind now?” It lacerated my palm right underneath my pointer finger. I Saw the fat underneath my skin. Blood everywhere.
As I write this I think of all the times I’ve reached out for help desperately before this happened. And The memories come in like flashes. Very distracting. I’m going to push through. There is so much, so many details, so many avenues that could have gone a different direction, but somehow I wound up here in this car in this moment.
Then it happened all the dirty horrible things that happened. I remember a friend of mine, who I discovered is no friend especially after the rape, gave me those black board shorts. I was supposed to move in with her after the break up, and she backed out. That’s how I wound up living with those people. Desperation. It seemed so safe at the time.
Then he pulled out the camera. The videos saved on his video camera of bondage sex. White women with black men. He made me watch. I had to comply or die. I knew it right then. I wondered if that was the guy he sent after me downtown while I was applying for jobs to keep my housing at Our House, and then there was the dude who followed me to unemployment. His friends approached me and told me he was keeping an eye on me for him, and that’s when I chose to call the cops. That was two days ago.
He raped me. Both anally, orally, and sexually. This 50 year old white man was raping me against my will with a knife in his hand. I was old enough to be his daughter. When he finished he stole my iphone, my ID, and my money in my wallet. He gave me the tracphone to keep. So he could call me. He stole The last $400 I had.
He gave me a huge liter of bottled water. He came on my chest when he finished. I later discovered this was to prevent the DNA confirmation on the rape kit later. He made me wash myself and handed me a towel. It was 90 degrees outside. I stood naked, in the woods, asking myself how can I stay alive.
I’m lucky he didn’t use the knife to rape me with.
He told me if I called the cops he would kill me. He was going to find me and kill me. I got dressed and back in the car. I followed orders. He dropped me off at the bus station in little rock. He raped me in north little rock. He did this on purpose. Jurisdiction.
I stood at the little rock bus station. “Don’t go to the cops or I’ll kill you.”
I went to the cops. I walked into the station downtown and just said, “I was raped.” They called an ambulance. I went to UAMS. I called so many people. I kept trying to remember their numbers. I hadn’t eaten that day. I took photos of myself. They took photos. They stitched me up. They got the kit, took my clothes, combed my pubic hair. Swabed my mouth. Asked me questions. This part is hard for me to remember, the aftermath, their were people in the ER room with me. People I knew.
Then they all left. I got a ride to the homeless shelter, grabbed my stuff, told them who did it, there were people from the homeless shelter at the hospital too. I had been up 48 hours at this point. I went to Dorcas house. I left Dorcas house. Then I left the state for a year. That was 2013.
Family tried to help. I was inconsolable. I was a mess. I kept trying to overcome. I kept failing. The anxiety, my health, my memories, my self. I was so confused. I was so wounded and hurt. So angry, so enraged, so crazy.
William Burke Martin I later found out was a third level sex offender that had just been released from prison. He had obsconded on his parole when I had been raped. They caught him. I never had a chance to prosecute. I could if I truly wanted to, but I couldn’t. He spent a year in prison after my rape and was sent out of the state when I got home, back to Arkansas.
I had escaped human trafficking.
I had escaped human trafficking in Little Rock, Arkansas.
That was my rape. I almost killed myself. That’s another story.
Today I’m home. I’m healthy. I’m no longer confused and paranoid. I go to therapy. I have PTSD, or post rape trauma syndrome, I have depression. I take antidepressants. I am employed. I’m going back to school. I am becoming more like myself everyday. I may be a survivor.
At least I hope I am, I don’t always feel like a survivor, because of the memories, the problems with dating. Rape victim shaming. I work on recovering from not just the rape itself, but the financial ramifications, the bankruptcy, the identity fraud, the invasion of privacy, my own emotional lashing out and destructive behavior, the judgement and disbelief of other people, the recovering from the emotional brutality of it all, the medical misdiagnosing, the physical anxiety and panic attacks, the skepticism and the blaming. The spiritual fall out. I’m not at fault.
It’s not my god damn fault.
And how dare anyone have the audacity to say that to me or to anybody.
It’s not our faults. Educate yourself on how to help someone that goes through it. There are So many resources, anyone who says they don’t know how. Find a way! No more excuses! It could save a life, and if it happened to you, you’d want that from people, you’d want that for yourself.
My name is Carrie Crocker and I was raped. Thank you for reading. Thank you Mom and Selayne for saving my life.