Dear Prudie,
When I was 14 years old, I became involved with a man more than a decade older than myself who was in a position of authority. Here was an adult who could see how special and grown-up I was! I lived in an abusive and neglectful household and was horribly insecure about my appearance, so I might as well have had “perfect victim” stamped on my forehead. He was charming, took me out on dates, and bought me alcohol. But he made me lie to other people about how old I was. Then one night he raped me. I’ve always resisted calling it that though, because I keep thinking I could have done more to prevent it. When I told my mother what had happened she said it was my fault and now I had to let him do whatever he wanted. I never told anyone else. As time went on he became physically, emotionally, and sexually abusive. Eventually, I ended the relationship. For years afterward, he stalked me. He alternated between sobbing pleas to get back together and rage-filled threats. He started showing up places where he knew I’d be. He’d leave messages with suggestions on how I could lose a few pounds or start wearing more makeup. Eventually his erratic behavior got him fired and he disappeared for a couple of years. Then he showed up again and again. I changed my name twice and address often in an attempt to keep him from finding me. I believed that one day he would kill me.
Decades have passed and it’s been years since he’s contacted me. I’ve made a good life for myself, considering where I came from. I have a wonderful husband and beautiful children. I eventually got my doctorate and am respected in my field. But despite years of therapy, I can’t escape this. From time to time I would “stalk” him. I wanted to know what he was doing. I guess I just felt safer knowing where he was. Recently, I found out that he had married a woman with a young child. They then had a child. At first, I thought he must have changed. But the more I thought about it, the less I can believe that. People like him don’t change; they can fool people for a while, but they never really change. And now I can’t stop thinking and worrying about this family. I’m scared for this woman and her children, but I don’t want to contact her. I can’t let him know where I am. Sometimes I think I should have gone to the police long ago. Maybe other people have already gotten hurt because I was too scared to do anything. How can I be at peace?