Something that was dumb that I did (I’ve never been in this situation before, I was not prepared) was to not provide more proof. These are serious accusations. If I expect anyone to believe me then, yes, there should be proof.
- Sam and I exchanged texts before meeting. They were flirty. I flirted back. I thought he was charming and funny and yeah. No, I will not reveal his number. I don’t know if he’s changed it since and I’m not trying to get him bombarded. But people who had it will know it starts and ends the same. Here is some of our conversation. (He called me Broken Tits because my bra strap broke while I was serving his table. To this day I do not think he remembered my real name or bothered to learn it.)
- Description of apartment: (I’m not giving out the address. It is four numbers and the street name is one word ending in “way”. Others who have been there should know I was at least inside from this) I parked right out front, I parallel street parked. I don’t remember what the sign said about parking but there was one and I remember reading it and making sure I wouldn’t get towed. I remember buzzing his unit (the code was 098) and I didn’t have to talk to him, the doors just buzzed so I opened them. The lobby was confusing, big fancy gilded furniture. Lots of plants inside. Some of the walls were see through glass. Rich people shit. I got lost on my way out in the multiple rooms as I was disoriented. I think I took an elevator to get to his floor because I can’t for the life of me remember stairs. To be honest I don’t remember if it was the third or second floor. His door was all the way at the left end of the hall. Inside it went straight to the living room. The walls were white and bare. To the left behind it was a kitchen and the dog bed for the pug (he called it a name I didn’t understand, I thought it was Chester or something) was between the living room and kitchen. To be right was the hall. There was a big Grand Theft Auto poster hanging. It wasn’t messy but very bachelor pad-y. No lights were on. I remember trying to distract him by saying his dog was probably lonely out there and we should check on it but he dog needed its sleep for a shoot early the next morning for Purina? I never saw his room in the light. The head of the bed was up against the right wall. The floor was littered with clothes and stuff. I never found one of my socks and he probably still has it. The bed was bigger than a twin but I don’t know if it was a king, maybe a queen or double. The bathroom was, when entering the door, to the right, but I never saw it.
As I explained, there is no physical evidence. I went to Kaiser (I could probably get hospital records but that’s extreme), they said you can’t get a SART exam without filing a police report, that was out of the question for me, and still is, so I went home. I went to a rape clinic the next day for free treatment and they told me the same thing. I did not take pictures of the bruises on my hip and hid the cuts on my face with make up. I never had any intentions of doing anything about this. Besides forgetting it.
Yes, I wrote down what I wanted to say. It was a few pages of notebook paper, maybe enough for three minutes. I’d planned for this video to be very straightforward and confessional. (I apologize if I sound staged or rehearsed after telling this story to myself in my head for two and a half moths and after writing it down. When you figure out the correct way to tell your rape story, let me know.) I did not plan to get so… emotional. I edited out every long, shaky silence of deep breaths and also to be honest some screams and other embarrassing stuff and rambling. The full video included an extra ten minutes of crying, which isn’t what the message is about. I’m not here to show you a broken rape victim. I’m here to show you a broken man.
Posting this video did the opposite of benefitting me. It has outed me to public scrutiny, to rude and abusive comments, to shame and to fear. I am terrified of being contacted by Sam or his team. (Does he have one of those? How does this work? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.) I feel like rape is scary enough, but to go through a whole uglv scandal about mine is like second violation, and I hate this. I hate this. I want to delete the video. I want to forget again. I want to bury it.
I convinced myself there weren’t any others. That I was just gross or wrong or fat and Sam probably didn’t treat other girls like that. But his recent videos and the stories of others alerted me to the truth: that wasn’t the case. That’s when I realized what I’d done by not getting that exam and giving a name.
This does not define my life. He has not won. I am not broken. I will have a life that does not revolve around Sam Pepper. I do not want to wear the pain of what this man did on my sleeve for the rest of my life. This is why I ask that my anonymity be respected.