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Abuse / Survival Stories > My Missing Years

It started when I was about four, but I didn't remember it happening until I was 18 because that's when the flashbacks started. 
My parents were divorced when I was a baby, and both remarried. We lived with our mother, and every other weekend, my sister, brother, and I would spend the weekend at our father's. My sister is 10 years older than me and my brother, 4. When I was 8, I found out our father had been raping my sister for 10 years. I was so confused...Like I said, when I was 18, I starting remembering things that he did to me. Now, my sister never talked to me about the details of what he did to her, but when I told her the details of my flashbacks, She broke down. He had done the same things to me that he did to her. I was shocked. I was hoping these memories weren't real. 
Over the past five years, I have started to remember more and more. 
This is what I remember: 
Sometimes when we were alone, he would bring me into the bathroom with him (I'm ashamed of this now because I didn't know anything was wrong, but I know I felt a little uncomfortable) and he would sit on the toilet seat and tell me to bend over in front of him. Sometimes he would just touch my bottom, other times he would put his finger in there, or my "girl part".  At night, I would wake up with my pants and panties pulled down, and my rectum would hurt. I'm sure there are more things I can't recall yet. I don't know how I was able to suppress such horrible things and shove them to the darkest recesses of my mind. Although, I think a part of me knew all these years. The anger problems, the depression, and I could never be in the same room with a man without being extremely uncomfortable or afraid for some reason. Even now, I feel the same way. I so desperately wish I could forget it all.
 PART 2.........      
Since I was 11,  I have been molested by another family member and raped 3 times. The rapes came after I was 13, which is the age I started cutting and burning myself. I got into deep depressions and by the time I was 18, I had been in the psychiatric ward 14 times, the state mental hospital 3 times, 2 residental facilities for teens, and 5 group homes. I practically lived within the state system for 5 years. I never felt like my mother wanted me around or wanted to help me deal or even just have a simple mother-daughter talk. She was never the kind of mother that showed affection, just knew you were there. When I turned 18, I ran away from the group home I was in and met a guy 16 yrs my senior. The cops found me, brought me back, and I signed out legally. I left with the guy I met, and we found a place to stay after being homeless for 3 days. He wasn't so bad...at first. It started with a smack to the head because I pushed the cat off the bed. A month later, he was talking about us moving down to Florida, because all his family is down there. 1 month after that, he talked me into cashing a stolen check from our roommate. In 2 weeks, we were getting off the bus in Tallahassee, Fl. I didn't know it then, but I had just stepped into my own personal hell. For three years, he forced me to sell my body for money, whether it be on the streets, or in 1 of 14 strip clubs I worked in over 3 yrs time. Everytime I tried to leave, he would beat me until I was black and blue all over. Blocking the doorway and shoving me into furniture, throwing hard objects at me, giving me black eyes and choking me until I passed out. Even drugs, oh God, every single day. Getting me so high, that my heart feels like its going to explode. I wanted to die so badly. I wasn't allowed to talk my family; he had erased ALL of their numbers. He said if I left, he would call the cops and show them the paraphenalia, or show up at my job and announce to everyone that I was a drug addict. Or that I had diseases (which was a lie). He was smart, I'll give him that. But how could somebody be so cruel? After a while, he let me talk to my family. About a year later, I was at work and I talked to my sister and she sent me the confirmation codes to a plane ticket back to Jersey. I took a cab straight to the airport right then and there, punched in the code at the counter and printed my tickets. I didn't even think about looking back once...I'm so grateful I got away. If I had not left then, I would be dead now. Please, if you got to the end of part 2 of my story, don't be afraid to get out of a situation like mine. I know how scary it is. I was just a young girl, and everything he taught me, I believed. I was gullible and I hope my story teaches someone otherwise. Be safe :)
For more information on coping with abuse...visit here..Womensselfesteem's Abuse Blog



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