When I was probably 8 or so, my oldest brother started "wrestling" with me. It started out as something along the lines of 3 of my brothers, him included, and I having pillowfights and taking turns wrestling in the basement. Although I didn't like the wrestling, my brothers also engaged so I was sort of pressured into it. Then one time my parents told us all to stop doing that - almost immediately, the wrestling circle stopped, as did the pillowfights. Except they didn't stop for me. Every time I went into the basement alone (to watch a movie, to see who was downstairs, to see if we had ice cream in the freezer, etc.), my brother (whose room was downstairs) would do one of several things. He would wrestle me to the couch and lie on top of me, my face down. Struggling was worse, because it was almost as if he had more control or got more enjoyment out of keeping me down. If I tried to get up, he would wrestle me back down to the couch.
Soon the wrestling sort of relocated - instead of being wrestled to the couch (sometimes) he would wrestle me to the bed in his room. From there, I remember very little, but I'll write some of the memories I can remember:
1. I remember playing some sort of poker game with him, wherein having lost, I had to pull down my pants and let my brother kiss my butt.
2. I remember licking the duct tape off my mouth, after which my brother stuffed a pair of socks into my mouth and put a new piece on
3. I remember being in a partially mesh bag meant for holding those mummy sleeping bags for camping
4. I remember feeling something (I have it in my mind as a flashlight) being pushed against my **** (but I do not remember whether it was inserted)
5. I remember having my best friend over to watch movies downstairs - I was pulled into my brothers room (I don't remember what happened there), and when I walked out of it my brother pulled my best friend into his room. I remember hearing her cry as I stared at the TV. She called her mom that night (much later) to have her pick her up (it was one of the early sleep-overs, so nothing was suspected). The next time I saw her (for more than 5 minutes) was when she enrolled in my highschool. She had severe anorexia, and at the time a boyfriend who promoted it.
6. I remember either seeing or hearing about my younger brother being tied to a cupboard in our laundry room (downstairs) dressed in a pink tutu. My parents were aware of this, and told me that they were very mad at my oldest brother for doing so. We have not ever mentioned it since.
Those are probably my most vivid memories. In 8th grade, my English teacher insinuated that he had a strange and unwelcomed relationship with his older half-brother. Immediately knowing what he meant, I began emailing him for emotional support (but not telling him my own experiences). Then one day after school I met with him in his classroom because I had implied in one of my emails that I had had an unwelcomed relationship with my own brother. After telling me that he had been raped as a child by his half-brother (more than once), I told him that I thought my brother had done something like molested me. He then informed me that he had to tell the head of the guidance department and the principal, and within 48 hours they would have to meet with my parents. The school also called the police, who interrogated my brother about it - he was terrified, and denied having done anything. After meeting with my parents, the principal, and the head of guidance, I met with the police, who essentially told me that I had been molested, allowing my parents to claim leading questions.
The situation had totally blown out of proportion, and I think the process of investigation was as traumatic than the wrestling.
The police required that my brother and I be separated for 60 days. I lived with my grandfather for that time, separated from the rest of my family. I pretty much stopped talking to anyone for that time period and for the rest of the year. Having no support and no contact with my best friend, I continued to email my teacher who later interpreted one of my emails to mean that I was suicidal (I was not, to my knowledge). The principal, guidance counselor, and my parents met with me again, demanding I tell them what I meant. I was so horrified at what I had started, and engrained into my mind that I should not ever tell people how I feel or whether someone is hurting me. Having seen a couple of therapists and having a wonderful boyfriend has let down this wall some, after 4 years of holding it up.
To this day, my parents disapprove of my actions. When those 60 days were over, I apologized to my brother for what I had done. Still feeling guilty, I apologized again a year or two later. I continue to feel uncomfortable near him, even though I know there is not even a chance of him hurting me again.
The relevance to your story - my parents sided with my brother, and I was the wrong-doer. It's easier to pretend that something didn't happen than to accept that someone you love did something horrible.