I was 6 years old when my father started sexually molesting me. It
happened while I was sitting in his lap watching TV one night. My
father was an optometrist who worked in a big city about 50 miles
away from where we lived. We lived in a low income housing project,
which never made much sense to me considering what my father did for
a living. Anyway, my father would stay in the city all week and
come home on the weekends. At that time my family consisted of My
parents and me and my twin brother, my other siblings were not born
until I was a teenager. Every Friday night our family would sit in
the living room and watch tv together. I always sat in my father's
lap and my brother always laid on the floor. My mother was usually
asleep on the couch. I can't really remember exactly how it
started, but my father started touching in places he shouldn't and
when I tried to push his hand away, he told me that it was ok for
him to do that because I was his little girl and he was just trying
to show me how much he loved me. He said that if I loved him, I
would not try to stop him, then he said, little girls who love their
daddies give them special touches too. He started making me touch
him in places I shouldn't. This went on for about 2 years and
eventually my father bought a second tv so that my mother and
brother could watch upstairs, leaving me and my father alone
downstairs.
When I was 8 years old, my father forced sex on me for the first
time. I didn't make it easy for him and I made alot of noise which
my mother heard, but ignored. The next morning my mother woke me up
and ordered me to take a bath. She came into the bathroom while I
was bathing and started calling me names. She got a scrub brush and
scrubbed me so hard that I had abrasions all of my body. She said
that she was ashamed of me and that, if I wanted to act like an
adult, she was going to treat me like one. She said that I was no
longer her daughter so if I wanted to stay there I had better start
earning my keep. She also said that if I ever told anyone what my
father and I did that I would go to jail for a long time. At the
age of 8 I didn't know any better and this put a real fear in me.
Not long after that night that my father raped me he brought home 2
of his brothers, my uncles and let them do the same thing to me.
One night I took a bottle of pills and laid down to die, but my brother knew there was
something wrong and got help. After that attempt, I was sent to see
a psychologist. This man asked me alot of questions about why I had
done that and eventually I told him what my father and his brothers
had done to me. It turnd out that the psychologist was a pedophile
so telling him only made my problems worse. He started telling me
to show him what they did to me. I was confused and afraid not to
do what I was told, so I did show him, he told me to show him how my
father had made me sit in his lap. I did and then he started doing
the same thing to me that my father did.
One night our phone rang, my mother answered and when she was
finished talking she told me to go get dressed because my father
wanted to see me. When I was dressed, she walked me to a building
that I would later call The Tower. This was a sort of club, there
were apartments downstairs and a set of stairs on the outside of the
building leading to a bar room on the second floor. When I walked
in I saw my father and the psychologist talking. My father walked
up to me and said, " you are going to spend the night here",. I was
made to stay with the psychologist in one of the apartments that
night where he repeatedly raped me and forced me to have oral sex
with him. After that night, I would be taken to "The Tower" every
Friday and Saturday night and forced to have sex with men who had
paid my father for it. Eventually, my brother was also forced to
have sex for money.
I had no choice about doing these things. If I resisted, I was
burned with cigarettes and sometimes my mother would take me home
and make me stay in the closet until I was ready to do what I was
told.
I had a very good friend who I nicknamed Sticks when I was growing
up. Actually we were nicknamed Sticks and Bones when we were
together. Not realizing how dangerous "The Tower" was, I took
Sticks to show her where it was, because she kept asking where I go
on the weekends. I didn't realize that she would show up there
again. One night when my mother walked me to "The Tower", Sticks
was sitting on the steps crying. There were police cars there and
my mother looked really scared. She old me to stay with my friend
while she went inside to see what was wrong. Sticks looked at me
with tears rolling down her face and told me that my father had
raped her. I called her a liar and ran inside. Everybody was
talking and nobody really noticed that I was standing there. I
heard Sticks yell, "hey Bones, come here, I want to show you
something",. I went outside and saw Sticks standing on the railings
with a cord around her neck. She looked at me and jumped, hanging
herself. I was 12 years old when this happened and I had completely
blocked this awful memory for years.
Soon after Sticks died, I discovered I was pregnant. My mother was
angry and started beating me with a ball bat. My twin brother
jumped up to try to stop her and got hit in the head with the bat.
His skull was fractured and to this day he still suffers the affects
of that. 15 days after my 13th birthday, my son was born. He was
immediately adopted by my aunt and uncle.
Because of the things that were happening to me I acted out alot and
I got into trouble alot. I was arrested for attempted grand theft
auto at the age of 12. I was arrested for underage drinking at the
age of 10. Yes, I developed a serious drinking problem as a child
which followed me all my life until 3 years ago when I got sober.
When I was 13, I was sent to Juvenile Hall for trying to poisen my
father.
When I was 15 years old someone finally realized that there was
something going on in that house and brother and I were finally
rescued from our abusive home. Today, I have been in therapy for a
little over a year and I am doing well. My brother and I have both
been diagnosed with DID. We kept it all a secret until 2 years ago
when my brother suffered a breakdown and started talking. I have a
wonderful therapist.
Today I am no longer a victim, I am a survivor
Carol
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Carol
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