Child Abuse Story From Carter
by Carter
(Boston, Massachusetts, USA)
The 15-year-old boy trembled as the man touched him, to pull him closer. He thinks that it can't last very long this time because they were in the man's study and his wife would be home soon. He tried to pretend like he enjoyed it as the man kissed him. Tears began to fall from his eyes and he tried to hold them in because he didn't want to make the man mad. He still had bruises from the last time he'd made him mad.
Suddenly, the door came open and the man's wife stepped in. She stopped short as she saw her husband and their son kissing. The boy looked at his mother and turned away quickly because of the look in her eyes. She stormed out and his father followed. He didn't know what his father said to her but he could hear their whispering voices. Then his mother came back into the room with a look that if looks could kill, he would've been dead.
She came up to him and slapped him, hard. She said, "How could you? Did you think it would be fun to try to seduce your father while he had been drinking? You should be ashamed of yourself. I guess you've slept with every girl in your school now and had to move in on your father. You're so lucky I don't send you to boarding school but then you'd probably ruin someone else's life there!" She slapped him again and left out, slamming the door. He didn't know what to do. That was the one person he'd thought about telling so many times but now? He looked up and noticed his father with an arrogant grin on his face. As if he could get away with anything now. He came up to him and lifted his face so he had to look into his father's eyes. His father said, "I told you no one would ever believe you. Your mother knows that you've slept around and she so easily believed me when I told her that you'd tried to seduce me." His father laughed, as if he found that amusing. "If your own mother believes that you're that big of a, hmmm, what's the word? Whore...maybe, but that would be putting it lightly." Then he laughed again. "Come on, dinner's almost ready. We'll finish what we started later tonight." His father kissed again and pulled him out of the study towards the dining room.
That is one of the many memories, but nowhere near the worse, that I have of my father sexually abusing me. There were so many nights where I wished he'd kill me or hit me in the head to knock me unconscious just so I could get relief. My mother never asked me how old I was when I first "seduced" him. I was 10. And we all know how sexy 10-year-old boys are. I don't think she knows how much her words hurt me that day. It was like she was spitting back everything that he'd ever told me.
I had always worried that I had done something to make him do those things to me. When it first started, I didn't know what rape was, or that boys could be raped. We all got warned about the stranger with the puppy, but my stranger with the puppy lived in the house with me. I felt like if my mother didn't believe me, who would?
I had to listen to him tell me how stupid and dumb I was. He'd call me a retard because I stuttered so badly (which usually only got bad when he was around). I took everything he said to heart, like how I'd never get into a good college without his money. No matter what my grades were, they were never good enough. I felt stupid and dumb even though I graduated valedictorian of my class. He didn't even clap at my graduation. I did sleep around, though I'm not proud to admit it. I did drugs. I even tried to run away a couple of times. Nobody ever asked why.
College was my escape, at least until the holidays. I met someone there who changed my life. Her name is Roxanne. The first thing I noticed about her was her Southern accent. She was a like a fireball and she tried to include me in everything with her. We had organic chemistry together and she helped me and I helped her. It was like she saw through my walls I had put up and saw the sadness and the pain. She also introduced me to the greatest gift anyone can receive: Jesus. I had seen she always wore a ring on her left ring finger and I asked her about it. She said that she had gotten it her senior year of high school because she wanted the whole world to see that she had made a promise to Jesus and herself to stay sexually pure until marriage. My parents never went to church so I really didn't know much about God. When she told me how awesome it was to have Christ in your life, I realized I wanted that peace, that joy and happiness she always seemed to have. The only thing stopping me was that I felt like God couldn't possibly forgive me some of the things I had done. I told her that. She said that God doesn't measure some sins greater than others. They are all the same. But would God want someone as broken as me? Or damaged goods, as my father used to call me? She told me yes because if we were all perfect, there would be no need to have God.
I decided that I would accept Christ. It was an amazing feeling. Indescribable. I think I floated on cloud nine until my next visit home and my father brought me back down to reality. Roxanne could tell something was wrong. She said that we all would go through trials that sometimes seem like they're too much to bear. But God has things to happen for a reason. I couldn't figure out why he'd let my father hurt me. What reason was behind it? Then Roxanne looked at me long and hard and said that as a Christian, we had to forgive anyone who hurts us, no matter how hurtful it was. It was like she knew about my dad. And the things he'd done to me.
My story is getting too long so I'll have to finish it later. It felt good to write this part down though.
Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at
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Child Abuse Story From Carter Part 2
by Carter
(Boston, Massachusetts, USA)
My dad's sexual abuse and physical abuse had taken a toll on my emotional state and physical state. I would sometimes go days without eating or sleeping. I would have terrible stomach aches and headaches. I would do marijuana with my friends even though I didn't enjoy it. I only did it to dull out my reality. Alcohol was another big problem that I had. When a person drinks, he can forget what is real, if only for a little while. I could forget about what would happen when the day turned to night. I could forget the feel of his fist whenever he got mad.
I had never considered when my dad called me stupid, dumb, or "retard" as abuse. He would call me other names I dare not repeat. He called me retard, one of his favorite words, because I stuttered, and it got a lot worse whenever I was around him. At school, I could talk pretty well without anyone noticing a little slip here and there, but around my dad every word was screwed up. And he used this to make me feel bad. Everything he said about me, I believed. I really felt stupid. No matter how good my grades were or the fact that I was valedictorian of my class ever raised my self esteem. I was very good at hiding this however. I had a lot of friends and none of them ever noticed anything was wrong with me or tried to get that close to me. That is until college. I met Roxanne, who I mentioned in my earlier post. I sometimes refer to her as my "earthly angel." She saw through every barrier I had built and forced her way into my life, though not in a bad way. She said she didn't like to see people suffer and saw that I was suffering and needed help. she didn't sugar coat it. She just said it plainly. It was something I needed to hear. Before her I think I would have considered myself an atheist. I didn't necessarily believe in God or any higher power. I never had anyone to teach me because my parents were in no way religious. God was just this spiritual "being" people had made up for comfort. At least that was what I thought. Roxanne taught me that Christianity was not about some higher being sitting in the clouds being a dictator over people. He loved everyone and everything. I asked her once why if God loved us so much, did we have to suffer? She looked me straight in the eyes and said, "If we don't suffer, how can we appreciate the good times that come?" I had never thought about it that way and of course it makes perfect sense. That was before I had actually converted over to Christianity. The coolest thing about Roxanne was that she didn't try to force her religion on me. She would bring it up or answer any questions I had but she never forced it upon me. She says that that is what Jesus wanted his people to do. To teach his word and spread the good news. But he also says you can't convert someone who doesn't want to be converted. That's his job. God dealt with me. I was still a little stubborn on the idea that the "guy upstairs" cared anything about me. I was "damaged goods," as my father said. I was too messed up, and had done too many horrible things. How could he love me? I saw the peace and joy Roxanne had but I didn't know how to obtain it. I knew I wanted it badly but I couldn't surrender my heart to something I didn't know.
Then I had a dream that changed my life. I was standing in the middle of nowhere but there was a screen with my life on it. I saw all of the bad things that had happened to me and all of the bad things I had done. I was ashamed looking back on it. Then I heard this voice saying to me that everything was going to be okay. God loved me no matter the sin, which seemed so big to me. He cared about me. I wasn't "damaged." To him I was perfect in my imperfections, no matter what I looked liked to the world. The feeling that came over me is indescribable. When I woke up I felt for sure that God had brough that message just for me. That night I resolved to give Jesus my life. I was 19 then. I didn't go home my whole freshemen year, the summer, or the first half of my sophomore year until Christmas. When I did, I felt that nothing could get me down because of my newfound faith. My self-esteem was higher and I had stopped doing drugs and alcohol. My dad no doubt noticed the change in me. And he resolved to break it. He told me that he didn't like my "attitude problem." I was being disrespectful to him and my mother. His usual attack of verbal abuse to bring down my self-esteem. To make me feel like I had no self worth. It worked. When I got back to college Roxanne noticed something was wrong. I had to overcome this trial I had encountered while at home. At that time she didn't know about my dad's abuse though I think she suspected but was waiting on me to tell her. She also looked at me in a way only she could and said that I had to forgive. She never brought up that again in our last two years of college together but I thought about it continuosly. Could I forgive my dad? And my mom?
Well, my story is getting long again and I'll have to finish the rest later. May God bless you and I hope you got something out of this second part of my life.
Note from Darlene: I welcome you to follow me on my Facebook page at
Healing from Child Abuse. When you get there, don't forget to click onto the Become a Fan link. I hope to hear from you there!
Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in submissions and visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited. Please don't include them, as they will be removed.
