Child Abuse Story From

Child Abuse Story:

This child abuse story from Crystal page was originally posted September 29, 2006 as story #39.

Installment #2 was placed on this page October 24, 2006 and was originally posted October 2, 2006 as Story #40. Crystal is from Kent, Ohio, USA.

The following child abuse story from Crystal depicts sexual abuse of a very young child and emotional abuse.

The child abuse effects on Crystal: anorexia nervosa, severe depression, panic attacks, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

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Child Abuse Story From Crystal:

As soon as my father came home from the army he began to sexually abuse me. I was three years old. He began by fondling me and rubbing me against him in the bath tub. He would touch me at all times of the day, even right in front of my mother. He covered it up by pretending to tickle me.

I think I was six the first time that he raped me. I don't remember much, and I'm glad for that. What I do remember is too much. He continued until I was eleven. The fondling continued until I was fourteen. When I was either thirteen or fourteen I attempted to tell my mother what he had and was doing to me. She denied it completely. She accused me of making it up and threw me out of the house. I went back two days later. She pretended it never happened and still pretends to this day. Her denial hurt me more than the decade of abuse.

I was sexually abused or raped by a total of six people over a period of eighteen years. As a result I suffered (and still battle) anorexia, severe depression, panic attacks, and I was just diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder.

I'm in college now and trying to separate myself from my family and get therapy for what happened. If anyone still suffering from abuse is reading this now, please get help. Tell a school counselor or a teacher, just get out of the situation.

Child Abuse Story From Crystal
2nd Installment:

When I was five my mother would take me with her when she went to babysit my older cousins. They weren't really my cousins, they were my father's cousins. I always say it that way, my father's cousins. Bastards.

The younger of the two was eleven. He started by kissing me in the bathroom. I had been sexually abused before that, but never kissed. I almost enjoyed it. Then he began doing too much. He always pulled me into the bathroom. He touched me where my father had, he licked me, he forcibly made me give him oral. Always he pulled me into the bathroom.

I can remember one time being carried up into the attic. I was crying, I didn't want to go up there. He raped me up there. I couldn't even cry when he carried me back down. I think by that time I was six or seven--I know my father had already began to rape me. After that, the cousin left me alone though. It was over, with him.

About this time, my mother began to yell at me constantly for erasing her early memory. She had a very high fever after I was born and it damaged the part of her brain that kept memory. She would be sitting downstairs on the couch and just burst into tears. "What's wrong Mommy?" I wasn't allowed to cry, so I thought she was really hurt. She looked up at me through her long stringy hair and just screamed. She screamed like in a horror film and ran for me. I ran up to my room and just managed to get into the closet before she could get me. This happened almost as often as my father sexually abused me. She also began telling me that I was "the biggest mistake of her life," "a worthless little brat," and other similar things. If I cried, especially while my father was sexually abusing me, he would punch me in my stomach. As a result, I could never keep food down. Eventually I learned to just not eat.

I starved myself all through middle school. For three years I would go a week on only a piece of bread and three carrot sticks. I am surprised I didn't drop dead. I was able to make myself eat at the end of the eighth grade. I realized that my father liked the little girl, and if I was no longer a little girl he would leave me alone. I was right.

As soon as I grew small breasts he stopped abusing me. The problem is that high school boys really liked small quiet girls with breasts. The quiet ones were easy for them to take advantage of. I was brutally raped by a boy I had considered a friend. He took me to the woods behind our neighborhood and threw me down. He hit me and raped me. I didn't tell anybody because it had hurt so much when my mother hadn't believed what I had told her about my father. I was afraid to be punished for "making it up" again. My eating disorder returned and has been an on-and-off battle ever since.

Two years later I was molested by two different boys on a church mission trip. They fingered me and rubbed my hands on their genitals. I'm just glad they didn't want any more; I wouldn't have been able to fight. I was too conditioned to freeze by then.

The next year I got in a sexually and verbally abusive relationship. He threw me around, but never hit me. He was always yelling at me, though. Everything I did was wrong or not good enough--it felt like my mother. The first time he raped me I didn't actually say no or fight, I just froze in terror. He began dressing me up and parading me around like his little gothic Barbie. I was his to use and abuse. After eight months I was able to say no. He didn't like that. He threw me around more and raped me more. Eventually I managed to get some social support and get out of that.

Now I am engaged to a wonderful man who will never abuse me or our future children. I am unable to be sexually active with him due to the flashbacks, but I'm in therapy to hopefully end this and other symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

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NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red CrossCanadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.


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Child abuse story from Crystal was re-formatted May 31, 2015

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