child abuse story from Matt page was created May 5, 2007 and was originally
posted on April 25, 2007 as story #107.
is from Sydney, New South Wales, Australia
following child abuse story from Matt depicts physical abuse, emotional abuse,
child neglect and sexual abuse.
The child abuse effects on Matt: fear, feelings of worthlessness, fantasies of death in order to escape the abuse, nightmares, night sweats
Do you want to be heard? Share your story!
As far as I remember, it started when I was about 3. My big sister would have been 6 at the time.
Our father drank a lot. If there was the slightest mess, a single toy on the ground, anything, he would call us in the room. This was followed by him screaming at us, "Why is that ball on the ground, Matthew (or Emma)?"
"Dunno Daddy. Sorreeey," we'd say, then pick up whatever was on the floor.
"Do you know anything? You stupid little brat!" he would scream.
My father would often pick us up and drop us on the ground. He would throw things at us. Heavy things, like dictionaries or lamps. If he walked into a room and we were sitting down, he would push us off the chair we sat on. If, according to him, we had been rude or naughty during the day, at dinner he would throw our food on the floor. "Eat up! If you are going to act like a dog, then eat like one! Well, go on!" he said, as he pushed us to the ground.
When he came home late at night from the pub, he would come into our bedroom and drag us out of our bed to give us a beating.
The whole time this was going on, my mum just sat back and did nothing. She never tried to stop my father. She didn't even hug us or tell us that she loved us. "You guys! What do you think you are doing making your dad so angry like that. Will the two of you smarten up for once. Now run off to bed before daddy sees you, sweeties," was all she ever said. At least she didn't shout. She just got annoyed.
When I was 6, I was at my aunt's house. When she hugged me, I flinched away. Later, she made me take my top off and saw a huge bruise on my back, as well as a few little old ones. She had witnessed my dad bullying us a few times, so it was then she called Child Services.
My aunt was only about 22 (12 years younger than my parents) at the time, so she was in stage to take care of us. This meant we were sent to foster parents.
Our new "parents" seemed great. They already fostered three kids who were all siblings. There were twin boys 12, and their sister who was 10. We had to share rooms. I slept with the boys. My sister, with the girl. They told us they had been living there the last 5 years.
Just a week after we moved in, it all started again. Our new "parents" were truly evil. They beat us with sticks and threw us in the air so we would smack the floor. We only got one meal a day. We were made do whatever they wanted, like washing dishes, preparing them snacks or scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush.
They called us names and said we were worthless. They told us no one loved us. Sometimes they burned us with cigarette butts.
After about two months, they told us in order for us to live there and not be locked in jail, we had to do something special. We were made watch the twins have sex and then each have sex with their sister. My sister and I were then told to have sex. We wouldn't do it, but the man took out a stick and hit us till we did. I remember one of the twins begging us to do it, saying it was best for us, that we didn't want to know what could happen if we didn't. This happened about once a month from then on.
We were made to feel worthless. To make matters worse, we were home-schooled, so we didn't have much contact with the outside world.
About every 6 months, a social worker came to check up on us. For the 3 days before the social worker would come, everything around the house changed. It was perfect. We all got 3 meals a day. At breakfast each morning, we were all given a gift, the kind of toys you get at a gas station. But we didn't care. It was still a present. We were even allowed to go outside and play on the swing set and sandbox in the front garden. They didn't touch us except to give us a hug before bed.
On the day the social worker came, we all had a new set of clothes to wear. When the social worker asked us if everything was all right, of course we all said, "Yeah, everything is great!" because it was true. Everything was great . . . well, for the last few days. The second that social worker was out the door was the second everything went back to normal.
I remember that on those days before the social worker came, I prayed to God it would never end. At night, I never wanted to go to bed. I wanted to stay and be a real kid for once and play with my toys. This was the opposite to the "normal" days. On those days, I would count down the hours to bedtime, when I could sleep away from all this torture. I would cry myself to sleep and pray that this would all end. At one stage, I remember wishing I would never wake up, wishing that I could die.
A few weeks after my 11th birthday, five years after I had moved into this house, the girl who was not my sister was sent to hospital. She had a severe concussion and wouldn't stop bleeding. The nurse found other cuts and bruises on her. A social worker was sent to the house.
She examined each of us and concluded that we were being abused. My aunt, the same one who had reported us five years earlier, heard about this and decided to take my sister and I in.
Life wasn't easy after that. We were sent to a school, and since I had only been in one for a year back when I was really little, this was a bit scary for me. Some kids would bully me and my sister. A year later, we changed schools, and then everything was ok.
Sometimes, when our aunt when to hug me, out of reflex I would jump back, scared.
I've learnt a lot over the years. It's been hard and I have had to cope with a lot. I wake up at night in a sweat after a long nightmare and have to pinch myself to make sure its not all some dream and that I'm still with those abusive foster parents.
I'm just happy it's all over now.
NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.
Child abuse story from Matt was re-formatted June 4, 2015
From Victim to Victory
How I got over the devastating effects of child abuse and moved on with my life
Apr 18, 17 11:04 AM
I was in my 10th standard and like every girl, I was very conscious of the weight problem. I used to go to my Music tuitions in the evening, and once I
Apr 13, 17 10:32 AM
I am having a dream about my abusive stepfather where he wants my brother and me to change his soiled diaper. He started abusing me at the age of three
Apr 11, 17 12:23 PM
It started when I was around 13. I didn't have my mom growing up so I was always angry. Always fighting and getting into trouble. When my uncle came home