Child Abuse Story From A
by Anonymous
(South Carolina, USA)
The first time I remember being abused I was 4 years old. My dad took me on a fishing trip for my birthday. I was turning 5 the next day. He backed his truck up to the water, and we sat there for a while. Then he got up and took my fishing pole from me. He picked me up and slid me down to the edge of the tailgate. He told me we were going to play a game and it was a secret Mommy couldn’t know. He pulled my panties off and I squirmed away from him. He jerked me back down on to the truck and told me I needed to be a good girl for Daddy, and that he wanted to show me just how much he loved me. I didn’t really understand what was going on. I just felt like something was very wrong.
He started touching me. He unzipped his pants and made me touch him. He made me put his thing in my mouth. He grabbed my head when I tried to pull away. I was choking and gagging. I remember something coming out my nose and I couldn’t breathe. He laughed and told me I was such a good girl. He still had a funny look on his face. He told me we were going to try something else.
He made me lay back and pulled me all the way to the bottom of the truck. My butt was hanging off the end. He put his mouth to my privates. I pushed him away, but he grabbed my arms and pulled them up above my head and told me it was his turn. He pulled my legs apart and started to push inside of me. It hurt so bad. I started to cry. He said baby don’t cry, I’m just showing you how much I love you. I tried so hard to stop crying, but it hurt and I just couldn’t. He kept pushing it in and out my whole body moved with his from the force. It seemed like it lasted forever.
When he was done, he wiped my face and held me. He told me I was such a good girl and he was so proud of me. I was very confused, but happy I had pleased him. He smiled and smiled. After that, he said we needed to clean up in the lake. The water burned, but Daddy said it was very important so nobody would know our secret. He told me that they wouldn’t understand and I would get in big trouble. We went home, and I didn’t say a word to anyone.
That was just the beginning of my abuse. It went on until I was 17 and left home. I tried telling many times, but nobody would listen. My own mom said I was a liar, and that nothing like it had ever happened. At 18 I got pregnant and came back home. I was raped for the last time when I was 21. I am now 22 years old, and struggling with every day of my life. I’m not sure of where to go or who to turn to.
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