Child Abuse Story From Anonymous45

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

This will be the first time that I have ever disclosed the details of my childhood sexual abuse. It began when I was 2. I have been told the story of when this started by my father, the abuser. I think that subconsciously, he thinks that by telling me everything there was to know about it, and constantly making me uncomfortable by bringing it up, he is somehow freeing himself of the guilt.

He tells me this:

"When you were two, you were running around all giggly and happy and naked having just gotten out of the bathtub. I couldn't help myself, I grabbed you and laid you down on the bed and licked you right there. You didn't seem to mind it. If you had I probably would have never done it again."

Later on in my so called childhood, my father tells me that I used to ask him to play the "Lick Game" while mommy was at work. He said I liked it when he would perform oral sex to me. He would take me in his bedroom and close the door. Sometimes my brother would ask to come inside but my dad would make up an excuse as to why he couldn't come in. To this day I wonder if my brother was ever suspicious or if he was completely clueless.

When I reached the age of five or so, he would always ask me to squeeze my legs together and he would put his penis through them as if he were having sex. Then when he was about to cum he would push his penis right on the entrance of my vagina. He used to tell me how he couldn't wait until I got older, when he could "shoot way up inside me".

Sometimes he would bribe me into giving him oral sex. He would tell me that he would buy me whatever I wanted at the store if I licked syrup off his penis. He always followed through on his bribes too.

If I was ever at home sick from school, he would make sure he was the one to stay home with me, and of course abused me then too.

Late at night if I couldn't sleep or got scared, I would go into his and my mother's room and sleep on his side of the bed. He would always slip his hands into my pants. I always went in to his room by my own will with no initiation by him. I continued to until age twelve when the abuse finally subsided.

He always told me about the guilt that he had for doing the things he did to me, even while he still planned to do them. He would tell me that he felt like he must be "wired up wrong" and wondered what could cause him to "want to have sex with his daughter."

If I was wearing a pair of short shorts or a short skirt he would always tell me how "sexy" I looked and tell me to change.

He used to always tell me if I had any questions about sex to ask him. He would ask me to "french kiss" him but I would refuse.

The catch about my abuse is the fact that he never forced me. He NEVER forced me to do any of the things that I did. He bribed me, and always let me believe it was ok. I don't know if any other person has been through this, but I feel like this is a rare situation.

Yes, it was never excruciatingly painful. Yes, he never forced me. But the problem is he let me think that letting him do those things could positively affect me. He let me believe he loved me more than he loved my mother because I gave him better sex, and because we had a secret that I secretly made him happier. He showed me that good things could come from it like a pack of gum that I wanted or something.

I've started to blame things like the low self esteem I had in 8th grade. I was suicidal in middle school but I couldn't tell anyone. I cut myself in 9th grade until my friend's father found out, and of course told my dad. He was unemployed and when my friend's father called he called our house phone during the day to tell him.

When my father confronted me about it, it took some convincing but he promised he would not tell my mother if I stopped. I did.

He, like my mother, was always afraid to let me be at a friend's house if just the dad or an older brother was there to watch us. They were afraid that I would get molested or raped. Once we were in private I would purposely take personal stabs to him saying things like "I bet you love how mom has no idea how much safer I could probably be at a friend's house." He of course felt guilty and would always tell me how sorry he was.

Once, around age 11 or so, there was something I wanted him to do for me. I don't remember what it was now, but I remember saying "Do it, or I'll tell mom what you've done to me." He freaked out and told me how much it scared him when I said that and to never say that again. He told me that if I did then he would go to jail and I would never see him again.

When he told me that, he crushed my delusion that had been keeping me sane for the past five years. I always told myself that the government, or some authority was testing all children. I was convinced that something good would happen if I never told my mother or anyone until I was an adult. That I would be congratulated with some positive outcome when I grew up.

During my freshman year of high school, a teacher of mine asked the class to write a persuasive paper about our position on the game RapeLay. I became extremely teary eyed and told him I would rather not write about it. Because I left the class crying, two of my best friends followed me into the bathroom. It was the first time I had ever told anyone about my secret.

The last time my father and I talked about it was about a year ago. I always hated how he would bring it up every time we were alone. He told me how he was afraid that I would tell someone like my future husband, and that my husband wouldn't want our children being around him. I told him I was convinced that I was taking it to the grave with me. But now that I am in a serious relationship, I want him to know what I've been through.

My biggest problem is the fact that my father played two roles, my dad and my father. He has taught me about life, let me cry on his shoulder, and taught me about computers and building things, yet as my father he has warped my view of men in general. I never know who to trust when the person who I trust the most has showed me that one of the most dreaded crimes in the world can be committed by he, himself.

This is the first time I have ever thought about the details of my abuse. When I was younger the thought that this has forced me to grow up faster than any child should ever have to would make my hands shake violently and my head spin.

Normally my writing can be very clever and witty. I apologize for being blunt but my story is so long that I had to shorten it down to give the direct facts.

This has barely scratched the surface of beginning to explain my "childhood" but it is what shaped me into the person I am today.

I keep picking up the phone to call the hotline, just because I want counseling. But I am too nervous to call. I don't know what's holding me back, but I'd feel much better to talk to a counselor over the internet. Do you know of any resources like that?

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