Child Abuse Story From Dorothy
by Dorothy
(Location Undisclosed)
A very confusing youth:
I'm still very confused by the experiences of my childhood. I have suffered almost every form of abuse. I have many long, complicated stories (no wonder I couldn't tell them to impatient adults when I was young), so please bear with me.
I was 12 years old and home alone when the neighbor knocked on our door and asked if he could have a cup of coffee. He came around often and volunteered to fix things for free. My parents thought he was wonderful. I made him a cup and sat down at the table with my back to him. Suddenly he was petting me, I thought as if I were a dog, and I heard a zipper. I refused to look. He tried to make me touch him, but I wouldn't. So he rubbed it against my neck. I thought, is this rape? My mother had told me, "If you're ever raped, pretend you're enjoying it, because rape is an act of violence, and if the attacker thinks you're enjoying it - he'll get disappointed and leave." I failed -- I could only sit in terrified silence and recoil in disgust. I didn't know how to explain this to my parents, it was too strange in my young mind for words. I was grateful months later when his own daughter-in-law came forward saying he was exposing himself and groping her. His wife was expressing her disbelief to my mother. At last, I thought, they would have to believe two of us! So much easier this way, than to find the right opportunity and words to explain all this alone.
"I believe her," I said, "because he's doing the same thing to me!"
My mother scowled at me and said firmly, "That is a very serious accusation!" No more was said.
He repeated this abuse many more times as the years went on, sometimes with my parents sitting in the next room! I was conditioned to believe if I screamed I would be dismissed as just a silly little-miss-dramatic trying to get attention. When I was around 17 he let himself into our house one morning when I was home alone and surprised me in the kitchen where he decided to consummate his obsession with me and pinned me against my mother's cabinets. He was unfazed by my protests, telling me not to worry, I wouldn't get pregnant, he'd had a vasectomy.
When I was 21, his wife invited my mother and I for dinner, I wrongly assumed I'd be safe if I stayed in the room with her or my mom, but he managed to touch me several times when they weren't looking. The evening was like a game of chess to position myself within the ladies line of sight. After dinner, when he had finally left the room, his wife was chattering on to my mother about men, "I know he likes to look at the ladies, but my man would NEVER touch." So, I told her about his fondling and exhibitionism from when I was 12 up to that very hour.
"Well, if that were true, why didn't you say something years ago?" She said calmly.
I reminded her that I had...at the same time as her ex-daughter-in-law...at which point she began feverishly to polish everything within reach with her napkin, venomously calling me a liar (among other things), claiming I was jealous of her family and just wanted to destroy it. Now...I genuinely liked this woman, a bit naïve, but truly sweet - I actually felt sorry for her living with this letch, and I felt she had a right to know the truth about him. I could even understand her anger. But I will NEVER understand my mother's. We got into the car and my own mother, who witnessed my testimony and this woman's tirade on me and said nothing, chastised me for upsetting her. "I don't know why you had to bring that up after that lovely meal she made for us!"
She continued to have him as a guest and spoke fondly of him - as he had done so many nice favors for her. When I would remind her again that he'd done to me she would say, "Oh, I forgot!" And then forget again.
My father? When I told him he said, chuckling, "Oh, that
man's name, he's a rascal!"
"No dad, he's a child molester!" Response -- silence.
I didn't tell them that he had actually raped me until I was in my 40s; I couldn't bear their denial of something so intrusive and frightening. I was surprised, my mother finally showed emotional support on my behalf. My father stared at his feet and said if he'd known back then maybe he could have done something. MAYBE? COULD? Even in retrospect he was non-committal, spineless and unemotional. Oh, rage he could do. My father punched me...and my mother and siblings (never another grown man). But, that's another long, complicated story.
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