Child Abuse Story From Missy

by Missy
(Cornwall, United Kingdom)

I'm 19 years old. I ask myself the same question every day, what did I do? but I never find an answer. I don't remember ever knowing what it feels to be safe.

It all started off as little things when I was small (4/5). If I didn't eat my food in 20 minutes, or if I didn't like something that my dad cooked, he would force me to eat it. He would cram his fingers in my mouth until I swallowed. This happened most nights as he would always cook things that I didn't like to eat. I've always hated eating meat, I don't know why, but it makes me feel so sick, and peppers or peas or beans, but almost every night there would be something there that I didn't like to eat.

Things got worse when my school phoned home to say that they were worried because I wouldn't eat anything during the lunch period. This was my 6th birthday. I remember because I remember coming home from school and wishing that I had never been born. My mum wasn't there, but my dad was and he had his belt sitting on the ironing board. That night my mum left home.

My dad started to hit me regularly for every small thing, if I didn't understand something, or if I got my spellings wrong, or if I fell over, I would be hit.

On my 8th birthday my dad said that I was a special girl and that I needed to realise it. He told me he loved me and made me go and sleep in his bed. When I asked why, he said he wanted to do something with me for being so grown up. That's when he made me wear a blindfold and told me to relax. Although I didn't like him feeling me inside and out, I thought that it was normal, and I did for a long time after. He never told me that it had to be kept a secret, but he always got me little presents, and he told me that all daddies do this to their daughters when they get big enough. I believed him. Then after a while he started to ask me to start things, like a game. I remember asking him if we could stop it, and he laid into me and then tied my arms to a corner of his bed and raped me. I don't remember how long it took, but I remember that it felt like hours of pain and crying and wishing I was dead had gone passed before he pulled himself out and then made me lick him, he told me it was milk and that I would like it. I hated it and puked all over him, and for that he made me go through it again.

Just before I turned 9, he brought over some friends of his every Thursday night. He would leave me alone with one of them; he only made me lie there and let him feel for a long time. It all carried on like this until I got into year 7.

I really like my school and I made friends and I worked really hard. I always got really good grades on every subject, accept math. For this I got punished and again I was hit whenever I asked for help on this subject. I don't know why I kept asking. Maybe I thought one day he would change, but he didn't.

One day after school I got home and found that he had put all of my things in boxes and left a few clothes out in his room. He said that I was old enough to sleep like a grown up now, so every night for the next 3 years he made me have sex with him. I would receive a beating if I wasn't 'good' enough for him. I thought a lot on how I could make him hate me, and try and make him stop without telling, so I started to keep broken dishes and cut at myself, my legs, my hip, my arms and my neck. I even tried to cut my breasts to stop them growing. I was the biggest in my class and I hated it. All this did was make him more evil and sadistic, but I still carried on cutting. I found that even though it made things worse at home, it made things more bearable to deal with.

I also made myself sick after every meal, so that I wouldn't have to gain weight, and I was hoping that I could loose the weight so that I would be more disgusting. That didn't work either. I then had three problems that had gotten out of control.

When I was 15 I started going to my nan's house at the weekends, and she was lovely. She offered to help me with any homework that I had to do for the week ahead. This confused me so much. My grandad was also amazing. I never told either of them. I've never told anybody, even when my nan and grandad found my mum, who I now live with.

I'm studying performing arts at college. I hate myself so much. Every morning I wake up and wish that I could die. I still cut at myself and I still make myself sick after every meal but I never cry, I can't cry!! Studying performing arts is a great help. It makes each day easier to pretend and cover myself in masks.

I feel so angry, at my mum because she left, at my nan and grandad because I didn't think that they were there before, at myself because I'm not a good enough daughter. I'm a disappointment to anyone who sees any of my scars. I'm a disappointment to my dad. My friends at college are good, but I have also started going to a church, and the people there are amazing, even though I hate it when they tell me how much god loves me, and how much they like having me go to their church. The only love I have ever known is pure hate. I don't let people close. If I feel like someone is getting close I push them away. If I feel scared of something I run away from it. Everyday I look at myself in the mirror, and can feel myself going numb, and that's the best feeling, but it's also the worst. I'm so tired of fighting with my feelings. I'm tired of remembering and having nightmares. I'm tired full stop. I wish I could just go to sleep...and not wake up!

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