Child Abuse Story From Rebecca P Part 2

by Rebecca P.
(Location Undisclosed)

I have been reading some other stories people have written to you and it has helped me, so I thought I would write more about my story (see Child abuse story from Rebbeca P) in the hope it might help someone else.

My earliest memory is not of the actual abuse but of the knowledge of it. I was 3 years old and going to kindergarten. The toilets did not have doors on them and I was too scared to go to the toilet, and would wet myself in preference. I remember knowing that bad things happened when your panties were pulled down and someone saw.

I spent most of my childhood wishing and praying that I would die. There were not many good things I remember from my childhood, all I knew was the abuse and neglect. I think this even though it sounds sad that I never got to have fun and just be a kid like other children was what made me survive. I did not know what I was missing. I thought what was happening to me was what happened to other children and it was only me who did not like it. I was told often enough that the only reason I was born or still alive was to do these things, so I believed it. I now am starting to realise that I was not responsible for what happened, that I did not do bad, that bad was done to me, but I can't often see past the "I deserved it" bit.

But there is hope.

I logically know that I didn't deserve it, but it is the feeling that I have trouble getting rid of. Reading others' stories, there is not one that my heart does not reach out to, that I don't truly believe they were mistreated and did not deserve what happened to them, so all I have to do is believe it for myself.

I was thinking about writing about times things happened and all the things that I endured, but I have changed my mind. I do not wish to upset readers, or worse give ideas to abusers. Instead, I will try to write about the effects and the feelings that occurred because of what I endured.

I was always so so lonely. I often felt like a just wanted a hug. Once, I was even so desperate, I went to my mum and hugged her. She shoved me away, saying something like, "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you a lesbian or something?"

I was always too scared to make friends because I thought I was just rotten and dirty and bad. I never felt like I belonged. I felt that there was something really wrong with me.

During the abuse I got very good and leaving my body and watching from the ceiling. With other people, my father used a name that was not mine so I pretended that name belonged to my imaginary friend and that it was her that these things happened to, not me. I spent a lot of the time in make believe. I would imagine a nice loving life for myself and then pretend the real life was the made up one.

I thank you, Darlene, and anybody who spends the time reading what I write and for allowing me to have a voice.

Note from Darlene: To my visitors, I offer my apologies if there is any confusion regarding the spelling of Rebecca's name. The first part of her story is under spelling of Rebbeca, while this Part 2 is spelled as Rebecca. Both are the same person.

Rebecca, you'll note the first paragraph of your submission is not included here. It has not been deleted; rather, I've taken the liberty of moving it to the comment section of your first story, as I felt it would flow better on that page. Feel free to leave additional comments there, or on the comment section of this page. While I cannot actually reply to all comments (there are thousands on this site), rest assured I read every single one of them.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Rebecca P Part 2" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding.


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