Child Abuse Story From Sara
by Sara
(United Kingdom)
I think I was about 3 years old when my dad started to sexually abuse me. This is as far back as I can definitely remember something happening, but it could have happened before that. He used to look after me when my mum was at work. We used to play games together, and I loved it. We played a game where one of us would pretend to be a doctor and we'd examine each other. This started off normally. I'd take his temperature and look in his mouth and stuff.
One day, he was examining me and he said he needed to check everything was OK 'down below.' I didn't know any different. He started putting his fingers inside me. He'd say I needed medicine, but instead of putting it in my mouth, he'd put it in my vagina and then remove it with his mouth. I remember feeling uncomfortable, but he said it was what all daddies did to show their little girls how much they loved them.
This progressed to other games, in which he would encourage me to see if I could make his 'snake' hard by touching it and watching it grow. I then had to see if I could make it 'spit' by stroking it and licking it. This went on for years, until he said he wanted to know if it would spit inside my 'little holes.' When this started, it happened more and more often, and although it hurt, I was 9 before I realised what he was doing was wrong. But even when I told him to stop, it didn't stop him.
When I was 10, I got home from school to find my dad stood there with about 5 of his friends. This was the first time he was violent with me. He told me they were all going to play our game. I tried to run, but between them they managed to catch me and beat me until I lay on the floor where they tied me down. They then took it in turns to rape me. This happened lots before I ended up pregnant when I was 13. I finally managed to tell a teacher what was happening, and she got me help. I was sent to live in a foster home. I suffered a miscarriage.
I was happy, until my foster mother died and I was moved to another foster home when I was 15. My foster father raped me several times before I ran away and lived on the streets. I prostituted myself for 6 months, until I was 16 and managed, with the help of a friend, to get a job.
I am now much happier. I have a place to live, a job I love, and I am single. I can't trust men. I don't want a boyfriend or to get married or anything. I can't stand the idea of anyone touching me intimately. But I survived, and for that I am glad.
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