Child Abuse Story From Sean

by Sean
(Hastings, UK)

Messed: 
I decided to write all this down because I have been told by my doctor he feels I need to talk about things, and I personally can't do it face to face, so here goes.

I am now a 23-year-old male. I have 4 half brothers and 2 half sisters. I was conceived due to rape. My mom was raped, and for whatever reasons, she kept me. The old man, my mom's partner, did not like this decision. He decided to make my life pure hell.

I remember so much pain and anger. He kept his promise that I would never forget. He made sure every time I step out of the shower that I would remember him. My body is covered in the scars from the nightmare he put me through. It was not just physical abuse I suffered, I also was sexually abused, using his terms, "You came into this world from rape, you'll leave this world being raped." Probably not exact words he used, but something along those lines.

I was put in his garage for days on end. The only time I saw light was when he would come in to abuse me and mess with my head. My mother was never no help. She was being beaten too. I could hear her cries. When I was not in the garage, I had to sleep on the floor in a small box room.

My old man one night came home with two of his mates. They were pissed up from the pub. I was about 13 at the time. They all came into my room. After they beat me, they took it in turns to rape me. My old man sat holding a gun to me. When they finished, he pulled the trigger and laughed. It wasn't even loaded. That's how he got his kicks. I don't think I really stopped crying that night, I was so scared.

He would put out his ciggies on my arms and body and laugh. Even one time, he tipped petrol on me and toyed with lighting his ciggy. And you know what, I honestly think he saw I just did not really care anymore what happened. There's only so much you can take before you stop crying. Anyway, long story short, I ended up running away and living on the streets. But at 23, I still can never get the stuff out of my head, and don't think I ever will, not with all the scars in full view whenever I take my clothes off.

He's old now. I heard he has heart problems. I hope he's suffering like he made me suffer. My so-called Bro/sis, well, now all sudden they care and have been in touch. To be honest, I hate the lot of them so much.

Sorry, just needed get few things out. Take care.

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