Child Abuse Story From Spades
by Spades
(Prescott, Arizona, USA)
The Story of my Life:
I know what it feels like to be put down, yelled at, called names, raped, scared, and humiliated. I'm sixteen, and a boy. I can't stand being called my by real name, because my parents used to call it as they came. I was sexually, physically, and emotionally abused from the time I was 6 to when I finally got out of it at the age of 14. My entire childhood was taken from me.
It didn't start out with rape. My sixth birthday, my parents took me into my room and touched me. They said it happened to everyone, and that I would like it. I told my dad I didn't like, and he just laughed at me, saying I would like it later on.
Within a few weeks of that my parents made me start touching them. I would do it, because I was a little kid, and didn't know what else I was supposed to do. After that, they forced to have sex with them.
The first time my dad raped me I was six. I screamed as loud as I could for him to stop. He laughed at me. Then him and my mom kissed over me, saying that I looked sexy screaming how I was. Dad climaxed, and then he and my mother had sex. They left me there, curled up in a ball, bleeding, praying to god that it never happened again. I hated how much it hurt, and hated how I couldn't stop him from doing it. I didn't even know it was something you weren't supposed to do. All that I know is that I was scared, and it hurt, and I never ever wanted it to happen again.
My parents continued to rape me, yelling at how I "wanted it", and hurting me. My mom used to take a razor blade to the back of my neck if I didn't look like I was enjoying myself. I got into a habit of biting my arm to keep from screaming. To this day, I have a scar the size of my jaw on my arm.
By the time I was about seven and a half, they made me have sex with anybody who paid my parents. My parents would watch, sometimes participate. I got called a slut, and a whore. I cried every night when they left.
My parents home-schooled me. Mom was an assistant principal, my dad a lawyer. I'm dyslexic, and found that out when I was fifteen. I couldn't learn what my mom was teaching me. Things would come out wrong, and I would get beat. Once, my father stabbed a pen into my thigh for not being able to add right. I learned basic reading and writing before my mom gave up, and wouldn't teach me anything anymore.
I continued to get beat and raped without saying anything until I was 9. I looked outside my window, and saw three boys skateboarding. I was never allowed outside my room, for anything. I saw them, and realized that what was happening to me wasn't right. I asked Dad if everybody did what I did. He said no. That I was a whore, and I would never be anything better, because I was a retard and all I could do was screw people.
That night I tried to run away. I broke my window, jumped out, and started running. Dad heard me break the glass, and was waiting for me when I got around the house. I got my arm broken, my shoulder sprained, and raped by a clothes hanger. Dad boarded up my window, and put bars over it, so I wouldn't be able to get out again.
Things went worse from there. My parents decided they found it attractive for me to smoke, and made me do so. I tried to kill myself by breaking a bowl and cutting my throat with it. I remember crying, as I looked in the mirror with blood running down my neck, thinking that anything had to be better than my life.
I was fourteen years old when my parents brought in a man. My parents stood at the other end of the room. He started to kiss my neck. I had learned by that time that if I hid the pain, held in the tears and the cries, then it would end eventually, and they would leave me alone again. The man leaned over me, and whispered into my ear, "I'm a police officer."
I replied with, "Why the f**k are you telling me? Just f**k me and get it over with. Please."
Not even a minute after that, police officers rushed in, took my parents away in cuffs, and put me in the hospital.
I now live in a foster home, with three other boys who were physically abused, and who have become my best friends. I hate bothering them with my nightmares, because I hear theirs, and they always seem to keep it from coming out. I can't sleep without pills, can't touch people without having flashbacks. I smoke and I have terrible flashbacks. I skateboard. Just like I always told myself I would.
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