Child Abuse Story From...Me

by Anonymous
(USA)

I was abused by my step-brother from the time I was 6 or so until I was 10, and then again around my freshmen year of high school.

What happened was that, at age 6, my mother left my dad for my stepfather. We (me, my mom, sister) moved in with him and his son, call him "Joe" I guess. I don't really know how it started. Joe says I started it, but I call BS on that. Either way, my guess is that he was upset that me and my family just moved in and cut into his life as an only child with his dad.

It just started with touches...I think so anyway. At first, I don't think I did much to stop it. I really didn't know it was wrong. Again, my memory back 14 years is slightly foggy. What I do remember is that I did eventually realize that what was going on was wrong, so I started to say no. Apparently, no translates to, "Please, more!" because the touching progressed to more and more. It wasn't long until I was unsuccessfully saying "no" to sex.

I started to get really scared. I didn't know what to do. I knew all the self-defense techniques they taught in school, but they were always talking about strangers or distant relatives. This was my brother (step or no) and I was deathly afraid of my family finding out about what was going on. It was this fear that kept me submissive, not Joe's threats of "coming to get me." Joe said frog and I hopped. I still remember the shame of the things I did.

Anyway, I decided to write about it in a notebook as an outlet, but my mother saw the notebook and read it. I got off the bus one day and Mom picked me up and drove me to a friend's house to present me with the notebook. She asked me if it was all true or if I was just exaggerating, all the while sobbing. It was then she unintentionally gave me an out. In my shame of being discovered I jumped on the chance at making it less than it was. So I told her Joe only touched me a couple of times (a significant lie).

Then came the counselor and some lady asking me to point at bear parts. It was lame. They were all impressed with my calmness and reasonability. To make a stupid, long story slightly less longer, Joe passed a lie detector test, the counselor said my dad suggested I was making things up, and I had to go to the same school Joe was still attending. So I let it go. I never once told them I lied about the whole thing (because I didn't), but I just stopped trying. Everyone else wanted to forget: my mom, my dad, my family, and especially Joe. I just had to avoid Joe at school...easy!

A year later, my mother got back with my step-dad (who I had no beef with). Then his dad (my step-grandpa died) and I went to the funeral where Joe still was. Not long after, Joe would come to visit his dad and then moved back in with us my freshman year. By this time, I was starting to wonder if anything had ever happened (we were all too good actors).

Luckily, or unluckily, Joe helped restore my sanity by sneaking up on me one morning to wake me up. He held me down, undressed me, and...well, you know the rest. It was a bit more painful than I had remembered, and I struggled more than I ever had, but I couldn't bring myself to do much more. I dealt with his attentions for a semester and then he went to military school.

Nothing more has physically happened since, but I am still dealing with issues. On the outside, I'm a well-rounded young lady: happy, energetic, and outspoken. I got straight A's in high school, started college, joined in clubs, took up snowboarding, made some really great friends, and, at the age of 20, have never smoked, drank, done drugs or broke the law (except for minor speeding and going out after curfew to play tag in the park with friends).

Inside, I am one screwed up kid. First, I have a problem with prominent sex abuse fantasies (I'm always the victim). I'm supposed to be so "good," but these are ridiculous and shaming, but I can't stop. Second, I don't understand my family's response. My mother has made jokes before that sound too much like bad references. My dad didn't want to believe me, and they allowed Joe to come LIVE with us. I'm the one who was abused, but discovery led to nothing but a worse life until I let it drop. For years, I've been dealing with fears of touching and randomly waking up terrified in the middle of the night.

Every time Joe is over to visit the family, I deal with conflicting feelings: fondness for a brother (why?! Like I know!), fear of an attacker, confusion (caused mostly by a sickening desire for him), revulsion, and sadness.

I want to hear that he is sorry, but he isn't. I don't want to feel like I want him. It's sick. I don't want to have such vile thoughts, but I do. I want my family to know what their doubt has caused, but they won't. I really want to yell at him, but I can't. I want to feel normal, but I don't.

I've written a novel here, but haven't said a thing. There's so much not here...but how can you condense a lifetime of abuse and insecurities in one message?

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From...Me" 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.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.