Child Abuse Story From
Kelsea

This child abuse story from Kelsea page was created March 8, 2007 and was originally posted on February 26, 2007 as story #86.

Kelsea is from Perth, Australia

The following child abuse story from Kelsea depicts sexual abuse.

WARNING: This story contains explicit content. I edited out the more graphic details of Kelsea's story. My decision is not intended to invalidate, diminish or in any way disrespect Kelsea, or her right to tell others what she lived through.

The child abuse effects on Kelsea: night terrors, flashbacks, Kelsea sees a counselor three times a week

Child Abuse Story From Kelsea:

As of the time I wrote this, I am 18 years old and my abuse only ended 2 years ago when I was 16. I am from a family with 7 older siblings.

My first memory of it happening was when I was 2 years old. My big sister was giving me a bath and my oldest brother (15 at the time) came in and said he would finish. My sister left, and he sat next to the bath and played with me for awhile. He then tickled me under the arm. I laughed and he asked me why I liked being tickled, to which I replied, "It feels good." He asked if I wanted to see where it felt best to be tickled and, being 2, I said yes. He pulled his pants down and pointed to his penis. He told me to tickle him there, and I hesitated. He pulled my hand and put it on his penis and said to tickle, so I did. He told me what a good girl I was and said it was his turn to tickle me. Trusting my brother and not knowing it was wrong, I did so. After a little while he began to masturbate himself while still touching me. After he climaxed he said that we had played a very special game which I couldn’t tell anyone about because I would get in trouble. I didn’t think much of what happened because I didn’t know any better. He did the same thing about once a month for the next 2 years.

When I was 4, he got a bit aggressive with me. He would make me masturbate him and hold my arms down when he was touching me. This was when I started not to like it.

When I was 7, he would sneak into my room at night and lay next to me and stick his hands down my pants while I was asleep. One night he came in, woke me up and told me to masturbate him. I said I didn’t want to play that game. He pushed me to the floor and said if I didn’t he would hit me, so I gave in and started. He climaxed. I gagged on it and went to spit it out. He grabbed my throat and told me to swallow it. I did. He went back to his room and left me lying on the floor, crying silently.

When I was nearly 9, my brother started to actually insert his fingers and other objects into my vagina. This hurt me, so I tried to fight him off, but I was too small and he was too strong. He would get mad, hold me down and if I still struggled he would insert something bigger into me and be so rough that it would cause me to bleed.

Amazingly, after all those years, it just never occurred to me that I could tell anyone. I thought it was something I would get in trouble for, so I kept my mouth shut. This went on until I was 10, which is when the worst moment of my life happened.

I was in my bed, awake, as I was too scared of what might happen if I went to sleep. I heard the familiar footsteps coming to my door. I pretended I was asleep. My brother came into my room, lay down next to me and slowly crept his hands under the covers, over my stomach, chest and bottom. I started to tremble with fear, which told him I was awake. He pulled me onto my back to face him as he straddled me. For the first time, I saw a look in his eyes that will haunt me forever. It was like there was no soul, just emptiness. It was then that he ripped my shorts off and as I started to struggle, he pulled a small pocket-knife from his pants, held it to my throat and said that if I made a sound or moved a muscle he would slit my throat. I was too scared to move. I just lay there, crying silently, wishing god would save me. I cried out in pain when he penetrated me. He took the knife, made a small cut on my chest and told me to shut the eff up. I cried and closed my eyes. It was the worst pain of my life. He raped me 3 times, once making me bend over so he could do it from behind. Then kissed me and left. This happened most nights for the next 4 years.

Then I ran away to my oldest sister and her husband’s house, not far away. I finally felt safe. Until my brother-in-law’s son from another marriage came to live with us. He was 17 and he started to abuse me. He would come into the bathroom while I was showering and touch me and take pictures of me.

When I was 16 and my sister said she and her husband were going out of town for the weekend, I was terrified. Her husband’s son (19) decided to throw a party. He and his friends drank and partied while I stayed in my room. Later he came into my room with 3 of his friends, tied me to the bed while I slept, took off my clothes and took turns viciously raping me, sometimes 2 at once and in my bottom. I screamed for help, but no one heard me over the music.

That was the last straw. I finally told my sister what they did. She and her husband called the police. They all went to court, but only my brother-in-law’s son was found guilty, as they had the pictures he took and no evidence on the other 3. He got 2 years in jail. 2 YEARS!

I never told my family about my brother, but even though I have no contact with him, I suffer from night terrors and flashbacks. I see a counsellor 3 days a week and am still trying to heal myself from the past. The past was bleak, but I know my future is bright.

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References

NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.

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Child abuse story from Kelsea was re-formatted June 3, 2015