My story starts when I was around 3, the first day I had met the man that would change my life. We met him at a restaurant, something silly cheap but nice. Me and my brother meeting him, mom's new boyfriend for the fist time. I think about it now and realize how strange it is that I can remember this day so vividly. I can remember exactly what I was wearing and where each person was sitting at the table. But I'll skip the details that mean nothing, in an attempt to keep this as short as possible.
He wasted no time, that first day the day I met him he took me to the restroom, I was learning the whole toilet thing. He watched and made comments about how beautiful I was. It wasn't terrible then. It was normal I suppose. Well mom was in a tight spot so we moved in with him just 2 months after we met him. Things were nice because we were allowed to live with mom again, but that meant living with him.
Things were what you would expect for a while, he worked full time. I was home with mom. Things were okay. Only occasionally would he get back to his bad habits, nothing too terrible, just watching and comments and the showing every now and then.
My baby sister was born when I was 5, amazing and brilliant in every way. Her being born mixed with him losing his job and mom getting one seemed to spark something in him. He started yelling a lot, mostly at my brother. He was 7, and everything he did was wrong. Mom and I got our fair share of yelling too, and we weren't left out when the yelling turned to hitting, 2 years, a couple of broken bones and too many bruises to count.
On December 1st, I got home from school and my life was changed. My brother was staying at a friend's house and my 2-year-old baby sister was sleeping. That was the day he took my innocence. Typing it out, I can hardly see what I'm writing with the tears flowing down my face, but honestly that day was one that I would wish to go back to almost every day after. He was nice, almost sweet about it. It took him weeks to look at me again, I remember wondering what I had done wrong.
About a month and a half later it happened again. This time different, he had been fighting with Mom. He was angry, he yelled and hit me. I wasn't allowed to cry. I wasn't aloud to squirm. I had to look at him. I had to smile. This angry encounter continued for years.
Just like everything else in life, when you get used to something you let your guard down and things change. I was 11 and my brother who was 13 started to cut. Teachers had noticed his bruises and started asking questions and a formal investigation was launched. Maybe it's just because back then things were different or maybe it's because Mom's now husband was my best friend, I did everything with him and tried to make him happy so maybe he wouldn't be so mean. But either way, the teachers didn't ask me or even look for bruises on me, and he lied, and my brother lied, and my mom lied, and it went away.
After the investigation he was nice for a bit, but our weekly sessions took a turn for the worst. He had it down to a science by this time. Mom was at work and my brother had band practice and sister at friends. It was always us alone, once, sometimes twice a week. Then one day it wasn't us alone, it was us and one of his friends and one turned to a couple and then I wasn't his, I was anyone's.
His friends would pay him for time with me. He stopped our alone time and other people could buy it. He told me that I wasn't good enough for him. I had to show him I loved him by doing what the other men said. Some guys wanted to touch me, some wanted me to touch them, some wanted to cuddle me, and some wanted to hurt me. I did what I was told, but still he stopped looking at me the way he used to.
Life went on. I turned 13. Mom finally got the guts to leave him. She always said he was a good guy but they just weren't good together, so we moved, me, my brother, sister and mom. We moved far, but mom didn't want us switching schools so we would walk to his house after school and wait until she got off of work and then she would take us home. It was wonderful, I could sleep without wondering if he would wake me up because he was lonely or mad. I could finally be me without him. Except it was too good to be true, 3-4 hours after school at his house. And to top it off he was pissed because I started my period and that lost him some business and he was worried about pregnancy.
I started getting high all the time, and by the time I was 17, I had 3 forced abortions. I left when I was 19, moved out of state and never looked back. I still wonder sometimes if he thinks about me. I know it was all a trick. I know he was "grooming" me, but I still wonder, hope that he thinks of me. He made me the me I am today, I hate him, I love him. I am getting help.
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