The Past

When I was a young girl, my parents were divorced and I lived with my mother. I thought that’s how families were suppose to be though. You have two separated parents and just visit the one occasionally. Then one day my mom started seeing this guy. I had an idea of what was going on because my dad was also seeing another woman. But the strange thing to me was when my mom and this guy who was actually a complete stranger to me got engaged and he moved in. It was weird at first but I liked the idea of having two “parents” together. That’s when the horror began thiugh.

Thinking back to to when I first remember him is when I was home sick from school. My mom was out doing yard work and it was just me and him in the house. He did the polite thing and asked if I needed anything. I said no and wanted to keep watching tv. He sat down next to me and told me to yell if I needed anything. But that’s when I felt the hand on my inner thigh. He moved it up and down slowly. I asked him to stop and he said this is how things are going to be. Then I asked him again to let go and he grabbed my thigh. His strength was incredible, the pain was almost unbearable. It’s almost as if I can still feel it.

If you knew me personally, you’d notice that I’m not much of a “girly girl”. What everyone doesn’t understand is the reason why (mainly because I refuse to talk about it). Anyways, when you’re little, all you want to do is play dress-up. That was honestly one of my favorite things to do until it got out of hand. My new step father brought up the idea to do it for him and he’ll tell me his favorite outfits. The only catch was that he was gonna help me change. Strange, right? and he did just what he said. He helped me change and he also gave me compliments I’d never heard before. He touched me with the gentlest touch. I can still feel it. The way he ran his hands down my sides and up my thighs. The way he’d move my hair and kiss my neck. Now when someone does this to me, my reflex is to get away. Why would a grown man want to touch a young girl like he would to his wife? It just wasn’t right.

When I finally got the courage to quit dressing up,  that’s when the sexual abuse became physical. When I said no, he made me say yes. I had marks on my body that I couldn’t explain because he told me it’d hurt worse if I told anyone. This is the first time I’ve even brought it up.

How do you get through the bad memories like these? How can you make them stop replaying in your head? How can you not let this be a reason to end your life?