Childhood with Side Effects

by Robert J Wray
(London, Ontario, Canada)

The real sad thing about the abuse comes many different side effects and they are all devastating to children while growing up and will take this through there teen life and into adult life if they never receive support for there abuse.

For my self I do not take baths any more and if I do there is to many things I remember with my brother, I cant sit at super tables with any one because the way Father had treated me with such Hard back hands,and landing on the floor.

I can not hold a job while growing up cause I thought every one new what I was doing with all my sexual acts with the men ive been with as a child, cause I thought every one was like this.

I could not communicate with any other children because I was afraid of every one the fear of men would never leave my mind.

My father had beat fear into me so I would never speak of the truth how he took me out with him and B-- into homes in the dark in the nite while mother was past out.

The night mares every night was unreal dreams of Grizzlybears hunting me down ,Tornato that just rip me apart ,and I was just a child but still have them as an adult, and now my dreams are full uf filthe and death blood like they are so real its hard to deal with at times. but their jus dreams. I could never get a great job cause of my criminal record so ive been limited to garbage jobs and hard labour with no future ,that's just a small part.

You know with help of all my doctors today I would not be here to tell my story, this is just the end of the beginning , finding out who I realy am and the man I am with out the drugs and the boose to hide my fears, when my book is finished I will dedicate it to the children of the world that has and will be hurt by the hands of Monsters.

God bless our tiny hearts of this great land of ours.

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Brother is a Monster

by Anonymous
(Location Undisclosed)

It started when I was 6. I think. The memories are all a little foggy, but I know it ended when I was about 11. I was sexually abused by my older brother. He's about 8 years older than I. The only people that know are my best friend and my cousin. My brother is still in my life and I cannot bear to see the man who stole my childhood. I know, sooner or later, I need to tell him to leave. To just go somewhere else and not come around the family anymore. I also know it will be the hardest think Ive ever had to do. I hate him with every ounce of being in me and hes destroyed me. I'll never get to know who I could have been and that kills me. He has tried blaming me for what happened by saying "you were always asking me about sex." Even if this were true, there is absolutely no excuse for what he did. He was hidden from my family by my dad until he was 7 so I think he abused me to get back at my dad somehow. Anyways. I just needed to tell somebody because the secrets are what really haunt me. I feel so isolated from everyone because no one really knows. I hate when people praise him because I know how much of a monster he truly is, yet I can never bring myself to tell them. For years I felt so dissociated from my childhood, but the memories have been flooding back to me. I'll never understand how somebody could hurt an innocent little kid. I'd really appreciate any type of response. I need to know someone out there understands and knows what I'm going through. I wish I didn't have to hide behind the Internet, but this shall do until I build the courage to tell my story to my family.

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Tsunami Nights

by MJ
(Location Undisclosed)

My second eldest brother and I are middle children. We were singled out. My mother abused me and our stepfather abused him, he was so smart strong and funny. I think my stepdad envied him, my mother openly disliked me because I looked like my father. She verbally and physically emotionally abused me and stepdad tortured my brother. Stepdad is dead now my brother is manic depressive on meds. I weep alone when my kids go to school or sleep. No one seems to bothered but my memories come crashing in like a Tsunami. He would scream from the basement my mother did nothing but when i would cry and scream in my pillow she would threaten me. Sick on top of scared and confused my stepdad tried to justify himself and discipline to me? Forgive him....God help me. I'm 43 and this doesn't go away. My oldest and youngest brother are removed I want to be closer. I work with kids and law enforcement to lift self esteem and empower themselves. If not for my faith and and the love from my daughters i don't know what i would do
Thank you for your forum this was one of those tsunami nights thats how I found you.

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Darkness to Light

by Carly
(Mississippi, USA)

The earliest memory I have of my parents fighting is when I was only 6. They were yelling and my dad pushed my mom, with me standing behind my mom, I hit my head very hard on my parent’s dresser. My mom and dad fighting was normal to me. I did not no any better. My dad left my mom when I was about 7 or 8. He looked at me, my little sister and my mom and told us he did not love us. He walked out the door. My parents never got back together after that. My uncle came to live with us about a year later. My mom and uncle spent a lot of time in my moms bedroom with the door closed at the time I did not know what they were doing. Me and my little sister made stuff up of what to do. My little sister is three years younger than me. My mom started leaving for weeks on end and coming home for a few weeks. This went on for awhile. Then she stopped coming home all together. My uncle stayed in bed. Little by little stuff started to get shut off and then we were served an eviction notice. One day a social worker came and took us. We were placed with my dad. Nobody told us what was going on or where my mom was. I was so confused as a child. I did not know what to do. I did what any big sister would do. I took care of my little sister. My dad physically and emotionally abused me and my little sister as well as neglected us. My dad left us home alone for days. When he was home he was angry. He never took care of us the whole time we lived with him. I was in charge of making sure me and my sister were fed and had clean clothes. I was only 9 years old. I thought our life was normal at the time because it was all I knew. The last time I saw my dad he packed up all his stuff and left me and my sister in the apartment. The social worker came to the apartment after three days and asked where my dad was. I told her I don’t know. At this time my mom was clean for 10 months. She asked us where we wanted to go. Me and my little sister both said mom at the same time. We moved back in with my mom that day. She had a boyfriend now. He seemed really nice and he seemed like he really cared about us. One day my mom and my sister went to the NA meeting my mom had to go to. I did not want to go so I stayed home. My mom’s boyfriend stayed home as well. I wanted to watch tv with him in my mom and his room so I crawled in the bed with him. He sexually abused me. I did not know what to do. I did not know what he was doing but it felt completely wrong and I just wanted to die. I finally got the courage to get out of the bed. I grabbed my shoes and ran out of the apartment. I went to the apartment building across the street. I went to the top of the apartment building and wanted to jump off and end my life. I felt so dirty and so ashamed. I called my mom and told her what happened. She went with me and my little sister back to the apartment and talked to him. She said I was lying. She yelled at me. He left and moved out of state. 6 months later she told me he found work and we were moving where he was to be with him. It was a fresh start. I remember thinking to myself "yeah right." By this time I had already started cutting myself and suffering from depression. From that age until the age of 18 I battled with depression and cutting, and would sometimes stop but always kept cutting. When I was 18 I moved in with my boyfriend. I took Trazidone to sleep. One night he thought I took it but I didn’t he raped me while I was asleep. I left his house at 2am. About a year later I was smoking Spice with what I thought was a good friend of mine. I had a bad reaction to it and passed out. When I woke up he was raping me. I felt like I couldn’t move. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. When I finally felt like I could move I tried to push him off of me but he just grabbed a hold of my wrists and finished. When he was done he let go of me. I called a good friend of mine and went straight to the police department. The cop was a complete joke. He told me if I had not smoked spice he could have took my case to court. Despite what he police officer said, I went to the hospital and had a rape kit done. That was the hardest part. I felt so raw and so embarrassed. I felt like it was my fault like I should have known better. I lost a lot of friends after that. I wouldn’t call them friends. Because real friends believe you. Now I am almost 21 years old. I am a full time student in college majoring in Elementary Education. I see a doctor. I was diagnosed with PTSD, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Depression. Life can be a real struggle at times but I know every day that I live my life for me and live my life grateful that I am a survivor I am not letting my attackers win. I am winning. I still have flashbacks but I deal with them and I keep moving forward. I’m not going to let a storm rain on me forever.

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Looking to Heal

by Sam
(Location Undisclosed)

I'm sharing this because I am looking for a way to heal. I shared my story with friends many years ago, but they are the same age as me, and at 18 years old, they didn't really seem to get it. I don't think I did either. But this summer I found myself in a place with extraordinary people who have been helping me a lot, and after sharing my life story with them, I now realise how much I am in need of healing the past.

When I was 9, my gran's neighbour began to abuse me. My parents divorced around that time, and my granddad also died. My gran then remarried the neighbour, so I spent a lot of time around him. Because of my father's lack of involvement in my life growing up (he rarely spent any time with me, just wasn't interested) and my mother's unpredictability (she could be loving one minute and cold, unfeeling the next), I needed affection. What the neighbour did to me was wrong, but I didn't know what to do about it, so I did nothing. It stopped when my gran finally threw him out of the house when I was 12 because his drinking became too much of a problem. And until this summer, I never realised how much it had shaped my life. When I read about the issues that other people have, I realise that's me - I'm angry at myself and my parents for not protecting me better, I'm ashamed, it has made it difficult for me to trust anyone, especially men, I don't sleep very well because of it, and I realised recently that I have a mild form of startle syndrome, I just never knew there was a name for it! A good example is over the summer, I was napping on the sofa, and a guy here (who I have told my story too and who has been very supportive) threw a blanket over me to keep warm. I jumped straight off the sofa, awake in an instant. And though he understand, he was a little upset, only because he knew I was in pain and he can't help.

The other thing that makes it more difficult for me is the fact that my other grandfather was starting to touch me inappropriate when I was 12, but then he died....

I sought professional help when I was at university as the lecturers there finally noticed something was seriously wrong with me (depression, suicidal behaviour, self harming) and so I had to see a doctor and a counsellor. The doctor just put me on medication, which didn't help, and that was the end of it. The counsellor told me my abuse was the reason I was gay, which she thought is what I wanted 'fixing'!! That was the end of that.

Since then, I have spent a lot of time trying to heal myself, to find my own way. I am now 31 and while I am a lot better than I used to be, I know I could still be much better. I need to find out why I can't move on, and then find a way to do just that.

I thank everyone for sharing their stories - I do believe it makes us all stronger knowing we're not alone.

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Freedom

by James and David
(Location Undisclosed)

My name is James, my brother is David. We were abused from our father from the ages of me being 5-8 and David 3-6.

Physical abuse
Mental abuse
Sexual abuse
Diagnosed with Severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

My Mom fought for us time and time again, every 6 months to be exact. Law ethics, are very tricky...You have social workers that don't give a damn about a child, let alone about David and myself.

My brother and I were abused in every fashion that you could think of for 3 years, I have seen people murdered, their brains blown out in the front yard. I have seen my father being threatened with his brains being blown out; then when the Alpha male saw me, he turned around and walked away. My life was spared that day. The outcome though I was beaten physically, because my father was embarrassed of me seeing these turn of events.

My brother and I were told that my Mom was dead, to try and weaken us, we were physically chained to a toilet bowl, we weren't worthy of using the toilet, had to use a pan in the kitchen to go to the bathroom.

There is so much more.

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Dad Didn't Want Me

by Julia
(Texas, USA)

I was abused physically and emotionally, since I was a baby up till I was 13 years old. today I am 18 years old. I have also been sexually abused, and honestly I thought I would never survive,but I did. How? Well for starters, when I was born, I was a mistake, or that's what my dad called me because he wanted a boy, so he left my mom to take care of me and barely visited while he was in another city working in the navy. whenever he did take care of me he would be frustrated and drop me on the floor. when I got older, the abuse became more severe. For example when I was 5, he would help me with homework and instead make it turn out to be "deal with it or ill kill you literally" type of thing. then when I was 7, he clubbed me with a curtain pole which made me temporarily blind. then after two years of going to the doctors office they found a way to bring back my eyesight. my dad fed up and tired to see me hurt temporarily and get back on my feet left in 2010 leaving my mom to take care of me and my 11 year old sister. when I was 13 I had my first boyfriend and he kept constantly cheating on me, but I couldn't seem to let him go. we broke up six times and dated 6 times. after that I had my second boyfriend hoping I wouldn't be a piece of trash to him like my last boyfriend. And I wasn't. in fact he made me feel so special. but then my ex had to come and say sorry to me because he was dating me and another girl at the same time behind my back. my mother gave me permission to be in my room when he came and I called my boyfriend. while I called him I had a note slipped under my door from my ex saying goodbye and he loved me so much. nervous I told my boyfriend and he wanted to come over one week later and my mom said it was alright too, so when he came we talked and had fun and laughed and we fell in love. that's when our troubles came. two weeks after we started dating he was at my house and my ex randomly said to go kill myself and hang myself with a tight knot to break my neck. Then he said if I got back with him he would've been the best boyfriend ever. then he insulted me and my boyfriend to die and go to a torturing place in the afterlife. scared I deleted the messages without telling anyone and got some of my grandmother's pills ready to kill myself. but knowing my boyfriend was coming the next day I changed my mind to tell him first and see what he would say. when I did he begged me not to and said he couldn't live another day without me. so he took the pills and threw them in the river near my home. the text messages came in more often and was starting to be abused by my mother too because of frustration and anger. making so many attempts to run away, I made a perfect escape at 2:45a.m and was discovered missing in the morning at 9:30 a.m. I was caught trying to hitchhike and fake my age and was sent home. when I arrived back at my house I took ill with a mind blowing fever and didn't know whether I would be ok or not. so I had a couple of people to visit and hoping that my boyfriend would come and he didn't so I fell asleep. I was notified immediately the next morning by my mom that he was missing since 12:45 the other night looking for me. shocked, I was to stay in bed until the doorbell rang and answer it assuming it would be him. he was found at 5 and was ok and came to see me saying that he missed me and he was worried about me and by the time I was pale and quite tired he slept right next to the bed. couple days later I regained my strength and was able to see him and then again it happened my ex texted me saying he was worried about me and asked how I was. I called him and told him to stop talking to me and my boyfriend said the same. he never stopped. in fact I was so scared I didn't eat for days and my weight began to drop drastically. after a month of not eating I began the process of getting back my appetite. and later after me and my boyfriend broke up. my ex began to tell two different high schools that I sent him nude pictures, I seduced him and I forced him into having sex with me and we made loud sex noises. he told all my friends too. things weren't so good at home either being hit and all but then my mom said sorry for everything and promised to stop and my mother talked with my ex saying to tell everyone that he lied and that he was sorry. and today my life has been better from ay abuse and I have been more confident in my life.
thank you for taking time to read my story!

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Wanting to Write My Story

by Robert W
(Ontario, Canada)

I have to say that child sexual abuse is far the most indecent thing an Adult can to an a innocent child ,and when this happen to me through out my child hood it became a way of life,and was' ent a thing I could of done ,my Parents being alcholics and my father being so terrible with his children ,the beatings and broken noses I had received many times,my sisters being sexualy molested by father,mother being hit to the floor more ways than one,

the worst thing is my molester,s and abusers got away with every thing they have done ,that's around 18 men ive been with while I was growing up,and includes my brother forcing me for his own satisfactions ,so lets just say every one I knew was at this age of my life they were all the same sex pretiters,being with 18 different men while growing up took a toll on me ,I dident know who I was or what I was .

that's sad for a child to go through and there are many I know people don't realy understand what we all realy go through, my ming was twisted for sex with any one it was unreal that was befor I was even 12 years of age.

I don't know if I was to worried about being molested cause if my dad found out I thought he would beat me for that ,and kill the other s ive been with,,so I just kept it all inside never telling anyone till I was married ,then had two sons and lost them because wife told her mother ,and told her to devorce me cause I will do the same to my sons, and I was only 17 at this time,

But ive been trying to write my storyand the truth and ive been told I can not tell the truth in my book cause its famly, and to this day I am not with any of my family cause they don't want me to write the truth, so I have my manuscript ready to go .and don't know what to do,if I cant tell the truth on paper then I must keep it hidden to pertect the others who are the guity ones.

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Tortured and Abused

by William L
(Manitoba, Canada)

It continues to create difficulties threw my adult life. Everyone seems so willing to push this off as a medical deficiency, only because people just don't want to hear the facts as to what can realy happen to a child when their tortured and abuse throughout their lives. My parents used to beat me with a leather belt making stand with my pants down and whipping my legs until they bled and becom num.Why the back of the legs so it wouldn't prevent me from sitting at school. After they beat me so bad I accidenty pooped while being whipped so they took it to the next level, we would have to go to the washroom before the beating and if it happened you would not only clean it up you would get another one for doing it. One time I was short on my paper route money, my arms were whipped with a leather belt that they used man it is so fresh seeing the degree of those marks from the elbow down only to know it was so common it was put out of mind. Try the kneeling on rice for hrs and for what because you didn't come in the house on time or you missed a spot when you were vacumeing or the dish water wasn't hot enough. This wasn't just isolated this was as soon as you heal in one part you would be nail again you never when it was comeing untile you told to take the trip to the washroom, and for this to have been funny to them, its no wonder we grow up with paranoa and need medications. I mean who knees a child in the head when they get stung by a bee and cries a little. what would cause a man and woman who were adults and very strong feel the need to use a 2 inch leather belt to whip their children. I once had our dog attack my father as he was beating me that man punched that dog down like nothing only to continue whipping me. I had a aunt who had to pull my mother out of a room because she was hitting every part of me with that belt like an out of control animal and for what? because I took a piece of cake out of a freezer. We all wish for a better out come in our lives to try and salvage what we do have but the only thing is it never goes away in your head and although I am an adult suffering now that they can't do it physically they do mentally to make sure I know my place in their lives not an ounce of remorse God help us all.

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The Boy in the Window

by Kurina
(Nevada, USA)

I have a huge problem and nobody seems to care... My sons best friend is being abused at home by his dad's girlfriend. ( his mother has disappeared and he recently just met his real dad and the girlfriend.) Slowly but surly she isolated him, removing him from the karate class him and my son were in, took all of us out of his life ( my sons dad, myself (mom) my sons grandparents and then my son. We have been taking care of him for 4 years, he has a bedroom at my house, clothes that he picked out for the 1st time in his 12 years and a pet snake. Now he has been taken from school, he has told the counselor's what she does. He constantly has bruises as she beats him up, pins him on the floor, throes him on the floor, does not feed him, he is 121/2 and my son is almost 12. My son weighs 108, this other boy, the child in trouble, weighs 80 at best. I have pictures of his bruises, pictures of his journal, he states the stories and they are hard to read. He can not go outside anymore, the neighbors say they see a little boy staring in the window. I have called the police, cps, even hired an attorney! NOBODY DOES A THING!!! The girlfriend states he's a "bad boy" and lies. From teachers to police and cps, they all believe her. I am scared to death that he is in danger. I don't understand why no one will believe this child!

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No One to Tell

by Name Undisclosed
(Ontario, Canada)

The Story I Need Off My Chest: 
I was born in a small country town. I was the youngest of quite a few. My father drank a lot. He ignored me most of the time. The only times he didn't was when he needed a toy to play with. He would molest me in my bedroom at night. I would catch him sometimes on his computer editing photos of us children naked. My mother never believed me when I told her. I later found out that he had hidden cameras in our bedrooms. He would upload them to the internet. I did not know what he was doing was wrong, as I was very young. Especially since my uncle and brother often did the same things.

As I grew older I would have friends sleep over. I remember that when he thought we were asleep my father would come into my room. He did not touch us; just stared at as for an hour or so before leaving. My friends often started pulling away from me.

It was after Sex Education in school that I found out what was really going on. The teacher said to tell an adult in these situations. I told my mother and she just ignored me. I even told a police officer once and I remember him clearly stating "You shouldn't tell lies like that. You're going to get someone in serious trouble one day."

That is when I knew I was different from other people. My life did not matter as much. I was put here as a toy to make others happy. I sank into a deep depression--did not want anybody near me.

When I was 15 I found my first boyfriend. He was a senior, a football player. He really liked me and it was so new to me. Our relationship went well at first. Then he started speaking to me with a viper-like tongue. Eventually it turned violent. He would hit me and I would hit back. We would get into fistfights. These fights would often turn to sex. Often I did not want to, but I just wanted him to stop screaming and hitting. That same year my father was caught with pictures of naked children on his computer. He was arrested.

Instead of child services taking me away like I begged for, I was stuck only with my mother. We moved to the city with barely enough to eat. She was too old to work. She blamed me for my father going away. She still guilts me to this day. It kills me because all I've ever wanted was for her to love me.

Of course, I ended my relationship with my boyfriend. It was a new school. I met another boy. He was so much like me... so heartbroken, and so needing of someone to listen. We became best friends. I fell in love with him fast--the first time I had ever truly loved someone other than my dog. He told me he loved me too, but he had a girlfriend. They would often cheat on each other, but I denied him. He promised he would leave me for her but never did.

One night my mother went on another usual freak out. She threw me out of the house. I broke down. Nobody loved me and my heart shattered because I cared about so many people. Either way, I moved in with my good friend, the boy. I was also very close with his brother so it was okay.

One night my friend's girlfriend finally broke up with him. He cried to me all night. The next night he seemed fine. He told me how he was so in love with me that we needed to be together. I agreed and we slept together.

The next day he avoided me completely until I got a text later that day saying "This isn't really working..."

My heart broke. I had been used again. It was then I found out that he had started dating another girl because "I wasn't long-term material." By the way, he cheated on her after 4 days so... yeah, f*** him. Still, I needed a place to live so I would just hang around his brother.

I would just like to take this time to point out that I had never done drugs, yelled at authority, or even ever been sent to the principal's office. I was a goody-two-shoes. Either way, one night my "best friend", let's just call him Tom, was still dating the girl he was cheating on. I was comforting him because only his happiness mattered, when he shoved me down onto his bed and proceeded to rape me. Right after, he told me to get out of his room. I went to his brother who told me I had to tell their mom. I said I couldn't so he woke her up and told her to take his brother to the hospital because something was very wrong. Tom said he did not want to go, so that was the end of it. He never spoke of it.

I was scared, because I feared being screamed at, but I messaged his girlfriend on Facebook to warn her of his behaviour. She was surprisingly kind and the two broke up the next day.

After getting another girlfriend Tom was sent to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. I mean, I had suicidal thoughts my whole life, but why did that matter? Nor had I ever raped anyone. That was just it... I mattered less than a rapist. He even told me that. He said no one would ever care about me but him and I believed him. I would run messages between him and his girlfriend. I felt like a slave. I was a slave.

Whenever he was single I became his sex slave. He said he had to because if I was in love with him, that was the only way he'd believe me. After all, I remained rent free in his house. This was my life for a year.

Eventually, he became my actual boyfriend. That was the dumbest mistake I had ever made. He would hit me, manipulate me, rape me, and cheat on me with anyone he could. There was nothing I could do because nobody else wanted me alive. I can not even count the amount of times I attempted suicide, but something beyond my control kept preventing it. I still just wish I was gone.

I called my mother and begged her to let me come home, but she said I had ruined her life and that she wanted nothing to do with me. She hung up on me as I cried. I never did anything to her. Today, she still denies saying these things.

I couldn't stand the cheating anymore and I left. It was the middle of winter and I slept in bus stops. I went to school, spent my whole lunches doing homework, left to sit on my own for a while, and then slept again. No one ever harmed me on the streets. Then the school found out. They sent me to a group home where all my stuff was stolen.

Eventually, I got on Ontario Works and rented a urine soaked room from a bipolar lady who would ask my friends if they would pay her for blowjobs. It was hell. But I had to finish high school. I refused to be another statistic.

Teachers taught that kids in my situation always drop out of school. They wind up doing drugs, and have a high risk of teen pregnancy. Due to trauma as a child, it is doubtful I will ever get pregnant. However, I am proud to announce that this girl has never done drugs. She graduated high school with a scholarship ready for her. I move to Toronto in September to start my life over.

I speak to my mother again now. I do not believe she has any love for me, but I hope she does. A big part of me still believes she wants me dead. She does not believe my trauma, but she is at least bringing me some food. Sometimes she will drive me to jobs. To be honest, though, I still have no real motivation to move on. I do not want to be here. There is so much more to my story, but I have already made you read too much. I just want help... but I can not afford it. I can not date. I can barely hold a friend. I am too scared of people. The thought of a man even putting his arm around me makes me shake. I feel so worthless. If you know of any therapists who might be willing to help me out, please let me know.

This is my story. Thank you for reading.

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Me and My Uncle

by Name Undisclosed
(USA)

I been visiting this site for quite a while now trying to build up the courage to post my story but I kept closing the site at the end. My hands shake just as i type. Its not writing it down that scares me or the thought of someone knowing its me but the fact that the World will be able to read it and know exactly what happened to me, however it does make it a better knowing that this site is anonymous. I did find that courage that i needed on this Site from reading someone else's story.

I was molested my entire childhood. Im not exactly sure as to how i should feel about it now even at 25 years old. I remember so much of it like if it happened yesterday. I get confused and have mixed feelings about it, but i do recognize that compared to other people that have been abused i do pretty well in coping with my past despite everything that was done.

My abuse came from my uncle. I had to have been 4-5 years old when it first started because my uncle at that time was 17-18 years old. My mother was a single mom and a workaholic. My dad would come and see me whenever he wanted to but usually never did. My mother and i lived with my grandparents and my uncle. I would only see my mother for like 4-5 hours a day if i got lucky. I would always sleep in with my uncle in his room and almost every time before going to bed, we would play fight. I never really liked sleeping with my grandarents because i always slept in the middle and there bed was uncomfortable to sleep in.

My uncle was my everything growing up and my idol. I looked up to him alot and did everything he told me. As the days went by, when we were getting ready for bed, we wrestled and one time when he was done i kept mocking him and he told me, "If you don't stop I'm going to tickle you hard". Of course just so that we don't go to bed i kept on mocking him and he chased after me laid me on the bed and started tickling me on my private area, then on my sides. I would laugh until my eyes teared and then he'd stop. But i of course kept going just for the sake of playing with him. After awhile it progressed. He would only tickle me down there and in my bottom when i would mock him as we played. One time when he was tickling me in my private area, i got an erection and i was a little embarrassed and my uncle asked me if i can show him. I pulled my shorts down and showed him my erect penis and i remember he said "Thats big for a little guy like you" then he just laughed and continued to play wrestle with me. Since that night he would tickle me in my private area and again I'd get an erection and he would ask me to show him. Sometimes I'd even show him without him asking. At times he would touch it and mess with it then would say "Ok lets go to bed now". I never thought nothing of it nor did i feel bad about him seeing or touching my penis. When we'd sleep, he would right away put his hands down my pj's and start fondling my penis and making it hard. That first time he asked me "can i do something?" I told him yes and as i laid there he would masturbate me. This happened almost every night the same way. At times i feel like all that was on me too. Sometimes when we'd get ready for bed (before we even start wrestling or playing anything) i would flash him with my penis and start it that way. There was even time when i would mock him sexually and we'd go straight to it. This was our game, and this was how we played behind closed doors. At times when we'd go straight to bed I'd even put my hand on his private area over his pants so that we can start to play our "Game".

Eventually our game progressed to oral sex. It didnt happen right away. It never quite went through, at least not until about a week or so after my 6th birthday. My uncle and i were alone at home. I was laying on the couch in the living room playing a gameboy that i had got as a present for my birthday and he was coming inside the house from the backyard. He sat on the other couch across from me and told me "Lets do things". That was his Code way of telling me that he wanted to play our "Game". He told me to just lay there and keep playing my game so i did. I wasn't afraid or anything because i technically knew what he was going to do and knew he wasn't gonna hurt me. He then pulled down my pants and started sucking on me. It did surprise me that he did that because he never gave me a hint that he was gonna do it. He told me not to worry and to keep playing my game. Eventuaaly stopped then told me "Now can you do it to me?" I didnt want to disappoint him so i told him yes. He told me to do it the same way he did it to me. Before i knew he was in my mouth and it took me a bit to get use to that part of the "Game". Oral sex became the main part of our "Game". At night when we got to bed same thing would happen except he'd take it up a notch. After awhile i started liking him giving me oral more and more. I now understand why i wanted so much attention from him, he was the only one that gave me that much attention as a child.

As months went by our "Game" ways continued. However one night before going to bed my mom called the house from work just to see how we were and he told my uncle to bathe me before going to bed. In my head i knew what we were gonna do, but at the same time i was kind of excited that we were gonna shower together because i remember that i've always wanted my uncle to play with my toys with me in the shower. Our "Game" progressed again. He used his finger on me and it hurt like crap. He went slower after that but fingering continued as part of the "Game". As days went by everything continued. I started getting used to it.

Things escalated. It happened in his truck and other places too for many years. He was like a father to me. The only father I knew. And when he went away camping one time for 2 days I cried myself to sleep because he wasn’t there. Even my mother’s presence didn’t comfort me.

I don't blame my mother for anything. She was never home but that was because she worked. Back then i didn't understand why she was always working but know as a grown up i do. If it wasn't for her i wouldn't have had good clothes and shoes. She provided everything for and even as of today she still does. She's helping me pay for college. Nobody in my family knows about what my uncle and i did. This may sound crazy, but i don't hate my uncle the way 100% of all victims do. It may be because i have mixed feelings about him and my past. Obviously being molested as a child isn't something someone wants to remember but in spite of everything that we did, he always had my back and i still talk to him today.
My uncle lives alone. He always throws parties at his house almost every weekend. There's just something about him that makes me feel sorry for him. His face, his look. Every time i see him or go to his house he barely seems to look at me almost like if he's depressed. We do talk like normal and when he calls me he's always inviting me to drink a beer or 2 with him. Yes, he's been drinking for awhile now and i mean heavy drinking and it worries me because he never drank before. I want to say he probably feels ashamed after all those years of what he did. Like i said before i do very well in coping with my past. There are times when i remember some things and i get butterflies in my stomach. I'm not gay. I have a girlfriend, though I sometimes get frustrated when we disagree on what we can do sexually. I love her alot, and the idea of cheating on her for someone that can satisfy my urges hurts me. I know that these fantasies are the result of the things done to me throughout my childhood. I want to talk to my uncle about it but honestly he seems too miserable for me to bring up what he's probably ashamed of. I want to tell him that i don't hate him and that i love him. I cant imagine how much that'll probably help him. I was thinking that after i tell him that, I'd tell him about how our "Game" affected me today. I'll wait for a better time i guess. I've never been depressed or suicidal nor have i hurt myself before, but i do have trigger moments. I hate trigger moments. I try my very best to be active and positive at all times. I'm athletic and playing sports keep me positive. I love helping people and kids. The kids in my neighborhood look up to me and I always try to be there for all of them. I never let anything bring me down, and I want to do well in life so that my uncle can see that i am happy so that he can cheer up a little bit whether he deserves to be happy or not. I forgave my uncle which is why i was able to stay strong and positive. Healing always starts with forgiveness. Thanks so much for such a great Website. Im so glad this is finally done.

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Abused By My Sister

by Tom
(Minnesota, USA)

My family is torn and I'm getting thrown out: 
It all started back when I was about 6 or so when my bigger sister would dress up and put lipstick on me and rub me all over and kiss me all over. I thought it was normal at the time. that was back in 1970 well I started to wet my pants at night about then and I started getting into fights then .it happened about 5 times that she did this to me. Well as the years past I turned to alcohol and drugs. Well about 13 yrs ago ill call her my wife Debbie died and I turned to drugs again!!! About a year later I quit cold turkey. And all these emotions start coming to a head and 1 day I called my mom up an said come over she did and when she got home my sister says to her before she even said anything I suppose he said I molested him!! well I did say that and she denied it and my family believes her. Why would she say I suppose he said I molested him if it wasn't the truth? shes had numerous break downs and all I want is for her to admit it and maybe I could for get it but today was... But today easter was the last straw mom I finally confronted her and mom pretty much thro me out of the house and nobody wants to see me anymore and all they ever say is I don't want to talk about it!!! Well I have 1 person to talk to my wife who I love with all my HEART!!! if it wasn't for her I would have probably killed my self long ago. Where do I turn? I don't know how to get my family to see my side. Im feeling the lowest ive ever felt!!!!

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Looking to Get Out

by Jasmine
(Texas, USA)

I guess you can say that I came from a family that abused me because that is what really happened. I am 13 years old. When I was born, my dad had wanted a boy and instead had me as his first born. And because of that he went to the military to get away from me as much as possible and left my mom to take care of me and my sister. By the time I was 5, my dad had retired and starting being a dad and got a job working as a substitute for my school district. However, him working around the house had made it hard to live because whenever I would ask him to help me with homework, he would help, but at the same time he decided to correct me by hitting me and throwing me across the room. Later the abuse became more severe till I was being abused daily and I was finished of with bruises, black eyes, scars, cuts, and more. That's when my mom tried to talk to him asking him to stop hurting me and he ignored her and continued. This lasted for 6 years. my mom and dad were arguing all the time and finally my dad got so fed he up, he packed up his stuff and left. After that I thought that I would be safe. but I was wrong. My mom, out of frustration started hitting me, cornering me, began hitting my head on any hard surface dragged me head first down the stairs, kick me, slap me, and pull my hair. Currently, my hair is so unbelievably thin, that I might lose it all before I turn 18, the doctor says. My mom has done this for three years already making it almost the fourth. Life is hard for me because I have to live in agony till I am 18, which is the age she is kicking me out, but I still have a hope that I can get out early or make it up with my mom. Lately I have been looking online for close foster homes and hotlines to see what I can do for others, so that whoever I run into who is abused and doesn't know what to do I'm there for them so that maybe they can be there for others too when they need it. This is my life story and I want to share this so that you can relate to this and let you know you are not alone. If you need help as soon as possible, look online for hotlines, if you go to church,ask for counseling, or call the police, tell a friend, or talk to a teacher to see if they can help you. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and I hoped it helped you as much as it has helped others!

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First Step to Healing

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

i don't know how well im going to write this i will prob. have alot of errors but this is a first so here it goes ......when i was little i always remember my father being so angry i remember wishing he just wouldn't come home he would get mad over the smallest things (his favorite pen missing) and he would hit us with a belt until some one would confess. since i was about 3 he would always call us stupid idiot etc i remember one time i probably was about 4 or 5 me and my brother had been fighting he made me hold a knife to my brothers throat and told me if you hate him so much kill him he would mentally and physically beat us i know i have had to miss school bc i had marks he would always say to us just remember ill go to jail for murder before i go for child abuse! things seemed to have got better when we moved i was about 10 then he still had a temper but things seemed to have not been as bad but then when i was 12 or 13 he started doing photography and working with Photoshop it started out as simple things like taking pictures of me and my sister dressed up but then slowly started taking nude pictures of my sister (his step daughter she was 16)i knew something was going on but i honestly was too scared of him to speak up my mother also knew and she would take pictures with my sister i later found out he was threatening my mothers life if she told anyone he pressured me for a long time to take pictures with my sister and i actually was bullied into it one time after that i tried to kill myself and he pretty much left me alone i think it was his fear of drawing attention to himself but the abuse with my sister continued i never really knew how bad it was because they always went into his bed room but my sister is 27 now and one day she just broke down and told me "he never raped me she said he would just pose me and tell me i was a playboy bunny and if i didn't do what he said he wouldn't let me go to collage or school he wouldn't let me study" (school was every thing to my sister she is a teacher now) my sister told me he would even go as far as to tell her when to she her area and he would touch her to pose her and he would dress her in different outfits he told her when she got older if she ever told he would show the pics to people and make her loose her job i was so heart broken my sister has shielded me and my brother from alot when we were little she took many beatings just so we wouldn't. she would hide us away when he would be in one of his anger fits we have never really talked about it with anyone until my mother divorce my father. i broke down and told my aunt i made her promise not to tell any one b/c me and my sister both want to forget it and move on my dad is a pastor now and lives far away me and my sister are both working on things together but i think just admitting it happen is the first step so here i go i was am a victim of child abuse....

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Victim No More

by Alex
(Location Undisclosed)

My abuse seems like a horrible dream. When I was two, my father backhanded me so hard I flew out of my high chair and across the kitchen. This is according to my mother; obviously I don't remember it. That was the beginning to a long history of abuse. When I was 3, my parents divorced. My father had been extremely abusive to my mother. He was also embezzling money from his job and having an open affair with his secretary. He was quite close to being caught. I wish he had been. After the divorce, my mother and sister and I moved to a small house in a rough neighborhood. When I was 6, my sister began to sexually abuse me. She played this "game" of pretending to be a stripper, or a prostitute. She'd give me a dollar, make me watch her get naked and dance, and make me touch her with the dollar. She was 12. I was sworn to secrecy, as seems to be the protocol for sexual abuse. I highly suspect that my father sexually abused her when she was younger. I have no idea how she could've learned the things she was doing to me other than by being exposed to abuse herself. When I tearfully told my mother about the abuse, she called me a liar looking for attention. I've since reconciled with my sister. But I'm still quite angry with my mother. She instilled a feeling of worthlessness in me. She has asked for forgiveness, saying she just couldn't believe something like what I had reported could happen. I'm not sure how much I believe her. While she was as much a victim of my father as I was, she still had an intense passive-aggressive side. She was emotionally abusive, unstable, and manipulative. I used to fantasize about being adopted when I was very young. Now I understand why.

After several years, the memory of the abuse from my sister faded away. I began to retreat emotionally whenever I could. I was dispondant and frustrated with life. It wasn't until my father began to sexually abuse me that I remembered what my sister had done. As far as I can remember, my father had been emotionally abusive since I was very young. His game was to play my sister and I against our mother. He was an expert and wearing down my self-esteem and making it feel like it was my fault. Interestingly, my sister tried to report this abuse to my mother. She believed it as much as she believed me. When I was 12, I had no one to talk to about the strange pubescent feelings I was beginning to have. My father had deluded my senses enough to make me feel like I could trust him with asking about the "birds and the bees." His response was to show me a pornographic video.

I remember it quite well. I was entranced by the video until my father "asked" me if I minded that he masturbate. It was something along the lines of "You see, I'm very aroused by this. So I'm going to start masturbating now, okay?" I was terrified and I couldn't even respond. After a little while he told me to watch him because he was about to orgasm. He said he wanted me to see what it looked like. He played it off as a learning experience. This trend continued for several years. Every time I saw him, it was "so what kind of porno do you want me to get you?" He made me believe that it was some sacred father-son bonding ritual that I could never speak of to anybody. Although it always made me very uncomfortable, I gradually began to accept it. I didn't realize anything wrong was happening until something happened. I was talking with friends about some sexual stuff, as kids going through puberty typically do. I let it slip that I had seen semen, although I didn't say how or where. My friends were perplexed and disgusted. I quickly tried my best to cover it up, saying I was only kidding. I told them I was just trying to gross them out. But I realized that something about the ritual my father was making me endure wasn't quite sacred, or even normal. Another incident further encouraged my doubt about my father's intentions. We were on a road trip and we stopped at a motel to stay the night. He tried to rent a porno movie from the hotel's in-room on demand service. The technology hadn't been perfected yet, and he ran into technical difficulties. He had to call the front desk for help. When the repairman knocked on the door, I was quickly hid in the bathroom. The lights were off, and I was instructed to lay motionless in the shower and not to breathe. I heard my father talking to the repairman about the TV and how the on demand service always acted up. I remember feeling like my heart was going to come out of my mouth. I was shaking intensely. I could only hold my breath for so long, which scared me. I was horrified that the repairman would come into the bathroom, find me, and deliver me to the police for exposing myself to a porno movie. That was the lie my father had me trapped in. I remember feeling angry at him afterwords, not about being scared in the bathroom, but about renting the movie in the first place. It was the first time I recognized being angry at him for doing what he was doing.

One day, I accidentally divulged some information about what my father was doing to me to my mother. But I was so deluded by the sacred father-son bond that I recanted what I said almost immediately. I guess my mother didn't think much of it at the time. Later on, when I was 16, she told a therapist she was seeing about how strange it was that I would tell her something like that. The therapist, being bound to morality and federal law, told her he had to report it immediately to Child Protection Services. I was immediately scheduled to go in for an interview with a social worker. Before I went in, however, I had a phone call with my father. It was his birthday and I was calling to wish him a happy birthday. I also felt the need to tell him that I was sorry, but the news of the abuse had been leaked and I was going to be interviewed by a social worker. He was so angry that I couldn't just let him have a happy birthday. My mother saw that I was distressed talking to him, grabbed the phone from me, and proceeded to curse him out. The first interview I had with the social worker was dismal. The interview room was dimly lit with no windows. I sat on a dingy old couch surrounded by creepy stuffed animal dolls that the social workers used to help other kids describe the nature of their abuse. I told the social worker that everything was a lie. I protected my father. Somehow, the social worker knew I was lying. Despite the environment of the interview, he actually made me feel quite secure. So I was scheduled for a second interview. That time I told the truth. He urged my mother to press charges and to file for a restraining order. But she only set up an informal agreement with my father that I wasn't allowed to be with him unless it was in an open public place. He violated that agreement several times, of course. But he stopped molesting me. My mother's reasoning for not pressing charges was that she feared I was too fragile for any court testimony. I can't really blame her, but I wish she had gone ahead with it anyway. That was the second time my father narrowly escaped major prison time.

I stopped talking to my father for a while. One day, word got out that he was going to take my nephew camping. My mother was immediately alarmed and notified my nephew's mother (my half-sister). To my surprise, she was very quick to pull my nephew from the camping trip and even quicker to believe what my mother was telling her about my father. I guess since I had been rebuked whenever I tried to report any abuse, I didn't think anyone could believe anyone else's claims. I heard that my two half-sisters have since severed all contact with my father. My father was furious. He damned my mother beyond any vitriol he spewed about her in the past. He had the nerve to call and ask me if I thought he was a monster. I hung up on him. He sent several damming emails to me shortly afterward. He claimed that I didn't understand the value of family and they I was tearing the family apart. It was then that I finally recognized him as the monster he was and is. I severed all ties with him. I was 20.

(Some final comments from Alex on healing are below, in the comments section. Moved because they did not fit within the template I use for stories.)

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Trying to Reconcile

by Andrew
(Virginia, USA)

Roman's 8:28: 
From very early age my dad was very good to my older brother and i. My mother has told me he would get down on the floor and play with us. But at some point my brother began to abuse me. Once sexually, then maybe some physical abuse and emotional. I was in the army and turned twenty one. From that time on i would go and see him, he was always abusive. I seem to want to renconcile things with him. He abusive me for fifty years. In jan. 1974 i recive Christ as my Saviour, that can make a tremendous change in our life, but i still suffered. At one point i told him i was going to have him supenoed into court. He laugh at me. I did not take him to court. I should have. He too recieved Christ. He still abused me. I forgave him. I have really suffered. I need to study more spirtually about who i am in Christ. Been thru a lot of couseling. I still don't know who i am! Thks. Andrew

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Child Abuse Story From Rachelle For My Boyfriend

by Rachelle
(Location Undisclosed)

I come from a poor-ish, but very happy family and I never experienced abuse...at least not from them. I met my boyfriend about two and a half years ago and we have been dating for the past two years. He has three brothers and his dad left their family when he was 17 for another woman. This was rough on all of them, and A--- has had to become a dad to his younger brothers. Yet he has told me many happy stories from his childhood (he grew up in Mexico.) Stories of playing football in the street, his mom singing to him, getting into fights on the playground, etc. However, he only recently told me that his dad was physically abusive to him as well.

A--- was simply telling me about a time when his dad was angry with him for not being able to learn to read (in Spanish) when he was about five years old. A--- said his dad made him strip down to the waist and beat him with a belt while he tried to get him to learn his letters continuing this for about 2 hours until A--- was dazed, bleeding, and so exhausted he couldn't even cry anymore. He told me about this, but more as a story. When I told him it sounded like abuse, he told me it was just normal, and that it was his fault; that he deserved it since he was so slow at school and other things and he shouldn't have made his dad angry. He's told me countless other stories since then which confirm what I originally thought and he has the scars to prove it; on his back, shoulders, chest, and arms. For awhile, he insisted that it wasn't abuse, yet emphatically told me he could never treat a child like that. I can see this is true.

A--- loves children and when I watch him interact with them or anyone else, he is always so gentle and kind. After we compared childhoods, he finally consented that the way his dad treated him wasn't normal and that he needed to stop blaming himself for what happened. It's hard because he still blames himself when things go wrong. He blames himself for his dad leaving, for his brother being arrested, for his mom losing her job, for any arguments we have. The thing is, he is one of the best people I know. He's gentle, kind, compassionate, and will befriend anyone. Almost every time we're driving together, he sees a homeless man he knows and picks him up to give him a ride somewhere. That's just who he is.

Despite his father telling him he was stupid, A--- graduated college, has a good job, gets along with everyone, and avoids conflict like the plague. I'm so blessed to be with him and I just hope I can continue to help him sort out his past and improve his self image. He has made wonderful progress so far, but still has a ways to go...

Can Never Forget

by Elina
(Washington, USA)

"You're not doing it right!" yelled my boss. He looked furious and his face was beet red. I started trembling. His anger and tone of voice brought flashbacks of something way too familiar. I started crying. I ran to the corner, curled up in fetal position, and started crying hysterically. I was so scared. He came to me and put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I am sorry...". I shrugged off his hand and started begging him, "Please do not touch me, please do not touch me...".

Abuse does so much damage to a person, even years after it has stopped. People say the only way to heal is to forgive and forget. Forget? How can a person forget traumatizing memories that cause fear even to this day.

It all started when I was about six years old. Both my parents worked overtime and night shifts so I never got to see them. I was going from house to house, getting babysat by any of my parents' friends and family that was available.

There was this boy, he was about twenty years old and he believed that he was allowed to touch me and satisfy his sexual desires just because his mother babysat me sometimes. He would take me to the garage, hide in a corner, and did disgusting things to me. I wasn't even sure what was going on but I knew it was not good. At first it started out as him doing things to me and I would just stand there shaking, unsure of what to do. As he started getting used to it he would tell me "do this", "put this here", do not stop, keep on doing that", "if you do not do this I will set you on fire". It went on for awhile and I kept it a secret. I think I even got a little used to it. But then my mom got pregnant, she quit her job, and that is when another nightmare began.

Since I rarely saw my parents, I did not really know them that well. I did not know what kind of monster my mother was. She was an angry, hateful monster. She blamed everything on me. EVERYTHING. Even things that did not make sense. She was always angry at me. I remember I was eight years old and I was washing the dishes. I dropped a heavy platter and it shattered into pieces. This awoke my little brother. "I wish I did not have a child like you, you little monster. You are like the devil. I hate you. I would trade you for any brat child!", she said in an angry, loud voice. She took me to my room and whipped me with a leather belt about 30 times. "Apologize to me now!" she screamed. I couldn't. I couldn't even let a noise out of my mouth. This made her more mad and she whipped me more. Oh, I will never forget that belt. It was something I encountered almost every day when I was younger. If the belt was not around, she would use her bare hands to hit my face or a few times she would push me down the stairs. I never knew why my mom did what she did, why I made her angry, or why she hated me so much. I do not know till this day.

As I got older, it got more verbal instead of physical. When my parents were on the verge of divorce, she told me it was all because of me and started slapping my face. When my brother got deathly sick, she said my presence made him that way. She told me I do not deserve to live and that she would rather have a murderer as a child instead of me. Sometimes I would tell my dad but she would tell him I am lying and he never helped me. So I stopped telling him. I stopped trusting people. I never told anyone anything. Oh how I wished to.

My childhood sexual abuse haunted me and what my mom did to me made me helpless. I wanted a friend I could tell all this to, not some stranger that was getting paid to listen to me. So instead, I started eating. A lot. I gained 50 lbs in one month. Getting fat made me unhealthy and depressed. So I started binge eating. I lost 60 lbs in 2 months. I started getting high and drunk because it made me happy. Temporarily. I let guys do whatever they wanted to me. I didn't care. I was defiled anyway. All I ever asked guys was to turn off the lights so they wouldn't see me cry while they did their business.

I am twenty now. Yes, I have gotten my life in order. I do not do drugs, I do not drink, and I live a healthy lifestyle. I got a good job and have my own place. I am independent. I am free. I will NEVER let anyone treat me that way anymore.

No, I will never forget what happened to me. People who say "forget" have obviously never had anything like this happen to them. There are certain situations that scare the living daylights out of me. When people yell, when people are angry, and walking down a street alone. But you know what? No one hits me, touches me, or tells me that I am worth nothing. Because I am worth a lot, I was put on this earth for a reason. I am human. I deserve life.

Is everyone as lucky as I am to get out of abuse situations like that? No. Children can't do anything. And yes, even some adults. Some people hold on to the hope that one day the abuser will stop. But no one deserves to be treated like that. NO ONE.

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Getting Adopted

by Taylor
(Kansas, USA)

I lived with my mom and younger brother. My mom didn't care about me, She would come home drunk and take out all her anger on me. When my brother was born I was five years old. November 17, 2004 I become the main provider to my little brother. My mom was unpredictable every day she brought home a new guy and she didn't care what he did to me. She made me feel worthless, my grandma and my brother where only reason I stayed I couldn't leave them. Then two years later my grandma died of cancer and my little brother was all I had left. Then in sixth grade my brother finally told someone. I was the one protecting him. He want to protect me. He wanted to quit living on the streets. So that day I went into foster Care. Then they separated me and my brother. He ended up going to his dads. Then I found out that i was getting adopted, on October 22, 2014.

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Longlasting Effects of Abuse

by JC
(USA)

Attempted abuse had long lasting effects for an 8 year old boy: 
As a young kid I used to hang out every day at a small farm about a quarter of a mile from my house, There were 4 boys, one a couple years younger than me, my friend, a year older than me and 2 older brothers yet, one was maybe 3 or 4 years older, the other maybe 7 or 8 years older. There was an older step sister who was supposed to be keeping an eye on things but honestly, she was often not even on the premises. I don't think my mother would have allowed me to go there if she knew how lax and / or non existent supervision was there. I was about 8 years old and I got to drive farm tractors, field trucks and ride horses. I used to help them mow, rake and bale hay. I had hung out here daily for a couple of years anyway. The older brothers would always pick on their younger brothers and me. One day after putting up some hay bales in the hay loft the oldest brother later asked me to come up and help him restack some of the bales. When I got up there, I had been tricked. He asked me to sit with him and he started talking about all the things that he let me do there, driving stuff and riding horses and asked if I like doing those things. I told him I did. While we were talking he undid his fly and took his penis out and wanted me to perform oral sex on him. I knew this was very wrong and I started to cry. He kept trying to coax me saying I wouldn't be able to drive the trucks or tractors any more and he got pretty pushy about his request. I was crying and sobbing uncontrollably. After what seemed like a forever and with tears streaming down my face, he told me to get out of there and never come back. He said if I ever said anything to anybody about this he would kill my mother and father. He was an intimidating figure to me and I believed he would. Consequently I never said a word about this to anyone for over 20 years. I never, ever went back there either. I always wondered if my mother noticed. I had been going there every single day for a long, long time and just stopped. How couldn't she have noticed. I eventually told my wife and an older sister about this. I think this really screwed me up and I think if I had actually fulfilled his wishes it would be even worse? I have had much guilt over this as I got older as I realized my inaction to tell my parents or the police, may have had negative consequences for some other poor kid or kids, after all, as I got older I realized this sick bastard would prey on the weak. This may sound awful but I had heard many, many years later that this person died a pretty horrible death and I didn't feel sorry at all. Sometimes I wish I had been able to unload about this so long, long ago.

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Child Abuse Story From Loving Father

by Loving Father
(Canada)

Our family live in Ontario, Canada. We have a son. He just turned 18. One month ago I was arguing with him about his marks in school. He become very angry this time and said that he is not a normal child as he was raped by some man in school when he was in grade 3 and now he wants to kill himself.

I didn't believe what he said but we sent him to psychiatrist who said if it is not true she will find out. After the visit she said to us that she beleives it is true.

We don't know what to do now. We don't know if we should go to police to report this case. Our son doesn't want to talk about it and he is in a very deep depression now.

Through So Much

by Renne
(Location Undisclosed)

When I was a little girl. About the age of 6 . My parents would go out and leave my grandfather to babysit me and my siblings.. I can still remember the faint smell of his shirt as he laid on top of me. I can still remember the pain I felt when he was trying to hurt me. I can still remember the excuse he gave my parents for being in my room in the first place. He would barricade the door with chairs and dressers and toys so no one could interfere with his plans of abuse. I remember how he pulled my pants down and forced my legs open so he could force himself in me. I kept telling him "oww it hurts . Please stop" but i guess he didn't hear me. He did that for a very long time. Then he went to jail. I grew older but I still had to go to a psychiatrist. When I turned 9, the same thing happened but with my uncle. He would buy me anything I wanted and did anything for me. One day, in April of 2011, he got me and my older sister drunk of alcohol and drugs . I was a little more sober than my sister so I can remember everything unlike her. I remember taking her to his bed because our little siblings were asleep in the other room. I laid next to her and he would constantly come in and molest me , he even made me touch him. I felt so disgusted. He even went to my sister while she was sleeping and tried to molest her. While he was raping me, while the tears slid down my face, he would tell me he was so sorry. Yeah me too. This wasn't just a one time thing . This happened every time I was at his house. Every. Single. Time. I would be scared to go get some bread or a pot from his house because i knew what would come. I started to cut my arms up every single day. Some times up to three times a day. I even put a blade up to my throat and considered commiting suicide. And this is only 40% of the bad in my life. I've been through everything. I've been homeless I've been through alot more than people know. And it still affects me to this day. Its stopped at the age of twelve and im 16 now. I have nightmares every night. The only thing that keeps me sane is my savior. My boyfriend. Hes been with me since it was happening. And he wont let me fall anymore. This is part of my life story. The one nobody knows about.

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Unwanted by Parents

by Donna N
(Pennsylvania, USA)

I am a middle child older brother me and younger brother. I do have an older half sister by mother and a half brother whom died because she didn't take care of him. Then came along E-- and they got married, they had us then he found out about my half sister. He was in Heaven because he beat her starved her and sexually abused. My sister had a cleft pallet and lip and he would call her names and lock her in the dark basement mother did nothing. She was going to school when the nuns noticed her dirty and passing out from hunger. They put her in foster care. Didn't see her for years until I turned 16 she was 20. Then the bad stuff started. She started to fight back with them throwing large ashtrays punching him and getting back at him any way she could. Good for her. She finally got out. Never saw her again.

My abuse was sexual, by both of them, my mother would be naked and my dad would pleasure himself while staring at me. I am ashamed all the time. I can't go in a store because I'm ashamed. I can't talk to people because I'm ashamed. I don't have any friends because I'm ashamed. I can't function. I stay home all the time because I am ashamed.

We never had any food in fridge but it was FULL of beer. I went to high school with only 2 skirts to wear and got made fun of. I had no winter coat to wear or boots. I had a pair of canvas tennis shoes with holes where the toes are. Went to school hungry. No lunch no dinner nothing. I was 16 and weighed 66 lbs.

I had kidney surgery at 4 because my mother kicked me across the floor like a football. I almost died. I wish I would have. She didn't go to the hospital to see me. I was there for 5 months. I could go on and on.

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Child Abuse Story From Travis

by Travis
(Location Undisclosed)

i was about 5 or 6 yo when i seen my dad on top of my cousin, who was less than a year older than me. she is like a sister to me, and i asked her why she was crying... she told me that he was having "sex" with her and i didnt understand. or, maybe i did understand.. idk.... anyways she "showed" me what he did. and i lost my virginity at 6 years old. it continued for about 4 years. i dodnt think what we was doing was wrong, but my gut told me otherwise. i decided to tell my grandma.. who just confronted him about it, of coarse, he denied. then he confronted me about it, and said "we could share her". at 7 yo, it just didnt sit right with that idea, but i continued to have sex with her alone, she told me my 2 older brothers had sex with her b4 i even started.. then a blessing happened... he died of cancer.. and we moved to indiana. i didnt talk to her for over ten years. now, im 25, and even with all my drinking, i remember it like it was last night. a few weeks ago, she sent a friend request on facebook... and it went in a direction i blame my father on. she wants to b "with"me...but im married now, but i have such strong feelings for her to this day that... idk, im lost... my cousin has 2 kids now and i have none... i still fantasize about back then, but im afraid to loose my wife, whom i love with every corrupt beat my heart has... but, i have hated my father so much... im scarred ive turnned into him...ive thought of things thats not normal... my wife has 2 kids, a teenage daughter and an autistic son who is 10. i dont want to be a monster... but thoughts ... maybe memories come in my head... plz help me, before i do something like him. thats all i ask, some advice... something. im out of hope. and am out of options

Child Abuse Story From Samantha L

by Samantha L
(Georgia, USA)

My dad was a severe drunk abusive to 6 children. He beat our mother on a daily basis. He cheated and drank all of our family money away; often on big-haired women who frequented the local legion hall. He would come home sometimes at 3 am wake all of us and hold a gun to our heads just for the sick fun only he enjoyed.

When I was 4 and our mother was working, dad would lock me in the bathroom where he exposed himself to me. He also watched as my little hands would bleed from the ring of shives (knives) on a ring that he got from the auto factory where he worked. But I trusted him because he was my dad: my so-called "protector".

I remember all 6 of us had hiding places as soon as we knew he was headed home. But if he got a hold of you...he would make me kneel on the floor while he held my neck in between his knees as they pressed harder the more I cried out.

I used to blame my mother but in the 60's and 70's where were you going to take 6 kids? Dad would have found us.

I had a reoccurring dream of a grizzly bear a huge kodiak that is behind me and my brother. Our snowmobile gets stuck through a narrow opening and just as the grizzly reaches out to grab me we get through. I had this dream my whole life but I finally knew who my grizzly bear was. It's... My Dad! He was that Totem my bear my fear the Monster in my closet and under my bed.

He is still living, and after several attempts to try and salvage something he decided to walk away with a new family and he left all of us with the scars. I can forgive but will never forget.

This story is for all of the abused adult children of an alcoholic. In loving Memory of my Mom 1932-2010. I Love you Mom.

Home: Where the hurt Is

by Cynthia
(India)

Home. While for others that four-letter word would mean the world, in me it triggered two emotions- fear and shame. For as long as I remember, I’ve been afraid of my family. Especially, of my father. My mom was kind of forced into the marriage and she accepted things. He was hardly around and no one knew what he did for a living. As if that wasn't enough, he was abusive- verbally and physically.

He was absent but also never paid for us. All through my childhood I never had anything new- from clothes to books, everything was old. All my cousins went to fancy schools. I went to a school down the road, which had a big hand in making me what I am today. I studied on concessions and never had anything called pocket money. I never got gifts for my birthday or for Christmas. And over time I got used to it. Without my father around, we somehow managed to be at peace. It was when he came home that all hell broke loose. There was shouting and screaming galore. I was very small, and could never bear his presence. It wasn’t long before the physical abuse began. He would seize me by the hair, beat me up whenever he felt like, hurl things at me, and savagely twist my limbs, calling me things that one would never call his daughter. I hid under the bed for hours, crying, trembling. no one tried to save me, ever.

At school, I was a loner, with hardly any friend. I never spoke about my family, neither did I bring anyone home. I was extremely reserved and always kept to myself. People often thought there’s something wrong with me because I spoke so little. I went to music school and was one of the top students there. I liked school because it kept me away from home for a few hours. I was ashamed of myself. Ashamed of being the daughter of a man like that. What would people think if they came to know? They’d hate me. They’d think I was responsible for everything.

I don't know if it was because of all the stress and trauma, but I was diagnosed with acute migraine at the age of 13. The pain and nausea were blinding. Every other day I'd be sick, without finding help or support in anyone. No one suspected anything either. Perhaps it was my smile...it hid the world of pain I carried inside me. I never had a family to be proud of or parental love. All I ever got was expectations and burdens. At one point I thought I’d go insane. And the worst part was being made a punch bag. Somehow everyone blamed me for everything that was not right, made me feel that I was the root of all problems. Nobody acknowledged the torture I went through at home. I was always told, “He’s your father after all.” So he could beat me up, call me things you never call your daughter and blame me for being a girl?

The depression began when I was 16. Every waking hour at home was spent crying, curled up in one corner of my darkened room. I’d have severe anxiety attacks and had almost become a nervous wreck. That, coupled with my migraine attacks and nosebleeds had begun to almost cripple me. One night, I decided to put an end to it all. I never knew I could be that brave until I picked up the sharpest knife in the house. I used it to rip my wrist apart. It was over in a minute, maybe less. All I felt was pain. And then nothing.

I remained in the CCU for more than a week. Through the fog and pain, I realised one thing- that I was alive. But that wasn't what I wanted. There was nothing in my life worth living for. I had to die! I had my share of lectures and advice, that no problem was too serious, that life was too beautiful to throw away. Of course, I didn't believe any of it. No one knew what I was going through at home.

But my suicide attempt and subsequent survival marked a new chapter in my life. After being discharged from hospital, I met a psychiatrist who changed my life in more ways than one. Yes, I was suffering from clinical depression, anxiety disorder and PTSD, and there are medications for treating them. But for the first time ever, I found a patient ear and that was the best medication right then. Dr. Fletcher had heard about me from my cousin, who was his son's best friend, and volunteered to come and see me when he heard about the tragedy. I found in him the father I never had, the support I so desperately needed. I cried, I spoke, I cried again, and he was there beside me, listening to it all, without offering any advice or being judgmental.

But the damage had gone deep. I had survived, but I still didn't find reason to live. I stopped taking the medicines midway. What was the point of taking them? What was the point of being alive? Nothing that anyone did made any impact on me. I was beyond the point of caring. I JUST COULD NOT TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Dr Fletcher stayed by me at my lowest. I did not have more than two close friends but I don’t know how much I trusted them. My ability to trust had dropped to zero. I feared that whoever touched me would beat me up. I could not eat, needed sedatives to be able to sleep, and would become nervous about every single thing- even about waking up every morning. I built walls around myself and let nobody come close.

The atmosphere at home never changed-it hasn’t changed to this day. Neither did my shy, nervous nature. But despite all odds, I topped college, became an active blogger and writer and pursued my passion for music. Dr Fletcher and his best friend arranged two life-changing trips for me-one to this beautiful hill-station in India called Uttarakhand and another to London in a span of two years. There was no more physical abuse after my suicide attempt. Writing was the greatest catharsis and the adversities just made my relationship with the written word even stronger.

I’m 23 now. I have a successful writing career, have two published books, and am a support-group volunteer and freelance counsellor. I am open-minded, I never judge and I love to help others. My volunteer work has helped me a lot. When I started sharing my story with other abuse survivors, I realised that I'm not only encouraging them to speak out, but also sharing my pain. And sharing always helps. When normal people don’t understand my fears and feelings, these people do. I’m honest with my life and not ashamed to share my story anymore. And I encourage others to not be ashamed either.

I have had only one relationship until now and it was two years ago. I loved him a lot-that was one of the first times when I realised even I’m capable of loving someone. But he was married, and I didn’t want him to cheat. So we could never have the relationship I’d have liked to have. Although he made me dream, made me feel alive, and it seemed he was everything I could ever ask for, his marriage and my past kept getting in the way. We never got physically intimate, because I felt vulnerable taking my clothes off. I loved him like I had never loved anyone ever, but something told me it wouldn’t last forever. My intuition is strong and I knew he’d leave me and return to his wife. Now when I look back, I feel I had never really trusted him. I hid a lot of things because I was ashamed. And I could never bring myself to showing him my naked body. So I’m 23 and still a virgin. No, I’m not afraid anymore; I just can’t find a man I can trust with my life. But my past, my fragile emotional condition and my disturbed mind were too much to handle for all the men I’ve met till date. And they all abandoned me mid-way.

I’m not on medications anymore, but the scars will never go away completely. The soul never heals. And being honest with my story hasn’t helped me much either. People abandon me, judge me all the time and find it just plain impossible to understand me sometimes. As someone struggling with depression, I am different on different days. One day I might smile and talk to even a complete stranger and another day, I might push away even the closest friend. Anxiety cripples me time and again and PTSD ensures I tremble when the phone rings, am afraid to answer the doorbell and shouting and screaming in the neighbour’s house make me throw up.

I do dream of a better life with better people. I hope to find a man who’ll be my soulmate in the truest sense of the word. Someone who’s brave and mature enough to accept me as I am and who will be a part of my journey to healing. I hope someday I won’t have these fears and depression and this crippling annoyance called anxiety. I have definitely become stronger but I have a long way to go. I need time, I need understanding. Sometimes I fear I’ll be alone forever. I can’t change my past but I strive to make my future better.

I was talking to a few survivors the other day and a question kept playing on my mind-what do people get by abusing others, besides sadistic pleasure?

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Child Abuse Story From Satwinder

by Satwinder
(Location Undisclosed)

it started from childhood where i was not allow to out not mix with youngs girl controlled by parent it so hard when sikh people think they can abuse children it unfair part of growing up parent never had time for their children my earthly father throw cars keys was not allow to talk to no one it was getting tough for me no one ever listern or care the more they controlled me i was going far from them the hurt and pain i was suffering i was sikh then it was like i was in mad house to me wanted some one to talk to there was no one to listern to i was feeling hopeless just think where i from sikh i was abuse from my brother mother father i was lonely it good i can share what i been through i even was sexaul abuse by other member of family i found true god jesus i got relationship with my true god jesus be bless by what you read jesus love you

Child Abuse Story From John M

by John M
(Mexico)

My mothers boyfriend started sexually abusing me when I was 8 years old. I had no male figures I could trust much less speak to them about what was going on. The abuse got worse after their marriage.

I was subject to sexual activities several times a week. Finally after several months of this never ending life of sexual activities with my stepfather I told my mom. It made things worse and for the next three years my life was full of confusion, shame, suicidal thoughts, insomnia, and other things. This abuse started sometimes before August of 1969 and stopped in Nov 1974. I was living in the state of Mississippi.

I still suffer from severe depression, suicidal thoughts, and many other mental disabilities. I thank god for all this coming out into the open and child abuse is not as easy for predators now as it was when I was a boy.

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I Told

by Gabrielle
(West Virginia, USA)

I was in kindergarten when my mom started bringing around her new "boyfriend". I'll call him D. At first I really liked him he was really nice and had two daughters. Me and the girls really hit it off we became so close in a very short time. My mom and D's relationship moved very fast. We moved into a new house and I had to change schools.

It was probably half way through my first grade year when him and my mom got married it was also when he started being all touchy. I was pretty creeped out yet I didn't say anything because he became really mean to me and my mom all of a sudden.

As time went on things got worse. He said "If you tell anyone you will never see your mom or dad again and you will have to live somewhere else" "you will be sorry" those words Haunted me until I was in the 8th grade. By that time he and my mom had had 2 other children.

I was getting older and by 8th grade I knew right from wrong. To be honest I knew what he was doing from the beginning was wrong I was just too afraid to say anything but I will never forget the day I just got so fed up with everything! He threw a hot pan at my mom. That was the day I decided that everything needed to come out no matter what happened to me. I was not going to let anything happen to my 2 baby sisters.

That next weekend when we went to pick up my stepdad's two other daughters we made a quick pit stop at his grandmother's. My step sister forgot her inhaler so we walked up the road to get it. When we got up there I was asked how I was and if I was okay because the girls had told their mom how mean their dad was to me. I remember taking a deep breath and letting everything come out. I trusted her because I knew she would do anything in her power to protect me. She put me in her car called my grandparents to meet her. That Monday I was picked up from gym class and was questioned about what had happened. Of course I denied it. At first because what little girl would admit to it with 2 guys in the room? They explained that I wasn't in trouble but I needed to make sure I told the truth so I did.

That day I moved in with my grandma and grandpa. That day my mom's only words to me were "after everything you did I still Love you" That broke my heart and still to this day it brings tears to my eyes.

My mom got caught talking to him and my grandparents also got caught. we weren't suppose to have any contact. When they got caught I had to go live with my dad and my two little sisters were placed in a foster home for close to a month. My mom finally got custody back. She also divorced him. close to a year later I moved back in with my mom and sisters.

When I was a sophomore I began the court process which got held out a year. we went back my Junior year where he finally took a 10 year plea. I got up right in front of him and spoke. I thought that would make me feel better. I didn't....

I am now 19 years old and I am still struggling everyday with trying to move on with my life. Yet I can't. I feel so awful for telling. My little sisters had to spend a month with people they didn't know. They were separated and alone for a whole month. Those little girls lost a month of there lives being scared and wanting their mommy. It hurts me so bad that they had to go through that and I hope one day they will understand I was only protecting them.

I know if I hadn't told it's hard to tell what would have happened to me or too the girls. I made the decisions I did because no one should ever have to go through what I did. I only hope this helps people find the courage to speak up because yes it will be a rough road but things will get better in time.

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Child Abuse Story - Hoshimi's Mother's Story

by Sakura M
(Location Undisclosed)

I just want to say thank you for having this site so that people could share their abuse and have your advice and giving some hope to those who are suffering with abuse. This is a bit of a version of Hoshimi's mother's side of the story of why she abused her own daughter and i got this story from the social worker that was taking Hoshimi from home to home to see if she can be taken care of since her true mother was busying being in jail. So this is Hoshimi's mother's story of her life and how she had to give up her daughter.

Annie came from a broken home, so she was the only child in the family but not all things were like very happy in her household.
Her father was barely home he didn't want to start a family, and her mother only cared about her husband and her appearance. As a result, they barely paid Annie much attention thus having Annie do wild things in her life to gain their attention to her. The household was cold since both parents never paid any attention to her. But it wasn't their fault both her parents were young her mother was 18 when she was pregnant with her and her father was 17 at the time.

Thus in her own life at age 10 she started to do rash things to gain her parent's attention, she skipped school at times but got caught by police that they drag her to school, did drugs, smoke, drank alcohol, having sex with boys not her age, partying hard, selling her own body for money, and fall into a wrong crowd so that she would get the attention of her parents. She was sort of a rebel, but she did all of this so she could gain the attention from her parents so that she could be loved by them.

Around when she was 15 years old she had unprotected sex with a 16 year old, she gotten pregnant by then which she did/didn't want the did part was that she wanted to have her parents love her. When she told them that she was pregnant she got kicked out of the household with her belongings even having her own parents disowning her and not having her as their own daughter.

She had to live in a rent apartment so that she could just stay there. She bought everything for the baby, but she had troubles at times. She craved the drugs, alcohol, partying hard and smoking, that was a price she had to pay.

Annie then gave birth to a baby girl at the hospital but secretly didn't want to pay the huge hospital bill so she snuck out of the hospital with her baby girl so that she could take care of her own daughter in her way. But being a single mother with no father was tough.

When her daughter was growing up, she left the household and left her own daughter alone by herself with no nanny. She always leaves the household so that she could sell her body for money to buy drugs often having sex with the drug dealers so she could have the drugs even to pay the rent which was always 10 or 20 months over due. At times when she was caught by police she stayed in jail for about 5 or 3 days having her daughter to suffer with diaper rashes.

But when she comes home she hits her own daughter when she was just a toddler. This kept going until that day.

Her daughter was a child, when her mother came with her buddies to smoke heroine before they could get a puff in police came barging in due to the landlord complaining about her not paying rent. Once they arrested her they noticed her daughter (Hoshimi) sense came into their heads.

They took a look at Annie's record saw how many times she's been arrested and were shocked to see that hoshimi's mother left the girl home all by herself with no one to take care of her.

Annie had been in jail, while her daughter hoshimi had to find some homes. Most often when her mother comes out of jail she promises to see her daughter but that wish was not often fulfilled by her since she just cares about herself turning into her own mother/father.

That is when Hoshimi landed in my care, thus having her mother to give up on seeing her own daughter and giving up her parental rights on her own daughter so that she could just have her own way in life.

So that's Hoshimi's mother's story Darlene, sorry I didn't put it all in my story and hoshimi's no much room.

Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed154

by Don't want people to know
(USA)

Well I get 'hit for things like not praying,not ORGANIZING my closet and stuff simple stuff and I go to a class and when you don't look at your religion book or hold it the right way or sit the right was they hit you brutely and when I tell my parents about this they sternly say it's good for you so I just mostly sit in the back of the class and try not to get noticed its not like I have a problem with reading and sitting and looking and repeating the same verses over again for four hours, well I do its not my biggest problem the problem is why I do it I do it it's because we have to memorize the verses like pages and page and we only have a few hours or some people like me just can't seem to memorize it and well if I didn't all hell would break lose I would get beatings consistently and get yelled at and I already have enough of that at home so I fake tell them that I pass so I would survive for the day I've been doing that do a long time and still to this day I'm doing it ...I really want to try to learn and all but I have school too and right after school I have that class and my parents won't barely let me do homework they say go memorize and then do your homework and my dad stays till 7:00 usually and I just try to avoid him in the mornings I go right to school and afterwords to religion class and my mom is a stay at home mom with 4 other kids so I don't think SHE acnologise my feelings much I barely get to go out the only way I can is to beg for a month and all I have to do is plaster a fake smile on my face even when I'm crying on the inside someday I want to meet a guy who changes my life forever with a simple smile and I hope one day I could smile a real smile for once too but too bad it's against my religion and most of the time I just want to go and tell my mom 'hey parents I'm sick of my life and lead them to my small room I share with my brother and say do you see all of the tally marks that's about how many times I wanted to kill myself' I wish I had real friends ...enough of that the reason I'm finally letting this out is because my mom just asked me if her 'small hits that leave marks are considered abuse and whether if someone asked me I would say I get abused I said yes and she then got mad at Me I went and got my tablet and ran upstairs because I was furious how dare SHE say that I was lieing and that wasnt the first time this week she said that bulls**t my dad told me I could no longer read books and I wasnt allowed and that I was only allowed to read religious books why don't they get this I will never be the religious child and smart child they want me to be I would runaway but I don't know anyone close here and I have nowhere to go but I will move out I'm still living this hell unlike other people on this site

Repeated the Abuse

by Kayla A
(Missouri, USA)

When I was young all I can remember was the smell of sex. Everyday I woke up I smelled sex. I smelled it at school, with friends, and even when I was smelling something totally different. It all started when I was 8 years old. I was skinny but had muscles. I was active and had many friends. When I used to visit my father, the first start out was making me read painful definitions I didn't know. He would make me get a dictionary and search out words like Pain, Orgasm, Vagina, Porn, Savage, Divide, Tear, Rip. Words that made me feel cold and confused. I would do this for 4 hours every 2 weeks. I laugh the first time but cried as time went on. Between those 2 weeks. I would have to perform an act that made me sick. He would tell me to strip my clothes until I was naked. Getting out a pack of frozen ice, he would tell me to hold the ice firm on my private for 2 minutes and repeat. I wept until I was numb. As this was happening, once I came back over to my mothers, I would repeat the acts that my father did, to my sisters and brothers. They were ages 3-7.
As times that I was back with my father the acts became more violent. He would tell me to get into the bathtub, and pour boiling water on top of my neck down to my body. As I screamed, he punched by stomach multiple times with a hammer. Feeling these acts done to me, I would try to sneak out at night running down the street screaming and knocking on everyone's doors saying help. Eventually he would just say I had a case of Parkinson's disease and brain damaged as an orphan. (So stupid).
As time went on. Intercourse began. Not only with him but with different men and objects. He would sex me with knives, hammers, bats, and candy. And lubricate me with detergent supplements. I would burn and try to kill him but that wasn't working.
My father had pals who were in a gang back then. He then bright me to this gang at age 10 and continued acts. He and his friends would hold my face. Making me watch them decapitate animals and cook them. Then pour the blood and intestine over my face and body. He would say he was getting me prepared for the One World Government, and that I needed to Be a complete female soldier. I would cry so nonstop that the skin on my eyes and cheeks would blister and turn pale.
At the age of 11 I raped my sister. At the same week I forced my brother to swallow blood, eat frogs, and things, and sexualize himself. While I was doing this, I would make myself orgasm in front of them. Making them visualize the feeling of sex.
Time went on as my father moved to a different state. As he married another woman and did the same acts to her girl and stopped at age 11.
My mother took me to different hospitals to see what was wrong with my mind and body. But I would paint myself physically and mentally that the doctors said that nothing was wrong.
I eventually got help for myself at a church and God saved my life.
I am now a teenager with my mom, praying and ministering about abuse and truth. Helping school students and so on.
Thank you.

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The Mental Abuse Continues

by Belinda K
(England)

I'm 47 and still dealing with my fathers mental abuse: 
I was the middle child in my family my younger sister was spoilt by my mum and dad and my eldest sister was spoilt by my grandparents, i dont know why but i always felt that no one gave a crap about me and still to this day i get treated the same. I would come home from school with homework and get stuck on certain things so i asked my dad he would explain but i could not understand what he meant the next thing he was raising his voice shouting oh why are you so thick i have just explained this to you then he would hit me at the back of the head really hard and make me cry. my dad and mum never went to my parents evening at school until the last year was leaving i turned up with my glasses on we sat down in front of the teacher and he said why i did not know you wore glasses my dad looked at me and i knew i was in deep trouble when we got out side he dragged me home with my hair and my feet hardly touching the ground i could not stop crying. this was a small idea of what i went through. I remember when i was very young dad came home from the pub after work and because something was not right with his supper he would slap my mum and physically beat her and make her cry and we would hear this near enough 3 or 4 times a week. This went on for quiet a few years and i sweared that when he died i would dance on his grave for the way he still makes me feel. One thing i always say to my daughter that my dad never said to me and thats if she does something that i do not agree with i would always say to her why i am saying no and explain the reasons then she understands i just rebelled all my teenage years because the mental abuse will never leave me it will always be at the back of my mind.

My relationships never lasted because i would not allow them to speak to me like my father did and walls would be built up the more we argued. so now im alone with my kids and animals as these i can trust and that makes life a little better to handle. The only way now to deal with this is to get them out of my life and stay away as my father will not be able to talk to me like i am 4 again and show me up in front of people and slag me off as i am worth more than that. i have my pride and he will never take that away from me.

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Targeted by Mother's Husband

by Kelli
(North Carolina, USA)

My earliest childhood memory is of standing in the hallway of our small country house crying as the man I knew then as Daddy sat on my 8 month pregnant, 21 year old mother and repeatedly punched her in the face. I was nearly 3, my sister was 2, and Mom was expecting our brother. As far as I can recall, that husband (not my father) never directly abused us...the next husband is an entirely different matter.

He decided when he married my mother when I was 6 that he did not like me. It's a terrible thing to be forced to watch the other kids in the family play and to not be allowed to join in. I didn't understand it and remember clearly how I cried because he was being mean to me. It only became worse as I got older. There was never any concern or caring for me from him. My siblings were not treated that way and were even encouraged to join in his sick game of ostracizing and ridiculing me. The more I tried to please, the more he abused me. My friends were not allowed to visit, all the household chores became my responsibility at an early age. I was not allowed to just play and be a kid....if found NOT doing a chore, I was whipped with a belt and assigned additional chores. The only pleasure I found was in reading and I read anything that I could get my hands on. That is until he noticed that I liked reading and he forbid me to have any books. While he never sexually abused me, he meted out beatings with belts, boards, fists, without discretion. There was a period of my life as an early teenager that I never wore shorts or skirts because of raised purple belt marks that wrapped around my leg and even left the imprint of the holes in the belt. What a sick bastard!

This abuse continued until I was 16 and I fought back...violently. One day I had had enough and fought him like a full grown man instead of a girl. That was the last time he raised his hand or voice to me because I promised him I would kill him in his sleep if he ever put his hands on me again.

Where was my mother when all of this was going on? She was there... co-dependent, childish, and totally negligent mother. She didn't dare rock the boat...not because she was afraid of him, but because she "loved" him and it was simpler to sacrifice a child than to try to make a life on her own.

I'm angry about this even at age 52. I will never understand the rationale that allows a parent to condone such abuse of a child. My mother had the audacity to claim that she did the best she could. I told her to save that story for people that didn't live with them because she didn't even ALMOST do the best she could.

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System Encourages Abuse

by Loving Father
(Indiana, USA)

A Story of a Child Denied of a Mothers Love: 
How sad, that such injustice is practiced in the Judicial System. It is with overwhelming sadness, that the Court has ruled that it is legal, at least acceptable, for children to be beaten with a studded belt, cursed like animals, smacked in the face, struck in the back of the head for no good reason, kicked and even driven down the highway while clinging to the hood of a van, blowing through a stop sign, while screaming for his mother to stop, which instead of stopping, she makes a sharp turn, throwing him off on to the road, injuring his back and then driving away, while he lies on the road.

On several occasions in the middle of the night, on school nights, a mother, while even knowingly being recorded, flips over beds and dumps out dresser drawers, because her children didn't ask if they could rearrange their rooms. She then forced the children to clean up the mess that she had made, before allowing them to go back to bed, on a school night.

The children's personal items were stolen by their mother, often taken from their rooms while they were sleeping, then they were punished for misplacing those very same items that she had stole. Months later those same items would be found in her closets or in the attic or basement. Stealing and shutting off phone communication to their father, which the mother was found guilty of contempt of court for disobeying an order to cease withholding the children from their father. Seldom did the mother ever allow the children to see the father even with court ordered visitation; making excuses of games, or false emergencies to ensure the children would not be able to see him.

After more than three years of abuse and five months of agony, as well as going through many court hearings, with the children required to testify against their mother on their own behalf, not to mention, more than $15,000 later in court and lawyer fees and travel expenses, the mother admitted to all of the abuse during several hearings, the court has failed these young teenagers. The numerous calls to CPS, where they admitted to telling the children, "I will not believe a word you say," and giving the mother a weeks notice, before they would come to the house to investigate allegations of abuse and inadequate food. The police have also failed them. In each report, of which there were many, the police would only scold the children and make excuses, that if they would mind their mother, she wouldn't get to the point of the constant beatings and to remind them they are not allowed to leave under any circumstances, without being reported as a runaway. This was only an attempt to scare the children and a constant reminder that the children had no one to turn to, except for one lonely arresting officer. God bless him for trying to help.

Now let it be read, that the court finds it to be in the best interest and the wishes of the child, to be awarded to his mother, where they will begin counseling in hopes that the mother can show love and respect for her child. The same child, who was removed from the home May 7, 2014. The same home where he has no family other than his abusive mother and soon to be 18 year old brother, who may be leaving soon after graduation in the following months. His brother is also the only local connection he had that would protect him throughout his times of abuse.

The child has been placed in the custody of his mother, under the motion that he missed his friends and that he has always lived in that town and wants to continue at his former school. The child's only safe plan, as stated by the Judge, is to walk away and ignore his mother, which in the past has proven impossible. They both agree that they have a poor relationship and walking away has never worked before.

This child has now been caused to leave a safe home in a quiet town where he lived with his father and stepmother, loving grandmother, grandfather, three uncles, four aunts, two cousins, and a nice middle school with a wonderful wrestling club that he very much enjoyed, with only his clothes. He chose to not take any of his entertainment items that he so enjoys, because he, at 14 years of age, expected that the items will be stolen from him, by his mother, and that he may never see his possessions again, or that she may throw them down and stomp them in front if him, as she has done in the past.

This woman continues to beat the system, in a little one horse town, which does not have any regard for a child’s safety or best interest.

At one time, a guardian ad litem was denied, The judge decided that those children could not have their own advocate.

The prosecutor was forced to dismiss the multiple criminal charges against the mother, based on the court’s decision to put the child back into the mother's home, where the children will continue to live the real life game of "Mommie Dearest". This woman will strike again. She always does. I can now only pray for the safety of the children. Remember that your father and your family love you very much.

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The Watches Are Mine

by Ryan
(Ireland)

I'm not sure if I'm in the right place. But I feel so scared and helpless, I don't want to wake up in the morning and I don't enjoy half the things I used to. This just happened, and I can't make myself calm down to write clearly, sorry.

I saw the old pocket watches laying on the table, and I remembered something I hadn't thought of in a long time. My dad told me when he died I could have his watches. He's been dead for years now.

The first thing my sister said when she saw me looking at them was "They're mine", in the spiteful voice she always uses, and she glared at me in the way she always does that makes me want to fall off the face of the earth and never fall back.

I sat there for a little while and listened to my mom as she narrated her picking out the still working ones. When I said "Dad said I could have them", my sister glared at me again, like I had just said the stupidest, most offensive thing.

She berated me until I cried, which took very little. She's been here for a day already (she moved out recently and comes back when she wants money) and my will to put up with anything is broken. She then started mocking me for crying, "if you're going to winge do it where I don't have to look at you", I realized how much her Limerick accent annoyed me. And I did what she said. I couldn't handle how she looked at me.

My mom was shouting after me, as if I had just committed some unspeakable crime against my sister. Later she came back with two watches, a broken one and a small one my sister didn't want.
I was furious, about as furious as I could get at least, I looked more sad than anything. She kept trying to give me the watches but no, they're my sisters. This is her bloody house. My mom refused to believe anything I quoted from my sister, even though she was sitting right there. I kept trying to get her to take them back but she just got mad at me.

When she left I put them on the livingroom table and I don't know what my sister heard but she thought I threw them, and she ran into my room, and I told her over and over I didn't throw them but she punched me and shoved my head into the wall anyway, and then when she left my mom came in and shouted at me "This is all your fault you b***h". And now I can hear them laughing together in the kitchen.

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Child Abuse Story From Shannon

by Shannon
(Ohio, USA)

That was gross: 
I was just bout 6 and were I grew up u could leave ur door unlocked we always walked up to the store at 6 yrs old and there was an old guy that live across from the store and he sold bikes my dad had bought a few from him.well one day he stopped me and ask if I could help him do something and we trusted the old guy I said sure well wen I walked in this house was very very nasty . I said wat do u need he said could u type on this old typewriter wat im saying I said ok I started typing all the sudden I felt his hand start up my skirt and up my painties and I said I have to go home he gragged me a drug me in his bedroom and threw me on the bed and started pulling my panties off I tried fighting him but I was 6 yr s old he did oarl sex to me and forced his self on me inside me and I tried screaming he would cover my mouth and and tell me how much he loved me and and he has the first day he has saw me . he said ur mine and ur never going home I stayed in that room with this nasty man rapeing me over and over again seemed days but it was 6 hrs .I got out and I never told anyone until now but my family has done things to me also and I just want every one to no always tell no matter wat. thank you

Child Abuse Story From Stenna

by Stenna
(India)

The neighbour: 
I am very happy that I am able to share this story to you guys. I am going to tell my own experience which has been haunting me for so many years.

This took place 7 years back. I and my family used to stay in a different place. My parents used to go to their work and I would be alone in my home.

That time I used to stay in a rented house. The house owner had two sons and younger one of them used to go to college.

At first he used to talk to me very friendly. He became close to me. One day he had called me but i didn't hear it. That evening when my parents weren't there he came to my house and asked why I didn't talk to him when he called me.

Suddenly he locked the door and removed his dress and mine. I didn't know what he was doing. Then he took me to the bed did something which I can't tell!!!! Then he wore his dress and said to me nothing just happened and if someone asks tell we were watching some video.

Later he used to come when my parents were out and touch my private parts. I was very young that I didn't realise what was happening to me.

Soon I moved out of that place because my dad got a transfer. Later i realised what had happened to me and every day I keep thinking about this. Now I am relieved.

Child Abuse Story from Memorie

by Memorie
(Location Undisclosed)

One day my father broke my hand. I went to school for three days with my hand disfigured, purple and swollen. When my mother finally took me to the hospital, we lied together that I had fractured it myself.

I have been beaten, slapped, locked out of the house, had heavy objects thrown at my head, "accidentally" gashed across my forehead with a key, and had my head slammed into the handle of a chair until my lips bled. That last "punishment" was for not being able to sleep at night.

I would also be beaten and given the cold shoulder for other things that now seem absurd – although I still feel as though they made a bad person - such as falling sick because of my own stupidity (granted, I played in the rain or licked sugar off my fingers) or fighting with my sister.

My mother once set a piece of paper on fire and threw it at my feet (I managed to avoid it) telling me that she did not care if the house burnt down.

Another time, as a punishment, she put my hands on a chopping board, held a butcher knife over them and asked me which finger I wanted chopped off first. I made a practical decision: to start with the little finger on my left (non-writing) hand. Fortunately this did not happen but it was always a threat.

When I was beaten it was usually on areas of my body that nobody would see, or I would be told to wear long pants and sleeves to hide the bruises and welts. If I cried in pain she would ask "Aren't you ashamed to be screaming so that all the neighbors know you are getting punished?" Or "If you want to cry, I will give you something to cry about." When she bathed me she would examine the welts - it was humiliating.

I always tried to protect my sister from getting the same treatment by directly speaking up for her or being provocative so that the rage would turn to me. I never thought about calling CPS or the cops because those were the places my sister and I were told we would be sent for being bad children (her to a foster home, me to prison.)

I was also forbidden from eating anything in the home without permission and taunted over meals for "overeating" and making myself fat.

When I was an infant my mother threw me for crying. Nobody knew any of this, and still nobody really knows. My mother denies ever having spoken a harsh word to me.

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Confused Anguish

by Lyes
(California, USA)

Hi I don't know where to start my last entry involved my first love. I guess my second is going to be his best friend. when I first met him he had an in your face attitude, a tough as nail fasad as they say. however once u got to know him and his lifestyle you understood why. It took a long time before I understood everything, his parents didn't want him after the age of 5 (drugs were more important). His grandparents were too old to care for him and put him up for adoption, luckily his aunt found him and took him in. It was good until she got married, then all hell broke loose. When he told me about how the abuse started verbally and emotionally, the name calling, overbearing chores, anything he could think of to make him cry, I was dumbfounded. I was more baffled at the fact that as the "father" was trying to console him he would start to fondle him. Within a few years he actually raped him for his 10th birthday. He told me it went on until he got bigger than him and was able to out maneuver and overpower him to stop, but that was when the physical abuse started. His aunt had no idea she was always working and he worked odd jobs here and there so he was always home. He would find any reason to beat him, bad marked on his school work, being 5 mins late afterschool, not doing a chore good enough. He would always tell the mom that he was becoming a defiant boy and that he need to get discipline or that he already discipline him and he was going to stay on punishment. B--- told me he'd used the punishment as an excuse to try to seduce him as if to bargain or if he refused he'd verbally attacked him with threats how, where, and why he would kill him if he'd mentioned it to anyone and it worked for a while. My boyfriend never told me what was going on, I remember him telling me, if it bugs u that much you should ask him. I liked the fact that they believe in each other privacy because I knew what was going on in my boyfriend's home and that broke my heart. To hear that B--- was in a more horrid position I didn't even want to ask, but life found it's way to me to ask. He needed a friend to lean on and in order to do so I had to ask, and I was so navies back then he was surprised that my boyfriend, his best friend didn't tell me anything which made it harder for him to confide in me, but he had no choice. That night once he took off his shirt he looked like he was beaten pretty bad welts everywhere it was the first time I've ever seen him like that. I wish I could describe what I see in my head I wish I can articulate my emotion about all this but I just cant. I wrote in hopes that maybe I'd be able to let go as I did with N--- but this is as far as I can speak without going into a dark place. thanks for listening.

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Mother Dearest Poem

by Sammy M
(Maine, USA)

Mother Dearest ...

It was you that taught me about fear ,
You made cringe whenever you came near ...
I lived a life that was full of fright ,
Cause you hit me every night ...

I came to you wanting love ,
But all you did was give me a shove ...
You never had a nice thing to say ,
You put me down every day ...

When you hit me so hard I got a black eye ,
You laughed at me and watched me cry ...
You gave me bruises to the bone ,
And threatened me if I made it known ...

All my friends were treated good ,
And given the love a parent should ...
I always wished I had another ,
Sadly though you are my Mother ...

Its hard to learn to let that go ,
So I wrote you this to let you know ...
I will never forget the things you did ,
Or how much you enjoyed hurting a kid ...

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Too Young to Know

by Shannon
(England )

Im 16 now, but when i was 4 my mum got with a nasty, horrible man who has ruined my life. My dad's been in and out of my life, so it was a new thing having a man around the house. i liked it, felt like i was a part of a real family. when i was 6 mum had started evening college courses. she'd leave me with him. as soon as she left he'd force me to take my clothes off. i did as he said, because no matter how stupid as it sounds i didnt know it was wrong at 6. he eventually started touching me. and forcing me to touch him. if i didnt he'd threaten to kill me and my mum, and hit me. again i didnt know much at that age, all i did know is my mum is my world no matter what i needed to protect her. He'd forced me to watch hundreds of porn movies and make me reenact them with him. it was so painful, this went on for 3 years, 3 days a week. and any time we was alone. the hitting, touching, forcing an 8 year old to then have sex with you is so disturbing but i couldnt tell anybody. who would believe me he'd say. that my mum would hate me if i told her. mum eventually broke up with him for different reasons and its not until 2 years later i had to tell her, i wasnt eating, i was angry at everybody and me and my mum got into an argument because of it and thats when it kind off came out. she looked at me in horror and shut down, she couldnt stop crying. straight away all my family was at my house along with the police. went through so many police interviews, but they said theres no evidence so i'll have to get over it. the police actually said that, i was in such shock. i was so hurt. a year had flown by 'trying to get over it' we had moved out of that house for a fresh start and mum's current boyfriend was beating her so it was just me her and my baby sister in this beautiful new house. a couple months later, him the guy that abused me was at my door. mum went after him and i had a panic attack, he tried to run her over, i couldnt breathe. from that night that's when the self harm started, 4 years later im still self harming, been back to the police to prosecute him myself now i am 16, again i got turned away. i attend counceling that has helped a lot, self harming has calmed down, but i cant cope. he's out there hurting little girls, the guilt i have for that makes me hate myself. He's won. no matter what anybody says i'm hurting myself while he doesnt care for what he's done, i'm scared to be in the same room as a man. my sister is now the same age as i was when it happened, i look at her and she's so young and innocent. it kills me. i havent got justice, and never will, he's a clever man, he stole my childhood, i will never trust a man again.

Shannon

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My Mother's Brother

by Teressa
(Florida, USA)

I am 45 years old and still dealing (or not) with the molestation that took place when I was a young girl. I do not remember the first time, and I am almost positive that there were other times I am blocking out (I will explain that later).

I am not sure but I think it started around the time when I was eight years old. I do remember one time waking up and my uncle was in bed with me. That is all I remember about that particular day. I remember the abuse taking place in my home when there were no other adults there.

Throughout my life I can remember my parents "helping" my uncle and his family out. Often times that meant they would come to stay with us in our two bedroom home. I do not have a first recollection of the abuse, but I do remember certain times and events that happened. He always asked "permission" and said we could stop if I wanted to. I still do not understand why I did not stop him.?? I remember him in the bathroom having me perform masturbation on him and him touching me in my genitals by rubbing his penis on them. He would always capitalize on the opportunity to get me alone away from other adults, even when it meant he had to bring his own children. He would volunteer to take us kids to the park or swimming. Once we got there he would send the boys and their sister in another direction and molest me in the park or in the water. One time in the bathroom at the park, he had me masturbate him until he ejaculated. I was completely disgusted and did not know what to do with the fluid on my hands, so I wiped it on my clothes. He actually admonished me for doing that. There was one occasion that he attempted to molest my best friend. I STOPPED HIM!! That incident would later prove important.

I eventually learned how to get out of going with him, or I made sure not to be alone with him.

Fast-forward about eight years or so to his death. I was 16 and did not want to go to his funeral. I had not told anyone of my family so they did not understand, but did not pressure me. Then it was said that my cousin (his daughter) said that he molested her. It was also said that she was lying. I knew I had to tell at that point. Of course the elders (not my parents) that had called his daughter a liar wanted proof of what I was saying. My best friend was called and she gave witness to what he had done to me and attempted to do to her.

Before he died, he called me up on the phone one day out of the blue and said, "Hey I didn't hurt you did I? I was just having fun".

Well I am still dealing with the things he did to me. The things I do not remember are the hardest to deal with. When my husband wakes me up for sex I do not enjoy it at all. As a matter of fact, when I am trying to go to sleep, I do not want to be touched. If he does put a hand on me just to be touching me, he cannot move even a finger. If he does I cannot go to sleep and the feeling it gives me makes me want to sleep somewhere else. So the perplexing thing for me is the same touches that make me want to jump out of my skin in the morning or daytime hours, feel really good at night. I have tried to step outside of my comfort zone for him. My mother was very conservative, so I was taught that sex was nasty. So not only am I dealing with the abuse, but I am very shy about sex to compound the situation. I still remember my uncle's wet sloppy kisses with his untrimmed mustache. I like my husband with a mustache and do not ask him to shave it off. I also do not want to hurt him about it. I know that he is not the one who abused me, but it is the physical feeling of it that gets to me. I do ask him to please trim it, but he does not always honor my request.

So I also have memory gaps. Up until I was about 13 years old, I cannot remember getting into a bathtub or shower. I assure you I was always clean, I just do not remember getting that way. I can remember other times and events perfectly fine during that time frame, just not showering. I know that I will stand up for other people, but let myself be stepped on to some extent. I do have my limits. So I later found out that this uncle of mine molested his sister. I do not want to think about the number of lives he damaged. I have never been to counseling with this issue and am not sure it would help. I just wanted to share my story. All the insight in the world will not change what happened.

I did realize however why I never told. I loved my mother very much and I knew she loved her brother. I also knew without a shadow of a doubt that my daddy would have killed him; then where would I be.

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Abused By Mother

by Timothy
(Illinois, USA)

I had just turned 12, when my mother told me I had to start doing my duties as man of the house. My main duties as man of the house were taking care of my mother's every sexual, emotional, and physical need. My secondary duties were cooking every meal and keeping the house clean for my mother. If I refused to do any of my duties or if I didn't do them just the way she wanted me to do them. I would be yelled at or slapped or punched or beaten by her. The abuse continued until I was 16 when finally got the courage tell one of my school teachers what was happening at home. I got my mother sent to prison for what she did. I'm 21 now, and I still feel anger at my mother for what she did to me. I also feel ashamed that I let her abuse me for as long as she did. I also still wonder if there was anything I could have done to stop her from abusing me in the first place.

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Abused By My Dad

by Jenna
(USA)

I am 13 years old. I dont know who to talk to.my dad hurts me. My mommy died when I was 6. My dad calls me his woman. I have to sleep with him every night. He hurts me. He rubs me and has me touch him. Then he puts it inside of me. I feel bad because I let him do it to me. I dont know what to do. He wont let me go anywhere. I am home schooled by him. If I dont make good grades or have trouble with my math he hurts me. Sometimes he puts sticks in me. He says that will make me do better. I dont want to be here anymore. I cant tell anyone. I am scared no one Will believe me and that something bad will happen. I don't have any friends to talk to. When he leaves the house he locks me in the bathroom sometimes. I am very scared. I dont want to be hurt anymore. I want to go to heaven to see my mom.

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Robbed of Innocence

by Neil
(England)

As a child, a young boy, I was the victim of three incidents of abuse that I can remember. Two were 'one-off' incidents, the third took place over a period of two years.

I have often wondered whether I 'invited' such incidents as I was quite an innocent, 'angelic' looking boy, active but reflective and a bit of a dreamer.

The first incident that I recall was when I was about five or six. I was playing just outside of my grandmother's house on a large boulder on the corner of the street. I often played on the boulder. The next thing I clearly remember was being in a room, lying on the floor with a man, who had his trousers down by his ankles, still with his shoes on. I can't remember what state I was in, or what exactly he was doing. I can't remember being frightened or anxious, but of course, I could have been in grave danger. I didn't say anything to anyone. I don't know why. Do we really know what should or should not be happening at that age?

The second incident was bizarre, happening not long after and it may have been the same man. I was at primary school. I was walking from school to home. I was given a lift by a man in a car who drove me out of our area to a field with a dirt track running up it. The only thing I clearly remember is the man making a small hole in the dirt track and defecating into it. I don't know what else happened but that is all I recall. The odd thing about it is that it must have made a deep impression on me because I began to play-act this at my grandmother's house by defecating a few times on the carpet outside the toilet rather than in the toilet. I cleaned it up as best I could and I don't think anyone knew. But that might not be the case.

The third incident was at boarding school. I was about nine and came to the attention of a house-master. Around bedtime he would send a couple of the other boys in my dormitory on false errands while he played with my penis, working it to an erection. When he heard one of the boys coming back, he would pull the hole in my pyjama bottoms over my erection and usher me into the bed.

As I was quite sporty, I was in one of the teams for cricket and he used to come to my classroom and ask if it was alright for me to leave class and help him set out the pitch and equipment for a school match, which seemed to happen a couple of times every week. Permission was always given. I would end up well away from the school in the cricket pavilion, him sat in one of the changing rooms with me laying across his knee, genitals exposed. He would be masturbating me with his thumb and two fingers. I can see now the hair on his fingers. I felt such an intense feeling of both pain and pleasure as I had, I realised much later, a dry orgasm. They were so intense and pleasurable that I began to experiment with them on myself in the boy's toilets. Somehow I must have sensed that something was not right about this, but I didn't tell anyone until much later - two years later, and peculiarly, I remember feeling sorry for him. I must have picked up his need to do this and his being more relaxed afterwards.

I think these incidents, plus the fact that I didn't have any sisters and went to a boys boarding school until I was eighteen contributed towards me to internalising my sexual awareness and needs, to the point that masturbation and accompanying fantasies became the focal aspects of my sexual expression. Normal relationship discovery and attachment of the opposite sex didn't figure. I have found it difficult to be a man around men and I am infatuated by women. I have always struggled to keep friends.

Life has been a continual struggle of trying to come to terms with who I am, how I feel, what I think, how I act. A mess. Throughout my life, I have flitted between either accepting who I am and be comfortable being a bit of a misfit or trying to overcome the excesses and trying to be 'normal'.

It's been an on-going struggle with no resolution as yet.

Abuse takes away the personhood of the young person. It doesn't scar them. That is too straight-forward. A tree can be scarred and always retain the scar in it's bark, but it remains a tree and its leaf, blossom and fruit will be the leaf, blossom and fruit of its type. Child abuse robs the person of their innocence, their trust, their openness. They become a shell of their true self and the rest of their life is spent trying to fill that void, often in ways that paradoxically injure them even further.

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Molested for 8 Years

by David
(Virginia, USA)

I'll never forget the first time I was fondled. I was an 8 year old boy and my family was in church. My grandpa was a Bishop, my mother was the choir director, and my dad was the musician. I had become close to a guy who was about 18 at the time and I had considered him to be my "big brother" because I didn't have a real one. I was spending the night with him as usual and I sleep in the same bed with him. I remember going to sleep and then waking up with my pants partially down and him rubbing himself against my butt. I was frozen and didn't want to move. I didn't know what to do. I loved him to death and thought the world of him. I never hand anal with him but he did make me suck him and occasionally when I was at church and had to pee he would be the one to take me to the bathroom and he would play with my penis while I sat on his penis naked. This continued for about a 1year or 2 and was only stopped because he accidently left a hickey on my neck one day and my parents saw it. They eventually dropped out of the church because of it and how the situation was handled and have never spoken of the incident since.

However, that was not the last time I would be molested. The second and third time was by my older male cousins on my dad's side. The first was about 2 years older than me which lasted for about 8 years and also was the first time I was penetrated. his older brother did the same for about half that time. During the same timeframe I was also being molested by my older male cousin on my mom's side for around 6 of that 8 years. I was about 16 when it all ended only because they all moved away and I would isolate myself more so that they could not come over. I don't know what I did to invite them but I..... I wish I did so that I could have prevented it. Maybe I had grown accustomed to it and it made it not so bad anymore.

Many times I would just let them do whatever they were doing and just wait until they were finished then I would clean up and go to sleep. They never showed any signs of compassion or love for me when they were doing it. It felt as if they were strangers that didn't care if I didn't want to do it or if I even moved. Just as long as they finished. I would try to use my mouth most of the time because I hated it when they used my butt. I would cry afterwards sometimes while I was in the shower because of the thoughts of sexual acts that were going through my head every day. I would hate myself because I would still get hard even though I didn't want to. I would pray and ask God for forgiveness and to cleanse me.

Since then I have had thoughts of suicide, running away, thinking about how I'm going to hell because of what I allowed to happen. I wish I would have told someone but I didn't feel that they would believe me and if they did I didn't want my cousins to get in trouble or me. I've tried to kill myself a few times from the ages of 12-16 by cutting my wrists with razor blades and knives but could never bring myself to go deep enough. I started hanging with some guys that smoked pot and drank just so I could erase or rather ease the thoughts and to take my mind off of it. I was around 14 when that started. My parents didn't seem to care where I stayed at because they had given up on God and the church so they let me do basically anything I wanted. Even though all I wanted was to die.

I'm now 20 years old and have joined the United States Marine Corps. I am a student at a great University and still I feel empty. I still think about those days and every time I see my cousins I don't hate them. I want to but I don't. I have gay thoughts and often masturbate to gay porn and then hate myself afterwards every time. I have my good days and my bad days and my extremely terrible days but life goes on. I have not given up on my faith in God and everyday try to make it right. I am still confused on my sexuality because I find females attractive and have had many girlfriends and have had sex. Yet, I get off on gay porn. I want to beat whatever this is. I only wish it was easier.

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Damaged By Spanking

by Minnie
(Texas, USA)

I don't really remember when the spankings started, they were a part of my life for so long. My mother rarely spanked, only when my father wasn't around. He often went away for work. She never gave my brother or I full blown spankings, just a couple smacks. My father was worse.
I was five the first time he beat me with a belt. Most of these spankings looked the same. He'd be furious beyond control, grabbing me and throwing against his bed. He'd take off his belt and start whipping, while I was screaming bloody murder. When he figured I'd had enough he'd yell for me to go back to my room. Or, if it happened in my room, he'd just leave.
I remember him coming by after one of these sessions, when I was still crying two hours later. He said he was sorry, but that he had to do it. That I would thank him one day. Yeah right.
I'm still bitter, though he hasn't hit me in over ten years. The last time he tried, I vowed to call the cops.
Still, every once in a while I can't sleep. I'm haunted. I'm damaged... My parents verbal abuse drove me to cutting and a suicide attempt. The shrinks in the hospital didn't find anything wrong with me. Guess I wasn't dramatic enough.
I hope getting this out will help... I'm tired of feeling numb, feeling like I'm not human enough to be treated well... I want to fight, but it feels like it's too late.
At least I survived.
I vow to never hit my children in anger. Never.

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Millionaire Dad Abuser

by Rose
(Kamloops, B.C. Canada )

This is not all of what he has done... It just touches the surface.

My father started abusing me mentally and physically. My therapist said sexually as he would hold me down and salivate on his finger and swirl them in my mouth and suffocate me too (the same stuff he did to my mother while they were having sex)... I had childhood asthma so it was very hard when I had asthma attacks and he would come in my room and stuff dirty socks in my mouth. I was 8. He would beat me regularly and drag me around by my hair.

I had a severe sunburn, my whole face was blistered and he grabbed my face and shock it and tore it off? My mom didn't call the ambulance because she didn't want him to go to jail. I had the scars for years.

He told me every day how worthless and what a loser I was when I was actually very smart... This lead to being bullied at school later in life from only knowing how to be a victim.

He told me I was disgusting and wouldn't let me eat at the table... I'm actually fairly attractive.

He started dating a new woman who was a mail order bride from Slovakia who told my father to get rid of me and my mother and brother... he was married still to my mom. I told her what he did and she laughed in my face and said I'll never prove it ha ha ha. She said I was a negative energy that needed to go. She was living on skid row in an apartment that she got from her first marriage now she is rich. I was 17.

My father abused my mother too and kicked her in the stomach down the stairs and my brother was born with "epilepsy?" And spent year in hospital. He took an ax to her head and almost killed her. She said I witnessed it but I guess I blocked some stuff out.

Did I also mention my father is a multi-millionaire. He has a child with her now and hid the pregnancy from me. The mother slept in the same bed as the boy till he was 8 or so... I wonder why she did that? She wanted to lock him down for the money yet he cheated my mother out of separation of assets (she's sick and is now dying). She is 52. He has lavish parties and shows off all his money for his "friends". He used my name to make many of the investments to get the money while I was on welfare with my mother when we finally left him.

I had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalized at 21.

My dad's girlfriend told one of her friends to threaten me and tell me that she is mafia to scare me.

I wake up every day and obsess over what he has done and how he has gotten away with it... He said I'm jealous of him. Jealously is for rivals, not children.

I now have PTSD and am on disability. I haven't even stated parts of my life. No babies, no marriage because I spent a good 10 years trying to overdose on drugs. I did a couple times. I'm not suicidal but I am very sad and feel desperate because I want him to pay for what he did and his girlfriend too for protecting him just because she wanted money.

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My Aunt Was Complicit

by Aimee
(Nevada, USA)

I can remember the day my life changed. my dad came home drunk and beat my mom in front of my 5 sibilings and me. I called the police on my dad and he went to jail.My mom went to the hospital bacause he broke her jaw and she also had a stroke that night. my aunt who is my mom's faternal twin sister and her husband came to the house that night after the police left and told all of us sh*t is about to change and they were not kidding. my aunt and uncle came over almost everyday and thats when the control began. they would slap us across the face if we did not have a clean appearance. We had to answer everytime we needed to respond with a yes maam no maam yes sir no sir or we would be hit and punished. when this started I was 6. each visit got more extreme more abusive and extremely terrifing and this happened for 6 years.At the age of 8 my uncle began sexually abusing me.I can't stand the smell of old spice to this day, that was his cologne after shave smell disgusting,anyways I was threatened that if i told all of us would get taken away because my mom was a single parent of 6 kids on welfare and she could read very little.so i held that secret for 2 years and as the sexual abuse increased we all took a family vacation,when we returned my aunt convinced my mom that i have the most potential to become successful and she was a special ed teacher that she could provide me with so many opportunitys that when I moved in there house it was the summer before the 5th grade. My aunt was basically helping my uncle gain full time access to me. A couple of months into the fifth grade at the elementary where my aunt also taught special ed students I told my aunt what was going on even though I believe she helped and knew the entire time.she slapped me across the face and told me it was wh*res like you that are the reason I (her) dont have kids. any she went in the house told my uncle what I said and they took me to the bedroom and she sat on my leg while i lay on my stomach and they beat me with a belt slapped me in the face which seemed to last forever. I could barely move and when it was over they told me to wash my face and go to bed. I was sent home two days later. and yet nothing seemed to change because it continued for 4 more years.I was terrified to tell my mom because that was her sister and she had no control she basically reported to my aunt if we were bad, disobeyed back talked whatever and my aunt would come by the next day or save it for the weekend and beat the hell out of us.

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Child Abuse Story From Name Undisclosed153

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

Evils: 
My parents took drugs, i was young and did not understand this at the time. I grew up with this and it was normal. Everything changed when my parents separated and i lived with my mum. Without Dad there mum went of the rails, and her drug habit got worse. I think something deep inside her forbid her from giving me the drugs she was using. That did not stop her from selling me for her habit, her supplier became abusive and took it out on me. After that she always said sorry before letting some stranger into my bedroom. I was taken away from my mother when i was 14 and i have not seen either of my parents since. I know my parents loved me and that there are evils in this world that affect people. I just wished that i had had the chance to see them after i was taken into care. I blame the manufacturers and dealers, yes i sometimes blame my parents but that was the past and i have moved on.

Child Abuse Story For My Father From Eva

by Eva L
(Massachusetts, USA)

Hello I am 14. My father was sentenced to severe abuse and it has to say the least traumatized me. He is dead now...has been for a year. Before when it was just me and him I would have to wake him up so he wouldn't hurt me as he screamed in his sleep. "HELP" over and over again. When I woke him he would tell me his dreams. He told me of torment and torture and I couldn't stop him. He never remembered in the morning. What I didn't know I have pieced together since his death. Until now it has been my little secret.

When he was 1 he came here from China. His father won the money in a horse race. His mom who is know medicated for bipolar and OCD was homesick. She took it out on my dad. His dad was always working and knows less then I do about the horrors he endured. As I said his mom was homesick and didn't speak a word of English.

His mom burnt him at the stove and locked him out of the house in cold Canadian winters. She whipped him and beat him. He had the scars.

When he was eight his brother was born. His mom ran off with the new baby claiming he was better because he was born in CA. At this point thats when his dad took action. He brought her back and brought her family to the country. But it didn't help. She now was being cruel to his dad and lying compulsively to the rest of the family.

When he was 10 his grandma moved in. Thank god... she protected him and his brother and took the abuse herself. I never met her...she died before I was born. But thanks to her he was able to come back.

He married my mom at 19. She also came from a bad background. They had me and my sister. They split and I stayed with my dad. My sister with my mom. Later when he was sick they got back together. But here is the amazing thing.

When my dad was in hospice he confronted his mom. They talked through the issues and abuse. My dad forgave my grandma. Even after everything he embraced her and he died in peace with his mom. My dad was a brave person who fought hard. R.I.P

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Child Abuse Story From John

by John
(California, USA)

My mother worked for a pest control company in Tucson Az. when I was 10 and 11 yrs. old. The owner of this company had been close friends with my mother for many years. On occasion we would go to his house to swim in his pool and it was usually my mother and I. On one occasion my older cousin who had been sexually molesting me came along with us and as soon as we arrived we headed straight for the hot tub, as the adults would be inside smoking pot and drinking. The owner of the company walked out to check on us and viewed my head being forced down on my cousins penis. I thought he would inform my mother of this, though nothing was ever said. A few days later he asked my mother if he could take me flying in his plane, to which I agreed. Once up in the air he asked me if I would like to fly the plane and instructed me to sit in between his legs. As I had my hands on the controls he began to rub my arm. This put me in a state of unknowing fear. I said I was done and went to sit in the back of the plane. I located a car type cigarette lighter, pushed it in til it got red hot and put my finger in it. This forced us to turn around and immediately land. I never informed anyone. I was probably in fear my my mothers job. I also witnessed this man in his pool with very suspicious things going on. This was with his 3 yr. old child. This is a very well known man throughout the U.S. Is it to late to expose this or confront him. All I would like is an apology. My life was ruined over others sexual dysfunction, I am willing to forgive if someone could find it in their heart to ask me for that forgiveness.

I am wanting this person to understand what they have done to my life.

Soul Killed by Father

by George
(California, USA)

Since my dad was an emotionally distant man I wanted to make him love me. His response was to slam my head into the top of door frame. He did not stop walking swung me over to my mom. His reaction proved he did it on purpose. I was totally Destroyed. In pain. I hated Him. Myself. I had a lump on my head for two weeks. After that I would go out the back of the house and come in after he went to the bedroom. He got his wish. He had no son as far as I was concerned. He soul killed me.

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Sibling Rivalry or Abuse

by Lauren
(Pennsylvania, USA)

It all began when I was a little girl. About 8 or 9, to be exact. My older brother would smack me in the face, call me ugly, fat and stupid. He would also threaten to hurt me if I didn't do what he says. Now I am 13 years old, more mature and independent. My older brother is 14 and still treats me like this. He constantly mocks me, insults me and picks on me. I tell my mom, but she doesn't do anything at all. I am too scared to tell anyone else. I told my BFF and she has been through it all too. I told my dad but he says to "ignore him." Um, HOW CAN I IGNORE HIM IF HE PHYSICALLY SMACKS ME IN THE FACE?! I can't call the police because I am worried that he will pretend that he is innocent. But when he is out of the house or in his room, I scratch myself so I can calm down. The scratches calm me down. I just wish that my brother would leave me alone. He doesn't ALWAYS hurt me. Sometimes (very very very rarely) we get along. We like some of the same things and thats the only thing I like about him. Besides that, I hate him. I really really do. I wish I could live somewhere else. I need to talk to someone about this. Anyone. I can't talk to my BFF because she is going to high school. She's my only friend.

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I Need Justice

by Laurie
(Canada)

No one will disagree that this is a crime.

As a child I was sexually abuse by both my brothers. The impact of this abuse that started when I was 7 years of age continued till I ran away from home.

I have spent a lifetime trying to get justice but I have found none. In spite of making an impact statement with the RCMP, writing to two prime ministers, ministers of justice NOTHING.

I will stop being a victim of this crime when I can get justice.

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Still Feel Guilt

by Aaron
(Toronto, Ontario, Canada)

I was 5 years old. I went to see my aunt and uncle outside of the city. I used to go there and play before my brother was born and my cousin was just a little baby.

She had neighbors; Two brothers who were just a few years older than me. They would come over and we would play.

One day they took me upstairs at my aunt and uncle's house. They had found a box of porno magazines. They showed them to me. They told me all about sex. They showed me theirs. They wanted to see mine. I still remember what one said when they saw it. He said "yours is bigger soft than mine is hard." He got me to touch him. He asked me to put it in my mouth. They told me not to talk about it.

Afterwards I remember telling my aunt that I had seen the dirty magazines upstairs and she said that she shouldn't have let me look at them. She told me that I shouldn't talk about this kind of thing. That it was for adults only. I felt ashamed.

When I got home I didn't talk about it. I remember obsessing about sex afterwards. I remember constantly imagining sexual scenarios. I felt guilty and wrong but I kept doing it anyway.

I went to swimming lessons. I remember being surrounded by boys in the locker room. One of the boys was making fun of me. "look at his dick! It's so long and weird looking! " he was talking about my foreskin I guess. He then started flicking my penis and he laughed again. "look, it's getting hard just from me touching it" I went out to go swimming but remember feeling that sense of shame.

I felt I couldn't tell anyone, I felt so guilty. I figured so I had "participated" I was guilty.

Years later when I was around 12 or 13 I decided to tell my friend. I said "you know I've never told this to anyone but I was sexually abused as a child". He was shocked. He said " what the ***!? Really?! Is that true? ". I felt such guilt and shame in that moment that I said "no, I was joking". He didn't press me but I'm not sure if he believed me.

Years later when I told my mom she seemed like she didn't quite believe me. She seemed like she couldn't believe that this could have happened in the care of my aunt and uncle. When she told my aunt, my aunt denied anything had happened at her house.

Since then I have occasionally come forward and told people with varying results. The best are sympathetic. The worst tell me that they don't want to hear it. Or that I should suck it up and deal.

Now I am 30 and I still feel guilt and shame. Now I also feel anxiety, depression and anger. I feel emotionally stunted. totally stuck in the past and unable to move on.

I don't blame those kids. I don't blame my aunt or uncle. I just wish I had told someone back then and dealt with it from the start. Now I don't know if I can deal with it. I don't know how.

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Cruel and Unusual Punishment

by Bri
(Connecticut, USA)

All names have been changed to protect myself.
Its really hard to write this. I dont really know where to start. I've wanted to make this public for a long time. I tried posting on myspace and blogger but I figured no one would ever read it. I'm hoping it will be read here.

So to start off my name is bri. I am currently 18 years old and am from connecticut. ive lived here my entire life with the woman that gave birth to me, rose. The father nate, my older sister by 9 years, chris. And my two younger brothers, joe and dustin.

I'll start with childhood.

It wasnt always bad. At least I dont think. When I was little things were pretty normal I guess. I had pets. I went to school etc. Around kindergarten I apparently started to act up (from storys I was told) in kindergarten I apparently wrote fu on the carpet in chalk, I squirted a boy with my waterbottle, I did stupid little child things.

What I do remember is the beatings from my mother that would proceed when I got home from school, the punishment would reflect the act most of the time. The event with the chalk resulted in me having to eat and swallow sticks of chalk, the water bottle incident followed by me being scalded with boiling water. Aparently I only got worse in first grade my mother was pregnant with their first boy dustin. Apparently every day my mothwr had to come get me from school bevause I did something to misbehave. And each time I got into the car I knew whatwas to come. The doors and windows would be locked we would drive to a small quiet street by the school and I would recieve a beating.

In first grade I remeber a few specific things. 1 I didnt have friends, I was not allowed to have friends come over the house, because it was nasty. I smelled horrible my parents never made me shower or bought me a toothbrush or taught me personal hygine. And I put on weight because my parents didnt feed us correctly, we never had fruit and vegtables available because my mother liked to save money and junkfood was cheeper healthy food was a rare treat. It was my entire life, even when I was older my mother would buy rotten bananas and when we didnt eat them shed make banana bread that was discusting and rotten. We did have a garden for vegtables but they were always attacked bybugs abd animals. When I was about 15 I dod find a thimbleberry bush and crab apple tree that me and my brothers ate from.

Getting back to my point, because of the neglect I was assigned a social worker at school. Mrs e and she always found it to be that I was a bad kid it was apperently never my parents fault. Towards may of first grade I was walking at school, I was never taught to tie my shoes, no I was not dumb I was just never taught until I was about 12 I wasnt taught to read a clock until I was around 14. So my shoes were untied and I tripped and got a strep infection from the cut that resulted from my fall. I got very skinny and sick.

One day at my grandmas, I love my grandmother, I passed out she brought me to the hospital and I was checked in thatnight and they found I had this life threatening infection in my arm that was spreading. The abuse from my mother then stopped I was spoiled they would bring me toys and candy in the hospital even sometimes my mom or sister would sleep over there with me. Once I went bwck home the abuse continued.

My mother then birthed justin. one day my mother had me watch the newborn at home while she went to the store, the next day I bragged to the kids at school that i was responsible and helpful and a teacher overheard and called dcf, my parents did a lot to covertheir asses. First they cleaned up the house then they gave me my own room and the best part was they bought me my own bed. It was the first bed I ever had. I slept in the crib until I outgrew it and it broke. Then I slept on the crib matress on the floor for years.

I felt so special to have an actual bed. I got new clothes and got to go to summer camp I was so happy. My parents told me to lie to the dcf worker abd deny any abuse. The told me if I told the truth dcf would take meaway and kill me. I was young and believed it. Two years later my second brother was born. I was 8 so I was left to take care of myself, I remember one event I tried to cook a hamburger and burnt myself pretty bad so my punish was I had to sit in the bathroom with the doors and windows locked and a towel pluggging the door seal. There was a bucket of amonia I was instructed to sit next to and breathe in. The abuse continued. I remember around middle school my mom cornered me by a door I was on the ground and got up and she pushed me into the window it broke my hand went through it and I had a few glass shards lodged in my neck. We went to the er and my lie I was given was that I was roughousing with my cousin. The doctor believed it.

I became very depressed I wanted to die I started to slice and burn my skin. My parents didnt care, my mom thought it was funny. None of my so called friends found out till 3 years later in 9th grade. I went to the doctor and was diagnosed with depression I took meducation till about 11th grade. Then one day I got so depressed I stopped taking them and slept and layed in bed for 6 days straight only getting up to get water and use the bathroom and I only did that when everyone was asleep.

October of my senior ear I started a relationship with this boy jake. I adored him but sadly he was a drug addict and cared more about weed and pills then me. So we broke up. I was devistated amd to make me stop crying my mother would beat me. Somewhere around 11th grade I grew up and stopped cutting. Havent done it since. Its stupid. Not gonna hurt myself because other people hurt me.

My next relationship was with a boy named bryan he was in the navy. My family adored him, one day he pushed me down the stairs and broke 2 ribs abd punctured my lung. I left him. My mother was pissed she said that he was the best I could ever do she was so pissed that she stabbed me. I still have the marks. The abuse got worse.

Around march of my senior year I met a boy named matthew. I wasnt really interested we just talked then as we talked I began to really like him we started dating in june. We are still together its been over a year hes everything ive ever wanted. We have plans of moving out of state to settle down and start a family some day. My parents were nasty to him. I let him drive my car one day he was taking me out to dinner we got into an accident we were both generally ok. I covered for him and told my parents I was driving. I saved up and mechanically fixed my car. I am still driving her today. Months later my parents found out he was driving they called me to come home. It was actually on halloween long stiry short they threatened to sue matt for something that was my fault. Everyone overreacted. My mither sliced my back with a knife and sent me to the hospital claiming I did it. I had an anxiety attack. I was released the next day. I was given the decision either leave matt or leave my parents. I left my abusive f***ing parents. I moved in with my grandmother. And my life is now normal.

I'm still recovering but life is good now. Me and matt are moving in together soon I have a safe place to live a car a job pets. Life is good. I do not consider my parents to be family. I mostly cut them off. Which I dont mind. I'm in college studying daarc. And I want to have a house and children with matt. The outcome for the story for me is you can always make a better life for yourself as long as you have the initiative.

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My Abuser Was Arrested

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

In a recent newspaper article i saw a face i thought i would never see again. Arrested for child abuse, my heart did not leap and say thank god. I honestly thought i would have people knocking on my door the next day. 12 years and the charges against this man go back even further. If some one knocks on my door i think i would lie and keep things easy but i also want him to rot in jail. Help

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Partner of Abuse Victim

by Laura
(England)

Being the partner of someone who suffered sexual child abuse: 
Up until 2 weeks ago I was the girlfriend of a sexual abuse victim, I say victim because that is what he is. He recently turned 49 and has never got over the horrific abuse he suffered in the past, he has never been able to get to the point where he could become a survivor, he is a victim and I now feel that I have become a victim too because I have failed him.

Our 2 year relationship was never the norm but we got on so well that he instantly became my best friend, we would spend pretty much all day together, every day, and never tired of each others company.

It didn't take long for him to open up to me and start telling me about his past, unfortunately the damage was so deep that it had left him with personality disorders and mental health issues which always reared their ugly head when the past was mentioned.

The abuse (he suffered) started when a well known paedophile who was convicted as part of operation yew tree got hold of him. my ex partner didn't give evidence for his recent conviction because it was just too much for him but he had been contacted and asked to give evidence as he had given evidence and got him convicted for a previous offence. I don't know everything about the abuse he suffered as he still cant talk about it but he has been able to write some things down and email them to me. he told me how he was taken to a park and abused by 2 old men on 2 occasions. he was forced to take part in sex parties where 3 couples and 10 men passed him about like a piece of meat and he was penetrated over 20 times in the same evening, he was even forced to perform a sex act on a dog because they thought it would be funny. This was just the tip of the iceberg, the poor guy was also abused by his parents and lost his virginity (forced) to his mother.

He has suffered so much that he cant accept love from anyone. I loved him very much and still do but because of his past he kept hurting me. He has obsessive behaviours, he is addicted to pornography and has problems with a gambling addiction. He hasn't been able to work because of the deep set depression it has caused him and he has never received the help he should have. I have spent 2 years giving him nothing but love thinking that I could maybe save him, he has hurt me so many times with his actions and every time I have forgiven him because I know it's not his fault, it's what those evil b****rds did to him. I thought love from me and my family would change him but I think it's just to late for him. I had to end our relationship because I just cant take anymore hurt. he gambled away every penny we had in our account leaving me with no way to pay the rent and worried sick that our dogs will end up without food. he is now left with nothing, no family, no home and no hope. I gave him the car as it was all I had left so at least I know he will have somewhere to sleep. I have my family and friends who I can ask in my desperate hour and because I know I have them I know that I can get through this but he has no one and it's all a result of what those b*****ds did to him 40 years ago.

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Exodus 20:12

by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)

“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land that the LORD your God is giving you."

Growing up I heard it over and over by my mother and till this day it always comes up in my mind. I think of everything I lived with my father and mother, makes me wonder how does my mothers mind work. How does the mind of a woman who deffend her husband from being acussed of sexually molesting their daughter. I'm saying she found us naked in their bed, my father and me, I was nine years old. I will never forget that day. I still have a really hard time trying to understand why she bailed my father out of jail because he was suffering. Yet never offered me support when I was a child and the one suffering being abused.

I also used to feel bad for not loving my parents, for wishing I had never met them but now I dont care. I got tired of all the lies, manipulations, incredibly weird stories and actions that my parents live day to day until now. My mother would always say forgive your father because the Lord forgives all of his children, in the meantime my father never changed, drank each second of his existence. So how was I suppose to forgive anyone and stay living with them, a drunk child molester father and a wife, my mother who believe in his change when very clearly there was no change.

My father still drank every day till the last day I saw him. My mother wanted me to live with them, to stay together as family. I just couldn't stay, I couldn't be part of my own family anymore. I had to protect myself from both of my parents. I felt alone, I felt unprotected. Today I'm proud of myself for leaving my parents at twelve years old, God took me away from them, from the pain, abuse and loneliness.

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Child Abuse Story From Emily

by Emily
(California, USA)

I ran away from home when I was fifteen when my father choked me, and threatened to throw me off the balcony of our fifth story apartment. I ran away to a friends' house where the daughter had told me she protected her mother from her step father, so I thought they would understand. The Mother was a "psychologist", she told people. She had it turned out taken some courses at the university. She took me back home and told my parents I was sick and "needed therapy". My father once again, got away with domestic violence.

I folded inside. I wanted LIFE to go well and I thought I was being well treated. I was told that I had a problem with sex. I didm my brother had performed oral sex on me when I was seven and he was thirteen. And other things had happened. That I saw my deceased Mother as perfect and that I put people on pedestals. It was all very confusing. I was studying hard in school and wanted to be a doctor.

Therapy is not always the answer. It's flawed at best. But it is all the world offers. I became suicidal after I had sex with a man I didn't know, who was impotent but he tried to perform anal sex on me. The therapist's daughter I spoke about set me up with him. It was really crazy to be friends with my therapists' daughter. She told me her Mother, the therapist, had made her get an abortion when she was fifteen. WE were eighteen when she started hanging around me when I was at university and she hadn't even graduated high school.

I had all kinds of boundary violations when I was a girl living in Switzerland. i lost all self respect and all sense of morality.
Now I go to Mass and I have spoken with priests of all people about how I was violated. They are usually helpful and kind. With all the church scandals there are still some helpful people in the church. i would rather speak to priests and nuns than psychologists.
Thanks for listening.

Trapped By Childhood

by Loren
(Idaho, USA)

My dad was extremely abusive. He called me every name in the book. The name he didn't call me was the one that he kept to himself. He told me as an adult that he thought I was gay as a child, that he wanted to make a man out of me by being hard on me. I was beat constantly and remember being whipped with belts, vacuum cords and sticks, rapped on my head with his knuckles. I was a sensitive child. I was sensitive because I was electrocuted in the first grade and felt extremely anxious. To top that off, I had a huge scar on my mouth because of the electrocution, so I was easy pickings for children to make fun of. The kids made fun of me, calling me names such as stupid, faggot, lead-head, gay, ugly. I felt I had no safe haven. I got teased relentlessly at school and then at home I got brutalized by my father and family members. I have a college degree but have a hard time functioning in society because of all the abuse as a child. As I turn 50, I find myself becoming an abuser and I want to stop this cycle. I have tried to turn it over to God but feel trapped in my feelings of inadequacy. I want to be the best father but feel trapped. I should not have had children. I was highly successful before getting married and having children. With the pressure of fatherhood and marriage I have felt those old inadequacies rise to the surface. I now cannot hold down a full time job. I have started to believe God does not exist because none of my prayers for relief have ever been answered. Either he does not exist or He hates me and wants my misery.

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Child Abuse Story From Olivia

by Olivia C
(Location Undisclosed)

I think I was abused when I was little I have never told anyone besides my best friend A--. She said it was abuse, but if I asked the abuser they would say I was exaggerating it, or that it never happened. When I was little my dad would always hit me with his belt. It was usually over something like not cleaning my room, or arguing with my sister.

It happened quit frequently, he would throw me on the ground and hit me on the back, and legs with his belt.

He always pushed me around, chased me up the stairs and yelled at me.

He threatened to send me to a girls home or into the foster system when I did the littlest thing like talking back. Every kid talks back at one point or another. It’s life, it happens. Getting told you are going to be sent away makes you feel worthless, it makes you feel like maybe your parents never wanted you in the fist place. They are so quick to send me away maybe they would be better off without me.

When I was little my dad was working and my mom was sick so I always had to take care of myself. When I was 10 my mom was in a car accident and she became even more sick and in chronic pain than she already was. She became emotionally abusive.

She would yell at me for EVERYTHING. I would walk into the room and somehow I already did something wrong. She got frustrated with me and smacked me, pulled my hair, and one time smacked my head on a counter.

My parents have never been there for me emotionally. I self harm and have depression. I think I might also have a form of anxiety. I keep everything to myself, and I am terrified to reach out for help.

I think I may have been sexually abused when I was little. I just have weird memories and a lot of the long term symptoms and effects of it. I hope one day I will know for sure and I can stop guessing and wondering so much about it.

Now at 17 years old, I am emotionally abused and neglected education.

The abuse that I have suffered in the past, and the abuse that I am still struggling with is affecting me emotionally. I am basically a lost little girl who has no clue what to do and how to heal. I hope one day I will overcome all of this abuse and I can use my struggles to help others.

But for right now I need to help myself. I know that my story is not even close to what so many kids go through and sounds like nothing but it was on my heart to share my story. :)

Abused At 3

by Tatyana
(Location Withheld)

When I was 3, it started. My dad was at work and I was home with my mom. She did something I will never forget and it haunts me in my dreams. She took a blanket and put it over my face. I couldn't breathe. But the reason why I'm alive now is that my caring, loving dad came home at the right time. My mom told me if I did tell dad, that she would lock me in my room without TV and food for 2 days. So I didn't tell him. I felt like my mom didn't love me. When my brother was born, she didn't pay attention to me. I was so sick of my mom treating me like crap, I almost ran away from home. I didn't, my dad loves me so much. When I turned 5, the abused got worse. My mom took a stick and hit it against my skin. It hurt so bad. She hit it on my arms and back. I still have the scars. When I turned 6, no more abuse, but the pain still hurt. In 2009 when I was 12, my mom left. I figured out it was a good time to tell dad about my abused story. I told him, and he told me, "Don't worry I have custody of you and your brothers". I have two brothers. They make me happy when I have the abused dream that haunts me. Now that I'm 17, I'm a Junior in high school. I'm doing well with my dad and two brothers. My brothers are 9,and 13 years old. I still thank my dad for helping me through my pain. I also thank the lord. That's my story.

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Child Abuse Story From Jocelynn

by Jocelynn
(Indiana, USA)

Thief In The Night: I'll forever have that day etched in my mind. I remember that day it was raining pretty hard. I couldn't see 10ft in front of me. Eventually the rain died down and it became clear. It was about 9 pm when I got out the shower and was ready for bed. My mom was working 3rd shift, like she did often. My brother left to his friends house. I laid in bed and sang to my self. When I was on the brink of sleep, I was awoken by the front door opening and closing. Me being the kid I was, blew it off as my brother coming back. That was until my door opened.

When I turned to see who it was, a hand covered my mouth and he climbed in my bed. It was so dark, I couldn't see. I tried to scream with no avail. I struggled and squirmed the entire time. All he said was... "It'll only be a sec", and he repeated it as if he was reassuring me.

When he finished, he left with a few unnerving words. He told me if I told he would kill me, and I believed him for awhile. I cried for about an hour, then I sat quietly until I heard the front door open again. I ran to my closet and hid. I put my hand over my mouth so he couldn't hear me breathe. My bedroom door opened and I could hear my name being called, but I couldn't tell who it was. When my closet door opened, I went to scream, until I realized it was my brother.

I ran to him and cried. He keep asking my what was wrong but I couldn't tell him. When I looked up from his shoulder, I saw his best friend. I could tell he knew by the way he was looking at me. His eyes held sadness, remorse, and sympathy. I hated that look and I still do.

The fact that someone just came into my room and took something I can never get back, infuriates me to the max.

When I was 12, I finally told. My dad blamed my brother, my mom and brother their selves, but I blamed the only one who can be considered responsible...the rapist.

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Abused in India

by Suki
(India)

I am not a child, but I don't know how to express the child abuse I went through when I was a kid, which is still continuing. my father always shouts and emotionally abuses me, he is always swearing bad words,which has so much affected my personality that I have behavioural issues , I cant socialise even for that matter cant maintain my facebook account ,he shouts so loudly that even neighbours come ask what is the matter, he goes to all family functions and does not take me and my mother with him, we are not in contact with any relatives , because he owes them money, and they keep scolding my mother all the time.so we stopped going to any family functions,. he has very big ego, keeps arguing all the time, he earns a lot of money. yet does not pay the rent, nor brings essential monthly food items to home, yet spends money on relatives and on friends, whenever we argue with him, or make him see reason that he is wrong, he borrows money from neighbours and they come and insult us, and we need to keep requesting him to return money and instead beg him that he can treat us badly but just return their money. monetarily we are dependent on him, and this is his main power to anything to us, my mother used to earn money by stitching clothes, but he started taking money from customers and the business failed ,he does not buy us new clothes, nor do we have any vehicle to go out , my mother doesnot have money at all, yet she does not want to earn, i want to earn but cant gather the guts to do so, I even got seat in a medical college, and cleared the difficult medical entrance exam, but couldnot join becos of my dad,, it is not that he doesnot have money, but he doesnot give us any,my mother says when I was young he had purchased many properties , its not about money , he doesnot allow us to talk to neighbours nor to anybody for that matter ,not directly but he fights with them or takes money with them and we cant talk , he shifts house evey year, in last 10years he has shifted nearly 12 houses, doesnot pay rent wantedly,i don't like him, so I don't talk to him even for that he makes an issue starts shouting, and breaking things and says how dare I don't talk to him, even after so much torture, he expects me to talk to him normally or else he throws a tantrum , my life is hell, I tried everything, yoga, spirituality,i cant move out as in india a girl cant live alone,nor do I have any money ,even if I move out I am sure he would make it a big issue and call all relatives make them see me as a spoilt child , he has emotionally weakened me so much that I cant even tell what is his mistake , even though my soul knows all his life is mistake, i will just tell you a incidence of how much he harrases me, one day I tell him that my college principal is scolding me for not paying the college fees and request him to pay the fees, and he calls my principal at 3.00am in the morning and starts harassing her how dare you scold my daughter and starts abusing her with bad words and keeps giving her blank calls for days together, and finally one day I am called to the principal office, and she says even if I pay my complete fees completely , she does not want me studying in her college ,as she cant tolerate a student who harrases the principal and this would be a bad example to other students., I used to study well and was quite popular in college, this incident turned my college life in to hell, when I come home back and ask him why he did that,he says if i ask he would leave me and mom and get out of the house, then I ask him to come and apologise to principal , he says he would rather die then apologise her, when I say if you don't apologise they would throw me out of the college , he says he is not bothered.Everyday he keeps shouting loudly, keeps insulting us with bad words, to show that we are a piece of sh*t, he instead of paying for my college fees , pays for his brothers kids college fees, spends loads of money on them so that they look better than me and my mom, uses all his contacts and gets them admitted in good colleges, so that I feel bad, I don't know what I should do, I always ask god why me, why so much of stress to me?

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Child Abuse Story From Emily

by Emily
(Location Undisclosed)

I became abusive: 
The saddest thing I deal with is that I became abusive when I was six. I hit a neighbor over the head with a hammer! I was learning to be violent from what was going on with my parents. They would hit each other, yell and scream and my Mother would leave the house in our car for hours on end. It never stopped. She was killed in a car crash with my father driving when I was nine.
Hearing violence before you go to bed is a nightmare.
You breathe it, you drink it...
I hit a boy in the nose when I was nine because he wouldn't say the Lord's prayer. He was Jewish. I slapped a friend of mine. My Mother slapped an admiral's daughter when she messed up my bedroom. I was a mess growing up sexually too.

Everyone says I live in the past. I can't just walk away from it. I have to learn from it. My older sister said to me "You can NEVER treat ANYONE the way our parents treated each other" and "marry someone who is happy". She cares about me.

I never had kids. I was terrified they would be hurting like I was. I was just a "bad seed" affected by everything I saw and felt.

Thanks Darlene for doing this for people. Maybe someone can learn something from what I am saying.

Child Abuse Story From Glenn

by Glenn
(Location Undisclosed)

My abuse was sexual and was done to me by my uncle. My earliest memory is about age 7 - My mother was often in hospital and my father would leave me & my brother & sister with my uncle or grandmother. I would have to sleep on a mattress on the floor in my uncles bedroom. I'm sure he would deliberately give me a thin blanket so i would get cold. When I complained about being cold he would tell me to get into his bed where it was warm. he started putting his hands down my pajama pants and rubbing my bottom. I would just lay there to afraid to say anything. this progressed to him removing my PJ pants altogether and then licking my bottom & sucking my penis. i remember it felt nice but i also felt ashamed. he liked to position himself over my chest and them masturbate until he squirted all over my face. he would then leave it for me to clean off. he would often make me suck him and swallow. I hated this. One time he took me camping. We were in a remote area the first night there he made me sleep naked he did all the usual things to me ( I had become used to it ) but this time he went further. It hurt a lot I remember crying loudly. when I was about 9 I got the courage to tell my father what my uncle was doing to me. My father took me to the police station and made me tell the officer there what I had told him. as a result my uncle went to prison for 2 years. I never saw him again. I have struggled with my sexuality my entire life - I have been married 3 times, I am bi sexual but no one knows. he got 2 years in prison - I got Life!

Child Abuse Story From Bee

by Bee
(Location Undisclosed)

I don't think of myself as a victim but I was definitely a target. Reading the stories here has helped me immensely and I want to thank the webmaster and everyone who has commented and contributed.

My mother got pregnant when she was 18, she and my dad who was also 18, married and I was born when they were 19.

My parents worked hard and provided a warm and stable home life. I never went without food, shelter or medical care and even though my parents were working lower middle class, I was spoiled with toys, clothes and private school education. My parents didn't physically or sexually abuse me.

But my first memories are of guilt and blame and criticism. I was always in the way. They told me I was a bad girl if I asked for as much as a glass of water at a time when they didn't feel like making it for me. I was told even at the age of 3 or 5 that I was too big to cry. My dad always compared me to other children and said that I wasn't as good or smart or pretty as they were. My mother endured emotional abuse, infidelity, and verbal abuse from my dad. She allowed him to do those things to me as well. She would get upset if I told any other adults about what was going on in our house. She would say that I was a bad girl, a liar and that I was manipulative.

Encouraging words were very few and far between.

I've never heard of this type of abuse before and I'm not sure if it is abuse but I feel that it is; my parents would talk about how broke they were all the time but then they would give me all kinds of expensive birthday and Christmas gifts. As soon as I opened the gifts, they would say how bad and spoiled I was and how I was breaking the family. And they would say that every day until the next time they spent a lot of money on me and it would start all over. I was all wrong, nothing I did was ever right. Everything bad that happened was my fault.

I was sexually abused by a babysitter's husband for about 3 or 4 years from the ages of about 9-12. I never told, I wanted to protect my mom and dad from the knowledge.

My mother suffered many miscarriages after I was born. She was always trying to have a boy for my dad. She told me this many times. My dad also told me many times that he wanted a son and that he wished I had been a boy.

So until I was 14, my mother was repeatedly pregnant and sick. My dad yelled at me if I asked my mother for anything. I was never to bother her. But it was obvious that by just being alive and breathing, I was bothering both of them. They both made that very clear to me.

My sister was born alive and healthy. I was 14 at the time. At first my parents treated her no better than they did me. I took care of her a good bit of the time when she was small. But then when she was about 4 years old, something changed. She became their perfect angel. And I was still all wrong. I was blamed for things that she did. As she grew up, they tried to make me think that I wasn't good enough to be around her. They encouraged her to join in criticizing and judging me. They taught her to say very cruel things to me disguised as jokes just as they often did. They taught her to think that she is better than I am.

I've always thought that my mom was envious of the fact that I had the patience and love to give to my sister when she was a baby. At that time my mother didn't have much energy because she was too emotionally distraught by my dad's infidelity and because she worked long hours.

So my mom downplayed what I did for my sister when she was little. Family friends have told my sister how devoted I was to her and how much time I took up with her even though I was only a teenager myself. My sister didn't believe them. My mom hid the fact that I cared for my sister a good bit from our extended family so only a few of them guessed how much I actually took care of the baby, how much I loved her and played with her.

My parents consistently told me I was stupid, lazy, fat, foolish, ungrateful, manipulative and mean. Because of their verbal and emotional abuse and the sexual abuse I endured, I had very low confidence in myself. I had difficulty believing that anyone could actually like me and I had difficulty believing any nice things that anyone said about me.

As a result, I was overly eager to please everyone and I would cling to friends and do anything for them just so they would hang around with me. I would completely forget about myself, I put everyone else's needs first.

My parents added low self esteem to the list of things they chastised and yelled at me about. They wanted me to snap out of my low self esteem. I thought my low self esteem was some craziness inside of me and that it was all my fault. Because my parents told me that it was abnormal and all my fault.

The sexual abuse was extremely traumatic. And when it began I withdrew from my parents even further. As i said, I kept what was happening to me a secret because I wanted to protect my parents and because I was blamed for everything. All my needs were a bother and a burden. I could imagine what a horrible burden I would be if I told them what that man was doing to me. My mom was pregnant and I was told time and time again not to bother her with anything. When I was being sexually molested, my mother had a stillborn child.

I had been close to the man who molested me, I loved him when I was small. He was like a grandfather and I called him Uncle. My dad wasn't kind to me so I relished the attention from my babysitter's husband. And when he began molesting me, I was so betrayed and hurt. "Why doesn't he love me?" I repeated to myself over and over. "He couldn't do this to me if he loved me," I cried on my pillow over and over. I decided that what my parents told me must be true, I must be a bad, unlovable, worthless person.

I told no one. When I was about 17, I told my best friend what the man had done to me. She didn't believe me. She said that he was too old to molest anyone. So it was years before I told another soul. Still haven't told my mom and I never will. Don't want to. Never will tell her. She doesn't deserve to know now. I survived it. It was horrible but I lived through and now have a better life.

I married an abusive alcoholic. We are divorced now. My mother continues to try to buy my children's affections and she continues to criticize me in front of my children and to make my sister out to be a saint in front of my children.

If I stand up for myself, I'm still crazy, manipulative and making it all up.

But I've taken some positive steps for my children and myself. My saving factor has been my work. I know that at least when my children, grandchildren, and those I've taught at nursery school are under my supervision, they are well cared for and protected.

My life's goal has been to do my very best to provide shelter, care and protection for children and the elderly. I'm very proud of the fact that I've hopefully saved others from being sexually and emotionally and verbally abused as I was. Thank you for reading my story. I hope it helps someone as much as reading all of your stories has helped me.

Child Abuse Story From Hector L

by Hector L
(Florida, USA)

I was born in Puerto Rico,my mom and dad divorced when I was just 5 years old. After the divorce dad moved to the united states lived in new York city. Where he met my stepmother I---. she had only one child named M-- he was raised by his grandmother. when she knew that dad had kids she told my dad that she want it to raise kids been that she could not have anymore children and her only son was raise by her mother. she told dad to take my sister and I away from our mom to come live with them. so dad took mom to court and been that we live in such poor conditions the judge thought that our best interest was to live with our father. after the court decided our fate my dad went directly to my mom's house with police officers to take us away from our beloved mother. yes we lived poor but we were not abuse in any way. I remember when the officer tried to pull me off my moms legs I held them so tight crying begging my mom not to let them take me away. mom fought to keep us my sister and I but there was nothing mom could do to prevent it. we were carried to a cab going to the airport to new York city and as the cab drove away I clearly remember seen my mother on her knees screaming crying and that was the last time I saw of our mom. mind you later in years I learned that the judge told dad that we would go live with him but that he is to pay for us to go visit our mom every year during the summer breaks. I just saw my mom at the age of 35 since the day they pulled us apart. well guess what he never kept that promise to the judge. on the way to the airport while we wept dad promised us a good life all kinds of empty promises that is till we got to our new home and met our stepmother I---. that's when the nightmare started my dad worked 2 jobs at first dad did not know of the abuse that was taking place unlike normal children would get punish by been sent to their rooms or even a spanking on the buttocks we would get tortured with extension cords pilled back exposing the wires before striking us where ever the cord landed is where you got hit. or if we got caught lying she would grab a scaple an tell us to open our mouths so that she can grab our tongue an gently slice our tongues. if we took anything with out permission even if it was taking a cookie with out asking her first. she would have us put our hands down on the kitchen table and strike us with a meat clever on top of our hands an break bones like my right hand pinky is broken In 2 places do to the meat clever. or she would put rice on the floor and make us kneel on the rice holding heavy books with our arms extended and if our arms go down from been tired she would whip us with the extension cord or she would lock us up in our bedroom in the dark with no food and only sometimes when she remember she would bring us a wet rag so that we would stay some what hydrated or if we urinated on our clothes she would put hot peppers in the hole on our privates to teach us a lesson or when she would help us with the homework she would keep a big metal soup spoon in her hands and for every wrong answer we got she would hit us on our heads with it until our heads were covered in lumps and if it wasn't physical abuse it was mental abuse she would say things like you would not amount to nothing you will always be a loser an cursing in between of course. or say I hope you die in your sleep one day when I was about 10 years on a sunday morning she ask me to get ready for church an I asked if I please could stay home and that's when she commence to beat me with everything she had I started to scream from the pain she was inflicting and it seems that the louder I screamed the more mad she was getting till she eventually took her high hill off her feet and stroke me on the head with it so hard that I passed out. when I regain consciousness I found my self in the tub bleeding out my face was cover in blood and I was starting to fill cold from so much blood I had lost. she knew she could not stop the bleeding even by stuffing the hole in my head with cotton balls from the high hill she impale into my head she then told me and my sister that if we told any one of the incident she would cut our throats in our sleep. so we would not there tell no one she made sure to install the devils fear in us. when I arrived at the union hospital in Bronx New York the doctors knew that this was an abuse case when they patch my head an skin graft the doctors job was to report abuse if they though that was the case hours later I was in the hospital bed when an officer and a social worker showed up at the hospital to question me on what had happened I reply that my sister and I got into a fight and she hit me with the high hill. I was told by the doctor that there was no way that my sister would have that kind of strength to impale me with the hill and break through the cranial and been centimeters away from the brain. but we stock with our story in fear that they may find out the truth I thought if they find out the truth my sister and I will get our throats cut. this abuse went on for years then they decided to live in Mexico where I--- is from there we started to experience a new form of abuse added to the physical and mental abuse came the sex abuse my step brother and step uncle would take turns tying us down. they would tie me down while they both rape my sister and make me watch or tie her down while they raped me and she would watch. this went on for 2 years before we came back to America upon our arrival I found out that my sister was pregnant by M-- the step brother or R-- the step uncle. when my parents notice my sister's stomach growing in size they new that she was pregnant she got the beating of her life and there was nothing I could do to help her I was to scare to do anything. that's when I decided to do something about it and told a member of the church what was going on and how I was so scared for my nephew. Did not want him to be abuse like us so the church member gave me a phone number to call 3 months passed and she got beat again this time she held her stomach from the pain. that is when I said no more and called the number within the hour 2 police officers an a social worker were at my door my dad answer the door 2 hours before their arrival I was just been beating harshly by my dad he beat me like a men my left eye was shut closed had bruises all over my body. when the officers knock on the door dad open and they came in looking for me there they found me in my bed room in a fetus position crying from the pain and hurt I had enough my body was worn out from the abuse my spirit was tired of the mental abuse. They got me out of there and to the hospital my sister was spending the weekend at my aunts house so they went and got her there. my parents got arrested that day and we were placed in foster homes where my sister had her newborn son E--- my nephew. there is lots more to my story this was just a sneak peak to my abused childhood.

Won't Be Believed

by Sarah
(Location Undisclosed)

I am 14 years old, pretty young. My life was good before, I had a nice home, loving family, everything I wanted. But then my "mom" left and married another man. At 6 years old, that man raped me not once not twice but for 8 years. It seemed that I had jumped into the deep end. Thoughts whizzed through my head "I can't tell" "nobody will believe me" "he will hurt me" "he will hurt my family" things like that.

In middle school I became very insecure about my inside and out. I never thought I was good enough and that the abuse was my fault. People had me pinned as "always smiling, and happy go lucky". Lets face it, we live in a generation of good actors. So that's me, one thing I learned is that if we keep quiet..it gets worse. Live life to the fullest friends, and love those who support you.

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Police Did Nothing

by Ellie-may
(Blackpool, UK)

When i was about 5, my mother had a boyfriend, he always used to call me his princess and he always used to call me his baby girl, then one day i was sat down and he stuck his hands down my pants, and i didnt know what he was doing,, so i allowed him to, every day he would get me in my bed and snuggle next tho me, he stuck his fingers in me, and he made me rub him up and down. one day my mum fell out with him and he got sooo angry, that he punched the fridge and broke my mums jaw, eventually the police came and arrested him for the night. now, seven years later everybody knows, and my family only found out last year. the police have never done nothing about it. The tragic memories of that place in Blackpool will haunt me forever xoxo
By Ellie-may

From Darlene - Webmaster: I had to remove the name of the person who abused you, Ellie-may. This was not intended to further silence you. That is never my intent. But I am bound by laws that put this website at risk if I allow full names of abusers, especially when they have not been charged and convicted of a crime. I know that this can create challenges for you, but please understand the situation I'm faced with. I always have to balance the rights of people to disclose with the rights of people to some degree of privacy in order to ensure the continuation of this site. My integrity is important, but even more so, is that this site continues so that it can always be a place where survivors can share their stories.

Naming one's abuser can be cathartic, but on a public website where browsers pick up the URL along with keywords, it can also create a situation where anonymity is put at risk. If the full name of an abuser is included, it also means the name of the survivor can also be learned. Privacy and anonymity is one of the hallmarks of posting on this site. I trust you understand.

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A Tortured Soul

by Lyes
(California)

The stories are really not mine to tell but it's been 11years now and I can't seem to let go. First off I would like to congratulate all who has survived all the unspeakable actions that was place upon them. I know it's not an easy road to tred and recovery is a a blind line to follow. I'm 28 and at 17 I lost my first love due to the fact that he didn't know how to handle the abuse given. When I met him I just thought he was clumsy or just bruised easily. It wasn't until a couple of months in that I'd realize all the "accidents" were from his dad. I felt bad that I didn't notice or "realize" (he had to show and tell me.) I remember like it was yesterday I have a feeling that it's always going to feel like that. He came looking for me one day, he looked so mess up it looked like he'd been in a fight. Lip busted, eyebrow bleeding, and shirt tore up and emotionally he was worse then he look. He was confuse, piss, and afraid I think at the fact that he had to tell me more then the fact that his dad was using him as a punching bag. He lifted his shirt and there were welts all over his back about an inch thick no doubt from a belt and in a few spots it was bleeding I couldn't help but cry. I asks him who did this and he'd explain to me that his dad hasn't been the same since the divorced and lately the last few years been drinking. Now instead of occasionally getting slap here and there he gets beaten to the point of passing out or blacking out. He'd asks me to stop crying because it looked worse then it feels and as I'm writing I still can't hold back the tears his voice is in my head right now. After that there was an incident that I saw first hand that will haunted me for the rest of my life. I was hiding in his closet because when his dad came home he look at me as if he'd seen a ghost and usher me into the closet. Through the small crack I was able to see everything. His dad came in slurring his words then punch him across the face he'd hitted the floor so hard that he didn't get up, his dad picked him up and threw him across the room and still proceeded to take off his belt and beat him black and blue. He finally finish but not until he left his "trademark" as N--- puts it, he takes his belt and with the buckle part (as it has his first initial) and strike it down so hard that it leaves an imprint if it didn't cut him first. OK as long as I've known him I met him at 12 he was 14 and by the time he was 16 the state got involve and this is where I'm angry still because they came took him away to Florida we lived in Cali and things became worse. He was to be place with his mother who had a boyfriend that he didnt get along with so the arrangment didnt last long. Instead of bringing him back to Cali he was place in a foster home out there and that's where the sexual abuse happen. I didn't know about it until it was too late he'd ran away and the police was looking for him. Of course I only found out because they were interrogating me about his where about which freaked me out because I thought things were going fine. He had a little sister, two parental figure that he had always spoke highly of and was starting a great new life. I didn't know until later that when the mom was out of town the guy forced him into sexual act of penatration berating him and using threat even as far as gunpoint. I'll spare you the detail let's just say during one of the assault at gunpoint he'd maneuver his way out during the act manage to get a hold of the gun but still struggling with the assailant. The gun and it went off and shot the f***er in the balls (sorry for the language) it was due to lack of a better term and that night he ran away. I didn't hear, see, or talk to him for almost 8 months until one night he'd showed up in my room. All I can do was hold and interrogate him once I felt that he was OK. That night he'd explain everything details that still haunts me even in my dreams and if it still haunts me I can't imagine how he felt and less then a year later he'd overdose on prescription drug. He always told me the physical abuse wasn't as bad as the mental anguish that came with the assault of a torture soul. Beautiful mind and heart he had, I just wish that I was able to release him from himself instead of him going out the way he did at 19. Thank for letting me get all that off my chest. I'm married with two kids and I still haven't figure out why I can't let it go but this helps a lot I feel as if a little weight was lifted off my shoulder. You see nobody knows about this when he pass I was self destructive and depress and slowly isolated myself from everyone that had to do with him when I met my husband I was at a point where I wanted to live life again and he was so borgerious and arrogant with life that couldn't help but fall in love I stop cutting myself he knew but never ask and I thanked him for that. So again thank you for letting me share his story and mine.

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Just Want to Forget

by Lacey
(Kentucky, USA)

My first memories are of me in the front seat of a car and my brother in the back and we are with our biological dad. I was 3 when he officially left so I couldn't have been that old. I remember him resting his hand on my knee, then thigh, and in my underwear as he fondled me. I'm not sure how many times it happened with him but my mother knowing he was a known pedophile still left us alone with him and even to this day, exclaims, "Oh, he just loved to change your diapers!"
She was abusive as well, mostly emotionally and physically but she would also watch porn in front of me and masturbate frequently. She was an alcoholic so along with all of the abuse there was also a lot of neglect.

My mom would always stare me down like she hated me (she still does this) and tell me things you should never say to a child. She stills brags to this day how I was upset over a bent toe in my shoe when I was one and her smacking me until I stopped crying and how she smashed my face into a cake pan. My father was a truck driver so when he was not home (which was hardly ever) the abuse was constant. What's worse is that her day job at that time (meaning mine and my brothers) was a babysitter. There were two one year old's and a two year one. During her drunken spells I would have to hide these babies under my bed when I was only around 5. I can remember her being drunk so I had to change a baby's diaper...well being only 5 I used too much ointment...when she woke up and saw what I had done she banged my head into the wall until I blacked out.

The second memory of sexual abuse was when I was 3 and the memories are still vague. My oldest brother who was 17 then would babysit I'm assuming quite often. I can remember him having me lay in bed naked beside him while he fondled and then would proceed to have me to do things to him. My mom did find out but she was scared that my dad would seriously hurt my brother so she made me keep my mouth shut. I'm 27 and no one in the family knows except for my other brother's wife and his ex-wife (if there's children around I will not let their parents put them in unintentional danger of not knowing) I'm thankful to God he has only one son and no daughters.

My brother moved out and things were calm (besides the abuse continued from my mother) until I met my dad's best friend's son. At the time he was 12 and I was 5 and he started molesting me, putting his fingers in me, and tried penetration but I was too small yet I can still remember that pain. He would also have me play with him and give him blow jobs. That went on for some time until my mom asked me if he was molesting me. I denied it at first because I already didn't trust her and I was embarrassed of having anyone know. She eventually got a lie of out me though, I told her we had been playing a tickling game and he accidentally touched me.

Then there was the random guy at Wal-Mart walking down the Barbie aisle at 7 and my brother's best friend and I considered one of mine at age 8 when he was 14. A few things happened but by that time I had had enough of the sexual abuse and just avoided him so it didn't last long.

At age 8 I began to become very sexually experimental with other girls in my class, which we're still friends that just never talk about it. It was frequent though.

My dad who is also a cross dresser and has an alternate persona, rubbed my butt when I was 15 but he never did anything else, so I'm not ever sure if that's abuse. He's also a porn addict so that's what he was looking at when this happened.

As the sexual abuse slowed down the physical and emotional abuse was still going on. Some times my mom would have good days, but there were mostly bad. I got use to her cheating on my dad in front of me while making me her personal psychologist to talk about these things all while giving me beer when I was 8 to catch a buzz. In front of people she would act like super mom and she was just perfect but behind closed doors I got the worst of it. I'm not sure if it's because I'm her only girl? She called my bio dad when I was around 10 also- he called back and said he hated me and I heard everything. She was also telling me she hated me and my dad (adopted dad) hated me and to this day if a relationship doesn't work out all I can hear in my head is, "You are nothing but a dumb B****, who will ever love someone like you? No one."

At 11 I began to try to commit suicide every weekend. I'm so thankful I didn't succeed but after a few weekends she found out and was furious. She threw a bottle of prescription pills in my face and told me if I wanted to kill myself then I could go F***ing do it. After one certain attempted suicide I realized I liked cutting...and so it began.

I'd cut and cut. At 13 I had already been drinking for years now (crazy to say, huh?) and I began doing pills and pot. I was kicked out of middle school and started 'cybering' and talking to older men on the computer while I was at home.
I was so use to sexual abuse I started meeting older guys, mostly my friends brother's...there was a lot of men who took advantage of my young age just for not knowing any better. Then a woman teacher would always invite my friend's and I over to her house to drink and party and of course sex was involved.

At 14 my eating disorder evolved.

At 16 my mom found out my dad was cheating on her. In order for them to 'save their marriage' they became swingers...which my mom tried hooking me up with a guy from their swinging club.

I also forgot about their fighting- there were constantly fighting when I was small, I had to watch my dad cut my mom's thumb off...she had it sewed back on. I always remember glass breaking, yelling, and just violence.

I'm 27 now and that was my life until I was 16. As an adult I have had horrible relationships, including an ex committing suicide and having it blamed on me, addiction problems, there's a lot that come's with abuse. I still suffer from esteem problems and it's almost impossible to have emotions for a male other than in a friendly way. I don't ever want to get married or have children. I don't cut anymore and I'm proud to say I have overcome the eating disorder. Sad thing is that I have professional job, yet when I come home I fall apart....I just want to forget everything.

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Weird Kid

by Emily
(California, USA)

My father told me I started acting "weird" when I was six. I was about 30 when he told me that.

I remember I hit other children. I was sexualized by the time I was seven. But I coudln't control myself around other children. I hit a girl over the head with a hammer when I was six. I felt terrible about it. My parents were hitting each other at that time. My Mother would get in the car and drive around in the middle of the night. They would argue horrendously. I would cry myself to sleep among my stuffed animals and build a fort around my head with them and my pillows. One time I even went into the den of our house where my father was drinking and stayed on the couch with him. The house smelled of liquor all the time.

I remember my Mother not talking to me for days and days when I was sick with the mumps and had to stay in my bedroom. She brought me lunch but didn't talk to me. I thought SHE was weird really, the way she was so silent with me. She was Finnish and Finnish people are known for not talking. But I have Finnish friends now who talk all the time.

I feel badly that I hurt other children. I hit a boy named H-- in the nose after he told me he was Jewish and talked about the tatoos on people's arms. He wouldn't say the Lord's Prayer so I hit him in the nose. I bloodied his nose. I couldn't believe I would do such a thing. I didn't get in trouble for it. But I remember I felt shocked and guilty for my behavior.

No one ever tried to stop my father and Mother from arguing. They didn't have living parents who would be able to help them.

There were so many incidents of my Mother slapping a little friend of mine for messing my bedroom and being black and blue from the arguments with my father.

I am sixty and have been married for 26 years, but I don't have children. I am too scarred from the awful memories I have.

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Child Abuse Story From Charlene Part6

by Charlene T
(Chicago, Illinois, US)

All everybody did was blame me for things that was the grown adults fault and for things that they did and they been doing me like for many years, my who entire life and I been sick and tired of being accused of all kinds of misdeeds, they just didn't want me for their daughter maybe because I'm not their daughter then where did the people get me from? then why did they pick on me with all kinds of racist derogatory name callings, This family never took the time with me, they never did allow me to participate in family affairs they really left me out of all family affairs and I was not allowed to have any say, no kind of choices and the people on C E P B side of the family they did not even invite me to none of their family reunions and they dud have family reunions they did always left me out because I was not nothing to them, and the people on N R B side of the family those people never did take the time with me either and I was isolated from the world it gotten started when I was only an innocent small child and I was my school education was interrupted and I was out of school for nearly three year, I was in kindergarten they pulled me out of school, and I returned at age 7½ years of age and all they did was teased me, picked on me and they often did make fun of me along with the derogatory name callings and I was forced to flee several living addresses where I was living and I did mind my own personal business there and I did not bother no damn bother where I did live at all those addresses, I was no trouble maker I was not like that and they did tried to break in my apartment and the home that I purchased several years ago and the so-called family people never wanted nothing to do with me no way I know that and they know that too that is why they don't communicate with me and most people do find that really strange the people who took me in their family full of hateful black people who really hate me who do have Albinism and that is what they did often called me from my early childhood all the way right into my age in my 50's I was really used as a distraction to what was really going on right behind my back and they never came to check on me to see how I was doing the so-called mother didn't come to see about me either just like her husband didn't come to see abut me the so-called siblings didn't come to see about me either, that includes no aunt, no uncle, no female cousin, and no male cousin that is why so many people do think it is so strange for a family to be that criminally hateful against me all the way from my early childhood, the bias hate crimes did not stop because they do not want to stop the people are not leaving me alone, the people will not leave my children alone either, they are not going to stop, no they are not going to stop P B M is looking to keep on f***ing with me, my son A and A's children, my grand children , A's grandchildren, my son V and V's children, my grandchildren, V's grandchildren we don't have a life like this. They did gang buster me and my children what did happened to me and my children is not no coincident not it is not.