Until I was four, my life was basically normal, not that I would remember anything, I guess. But when I was four, my dad raped me for the first time. He did it regularly until I was ten. He used to tell me that that was what all fathers did with their daughters, but it wasn't polite to talk about it, even to Mum. He also said that if he did it, it meant that I was a bad girl. So I grew up pretty messed up.
When I was ten, my father raped a twelve year old girl, and when caught and put on trial, declared criminally insane and locked up. It was like I could breathe again! But my mother snapped when this happened. She started calling me names, blaming me for my dads problems, and physically hurting me, sometimes even with a cane, as if she was disciplining me.
Being called names like dirty whore became common, and I learnt how to hide bruises. What saved me then was that there was ONE person who knew everything, Josh, my friend since preschool, and then later my boyfriend. But then something awful happened. I had always told him that I was not ready for sex, due to what I thought were pretty obvious reasons. But then one time, when he was begging, it was terrifying. He suddenly seriously snapped. He slapped me across the face, pushed me to the floor and raped me. when I struggled, he gave hard sharp slaps. I ran away as soon as he got up and although, hetried ttalking into me, apologizing, I refused to listen.
Now I'm 15. Emotionally, I'm more stable than I should be by all rights. I would never even contemplate suicide, and I have already internalized that what happened was never my fault. I have learnt how to deal with my mother, and how to sort out feeling by myself. I think this phrase really brings out what I mean:
I am not abused, the people around me are abusive. I am not a victim of my circumstances. I hope my story helps you.