A Life of Fear and Silence

Can you remember your very first memory? Your very first thought? Do you ever wish that you could erase some of those very first memories? I live with that wish every single day of my life. I am a 23 year woman living with the fears of a six year old little girl. Let me take you back into my past with the hopes that my memories do not burden you as much as they do me.

"Grandma, why do we have to go to Susan's house? She doesn't have any toys or games." I always fought going over to Susan's house. I was always forced to sit there in shear boredom while the adults had their boring conversations.

My grandma would always reply, "Because grandma is the boss."

My grandma has a boyfriend, named John. My mom told me that my grandma and my grandpa cheated on each other and John was who my grandma ended up with. Everyone liked John. He served in the armed forces and currently runs his own security company. John is Susan's father. He always made it a point to drag my grandma and I to Susan's house on the weekends. Sometimes he drove with my grandma and I, and other times he would just take me.

One day, John and I were driving to Susan's house. Being six years old, my memory fades in and out. I do remember pulling in Susan's driveway and John putting the car in park. He turned to me and smiled that crooked smile he always wore. He then proceeded to put his hands on me. I always thought he was being a grandfather figure to me and trying to tickle me the way a grandfather would to hear the laughter of their grandchild. He would start tickling me under my chin, then on my shoulders and under my arms, he would then move his hands down to my waist and move up under my shirt. As a child, I could never differentiate the playfulness of a grandfather or the disgusting touch of a child molester. As the years rolled by, I began to look back on my memories and put the pieces of my horrid puzzle together.

When I turned 12, I had elected to no longer spend time with John or be alone with him. My family thought that I was being a moody, disrespectful teenager. I knew otherwise.

John was still apart of the family, therefore I was forced to spend every holiday with him. I remember walking through the kitchen on several occasions while John was in there getting a drink. As I walked by, he would reach out and smack my behind. He would laugh to himself, as if that was normal behavior. I was a 12 year old young lady. No way in hell was that normal behavior.

I was never able to tell my family about the things that John did to me. I have always lived in fear of what they would say or what they would think about me. I know that my grandmother would never believe me. Telling her what had happened would ruin her and I's relationship forever. I have gone through my life keeping my mouth shut, but my eyes wide open.

This is my story. These are my memories. I tell them in hopes that someone else out there with horrid memories that they wish to forget, will get there chance to speak freely and unburden themselves. It's never too late to tell your story. I've finally told mine.