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No child is born bad, they just imitate their atmosphere. Yelling, pushing, screaming, fighting. All things you want to prevent your child from being exposed to. Yet when that's all a household does, it seems ineffable to even try to shield them from their surroundings.
I grew up in a two bedroom house with about seven other people. This number kept changing, due to the amount of children my mom continued to have. My father was in one room, while my mom and all my siblings stayed in the other room. Our household was very unstable; There was only one steady income and that came from my mother working between two and four jobs my entire childhood and she wasn't home much. My father on the other hand was home all the time. He was, at the time, a drunk and abusive person and had never held a job for more than a few weeks. But then again, his family was more dysfunctional than mine. When I was nine-years-old, one of my relatives on my fathers side came from Venezuela to stay with us for a while. He was really close with both my father and my mother for their entire childhood so to them he was more than just family. I didn't know any of my relatives outside of my immediate family so I welcomed him with no problem and tried to get to know him as much as possible. For a while things were going great.
About a month and a half later, I stayed at my grandmothers house while my dad and siblings went to a funeral and we didn't have enough seats in the car for everyone to go. My grandmother lived right across the street from me, my fathers uncle and I walked across. My grandmother went to sleep early and my uncle asked if I wanted to go with him to get ice cream. Now, before that moment, me and my uncle had never been alone before and I had a weird feeling in my stomach, so I said I wasn't hungry. He got mad and took me outside and into his van. I was too afraid of him to say no, after all, he was practically a stranger to me. With tears rolling down my face he ordered me to take my clothes off. I screamed no and tried to crawl under the seat but he grabbed me before I could make it... He hit me so hard I blacked out, when I woke back up I felt excruciating pain... I was screaming for my life, while he was molesting me in the basement of my own home. I was in shock, I thought I was going to die. I was afraid he was going to kill me. When he finished, there was blood running down my legs and I was too afraid to speak... He took me back into his van and told me to stop crying and brought me to an ice cream shop, Baskin Robins. With tears in my eyes and blood still running down my legs, he left me in the car while he got ice cream. When he came back he threatened me till I swore I wouldn't tell anybody and took me back to my grandmothers. Since then, I have only seen him at rare family unions, but little did I know that wouldn't be the end of it...
Six years later, at the age of 15, I had entered into my first relationship. About six months in I had invited him to one of my good friends sweet 16 birthday party. My parents didn't really like the fact that I was dating so he insisted that we take different cars. When I got there he was outside waiting for me. He was dressed in an amazing tux with a purple tie. He looked great. We went to join the party for about an hour. When everyone was done eating and singing, we left and went to the park that was right behind the building. We were smoking, talking, and he was drinking. We were having a great time; After a while, he started to kiss me and laid me on top of a table. Still kissing me, he crawled on top of me and lifted my dress up while taking off his belt. I stopped him and sat up on the bench and asked if he had a condom. He simply replied with "No but we don't need one baby." I told him no and tried to walk back inside. He grabbed my arm and bent me over the table, holding my arms down. he tied the belt around my hands and took off his tie. I was screaming for him to stop and he tied it around my mouth so I couldn't scream. I was crying uncontrollably and tried to get free. I was fighting for about 10 minutes before I gave up. I had bruises all over my legs and arms from struggling. He finished inside of me and took me back inside. I was stupid enough to stay with him for another year after that because I was in love.. and for the longest time I thought that incident was my fault.
Now until this day i haven't spoken a word of this to my family or anyone. It took me about five weeks to write this because of how painful this story is. From sharing my story with all of you I hope to inspire young men and women being sexually abused to do what I have always been to afraid to do.. Speak out about your abuse in attempt to create a bigger picture of a world where children don't have to be fearful of the unknown. From writing this i am not looking for attention or to be pitied. I want to call for a reform; I want this behavior to be changed. I want people to stop blaming the victim or coming up with excuses for the attacker. Thank you so much for reading my story.
P.S. to the people who were emailing me asking, my account has been set up, so you can now wire your donations through. Thank you all :)