He's dead... ((May Trigger...))

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Joined: 14 Feb 2010
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 15, 2010 10:47 am    Post subject: He's dead... ((May Trigger...)) Reply with quote

Well, my story is quite long... But let's start.

I was a victim of abuse when I was 4 years or so. I don't have much memories on that, and even though sometimes that's a bless, some others is a curse. Sometimes I wish I was dead to stop all this suffering. My memories are like a slideshow made of some video clips here and there.

**************** I remember going to my house, walking on the street from my parent's shop. It wasn't a long distance, and even though I was little and since I was born had nannies, me and my brother (4 years older than me) sometimes managed to scape our nanny's sight to go back and forth, since my house was just a few blocks from our shop.

To a distance of 1 block from my house there is this repair shop. Our family knows the owners, and they know us... There, worked this guy named JosŤ. As I mentioned, I remember me going to my house from our shop, wearing a white dress. I remember he's telling me to go to this truck lid with a camper shell it was abandonned outside the repair shop. He told me he wanted to show me something and next thing I remember is him trying to convince me to lay on this pile of wood that he had covered with a thick blanket. I see him then laying on the blanket, near the door of this camper and showing me his penis.

I remember also that he asked me to touch him, but from there the images get blurry and next think I remember is me walking back to the shop, really scared. I do not know to this date if he actually did something worse to me, but I want to believe he didn't... Though I'm not even sure.

Fortunately, he died when I was 8 years old. By that time, my parent's were unaware of what he did to me. I remember I was standing in his grave hole, thanking god for sending him to hell. It may be wrong to say it, but I felt relieved, and happy he was burning in slow agony as he put me in a living hell when I was so defenseless.


I never told my parents about this, and it was until I was about 18 that I did tell them.
Actually, my mind blocked the whole event, until I was 7. One day, I was sitting outside the shop, in the sidewalk, and I found a piece of a newspaper and I began to read. It was an article about child abuse. Then it all suddenly came back.

************* I feel embarrassed to talk about this particular thing, and this is the first time I actually write or talk about it so someone besides my parents. In that article mentioned some symptoms, such as wetting the bed during my sleep. I had always wet the bed, and unfortunately this problem continued until I was 13. I'm 25 now, and in 12 years it has hapenned again just once, when I was 20. Fortunately, no-one ever noticed it since I have my own bedroom now.
But when I was little, until I was 16, we all shared the same room, since the 2nd floor wasn't finished due to monetary problems.

Imagine the shame suffered all those years!! My parents were always mad at me, because I continued to have this problem until I wasn't no more a little child. They blamed on me being too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom. I didn't get to sleep in a bed, because I wet my bed every single night. I had to sleep in a hammock, with a potty underneath it. ='( I'm crying as I write all this.

The sad thing is, I remember another incident, when I was about 5. I was again going from home to the shop, when this other guy who worked in a hotel nearby called me and ask me to help him. He had 3 or 4 packages of clothing wrapped inside a white blanket. He told me to smell the clothes inside because he thought they were dirty, though he had just washed it. I remember I bent down to smell the clothes as he touched my underwear from behind and held me against it when I tried to force my way out of him. And there were other guys watching and they just laugh...

And later, when I was 8, there was this guy who get to be friends of my family. He used to go quite often to our shop. He kept following me when I was on my way to the toilet, and he always told me how I was pretty and how much he liked my hair. He would often ask me to sit on his lap when he was talking to my dad or my granpa, without even talking to me.

One day he found me playing on this abandoned building next to the shop. I used to play there the whole afternoon after school. His job was selling clothing, including women's underwear, and my mum had just bought from him some panties for me. He told me he wanted to hug me, so I innocently let him do it. Later the days he would ask me to go there to 'talk'at night, and then he would say that he loved me so much, and that I was his favourite, and that he had just bought this barbie doll for me, as he stroke my hair and tickle my belly... Then he asked me to touch my new panties, and again, innocent child I was, I agreed.

As the days went by he moved from just touching my underwear and all that sick things to touch my private areas. One day I remember I was talking to my granpa on a table, as he reached his feet to touch me over my underwear. What I feel shame now is that at that time, it felt good whenever he did those things to me... =S


Years went by, and I re-discovered my sexuality at the age of 12; as I ran into some of my dad's porn, and as I start reading, I had my first orgasm. I then became addict to pornography, and I couldn't stop. I guess the hormones at that age made their part too. I would then masturbate whenever I had the chance, sometimes even on my parent's desk, even when shop's customers were around and anyone a little bit observative could have seen me.

***********I also had a stage when I experienced (though I didn't go much far, thanks heaven) zoophilic desires. A normal hug or stroke to my cat would cause me to... you know, want to try something strange =S The only times I tried though, was with clothes on, and once I did try to touch my puppy's privates, but I then came back to my senses and stopped.

************ I even had pedophile thoughts when I was 13, and I was to babysit 2 of an friend's children, a 3 year old girl and his 9 months baby boy...
But fortunately I restrained myself when I almost lose it once, and was about to touch him... OMG, I know that's too sick.
Thankfully, I don't know how but I came to my senses right before doing it, and realized what I was doing wasn't normal, wasn't right, and that I should control those thoughts unless I wanted to to become the same heartless animal as those animals who did those horrible things to me. I haven't had any desire of trying any of that again. The simple think of me even thinking on it when I was litttle just makes me nauseous.

When I was 18 o 19, I told my parents about this. It happened one day that they were scolding me and saying I was lazy, and suddenly my mom mentioned the 'wetting the bed' thing. I froze, and I remained in silence for a while. I didn't even planned to, but I couldn't keep it inside any longer.
I told her: You wanna know why I wet the bed until I was 13??
He just stared at me and said: -Why?? I couldn't speak. I felt I was about to faint. My heart was about to blow off my chest.
Then I told them. I told them about Jose, and about the other guy, the one who sold clothes...

So, that's pretty much my story. I still struggle now, and I haven't had a complete sexual relationship, though I consider myself a normal girl, and since I want to find 'Mr. right guy'. I don't wanna be kissed without love... So now I'm seeking for love, and trying to provide unconditional love and care to everyone around me...

Thank you for reading, if you made to this point... Thank you for allowing me to post here and open my heart to you... This is the first time I write my whole story, with all its dark details, many of which not even my parents know their existence, and probably, never will... This is too much for them to cope, I know it broke their hearts when I told them and I don't want to see them suffer anymore.

Let's just hope one day, love will come to cover us all with a bright sky... And this kind of things will never be allowed to happen again.
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