My story is long. From what I remember, it starts at age 3. It maybe have been going on longer, as I have nightmares of my uncle raping me at age 2. I don't know if there's any truth to the
nightmare but it feels so real.
Anyways, back to what I do know.
Brother1 would come into the bathroom every night during my bedtime bath and make me touch him. It would continue in the bedroom where he was to get me dressed for bed.
I remember after the third time (what I remember to be the third time) he told me to tell him no next time.
The next night, I did what he asked. But he begged and begged and begged and just wouldn't take no for an answer. I was confused. Why would he tell me to tell him no if he wasn't going to listen?
I do as he says and this time he says he wants to take it further. My mom walks in. She catches him red handed. She calls her mother, who hates me, and she tells my mom not to do anything. My mom called the cops, there's a restraining order put on him, he's put in jail for the night, and taken away from my mom.
Cue the abuse from brother2. He blamed me for brother1's actions towards me. He blamed me for brother1 being taken away, he blamed me for brother1 getting caught. He blamed me for our family falling apart. He wished death upon me, he told me mum should have had an abortion with me(something she has admitted to trying to do).
He abused me physcially, psychologically, sexually. He beat me down till there was nothing left. He would lure me into the woods with his friends and let his friends have their way with me. He would kick me, bite me, punch me, bend my limbs until they almost broke. He didn't view me as a person. He viewed me as his property, to do with as he wished. As a baby when he acted this possessive, my mom found it cute.
This didn't stop until my ex moved in with us when I was 14.
We moved every 3 months while my mom bounced from guy to guy when I was a child.
She let the guys she dated beat us and belittle us. One guy read my diary infront of the entire family. My mom didn't stop him. I said mean stuff about him and his daughter.
I was beaten and grounded.
Another time, I swore in my sleep calling the sisters stupid little bitches (I was 9). I was beaten and grounded.
Another one of my moms ex's abused me sexually, along with his brothers.
I was 11 when he shoved his hands down my pants and grabbed my pussy.
I was 11, 12, 13 when he would come in to my room to give me $20 for jerking him off while I slept. He kept his porn in my room. I walked in on him masturbating on my bed. He just smiled at me, completely naked. His brothers would stroke my legs and make inappropriate comments.
I've been called a liar for speaking out about my abuse, I've been beaten/gas lit/and yelled at for speaking out about my abuse.
Roaming the roads from 1am-5am felt at the age of 12-16 felt safer than being home.
The abuse didn't end when I left home.
I ended up in an abusive relationship. He wasn't violent with me but he raped me every day for 3 years. He guilted me into sex, into letting him touch my body when he saw fit, he didn't care I was in pain, he didn't care I had a chronic illness. His bad days at work were validation enough from him to blow up at me over every little thing. He spilled milk, it was my fault for not telling him the cap wasn't fully on. We had mice, it was my fault for buying food with whole in the packaging. He gas lit me and his friends every day. His friends left me alone with him. They were no longer his friends and they knew how he treated me but they didn't care.
No one has ever care about me enough to save me, until I met my hero. He is now my fiance and we have a beautiful baby girl. She's the reason I'm speaking out.
No matter what life throws at you, you can still have a happy life in the end.