My mother dated a couple other guys after she began to heal from her failed marriage to my father and none of them worked out until she met her husband, we will call him D. At first I wasn’t happy about him, in fact, I hated him. Not because he was mean, not because he was mean to my mother, but because I felt he was trying to replace my biological father…as if that would have been a bad thing.
D was kind enough, he was pretty mellow and even liked cartoons like my siblings and I did. I finally got to the point where I didn’t necessarily hate him, I just was uncomfortable with his presence. His daughter who we will call H was another story. I could barely stand to think of her, she was mean, nasty, and was constantly getting into huge trouble and then trying to make me her scapegoat. She stole, she snuck boys into the house, she smoked cigarettes, she smoked Mary Jane. She was the definition of what I didn’t want to be and the way she treated my mother pissed me off intensely.
What I didn’t know at the time was that H was the least of my worries when it came to her family that was suddenly becoming my new family. D’s brother’s son who we will call A came into my life. I think that it was a family gathering because A and his dad had come into town from a different state in which they lived. I thought he was really nice at first and we got along pretty well. I couldn’t have been more fooled. Soon, when he visited he started going out of his way to be alone with me. He started kissing me and telling me to kiss him back. It made me uncomfortable and caused the voices inside to go insane. I couldn’t hear anything around me they were so loud inside.
A continued to force kisses on me every time he visited and even tried to get me to lay in the bed downstairs with him to do something I feared was sex…something I didn’t want to experience. I kept telling him no, and that I didn’t think what we were doing was a good idea. After I voiced my feelings he started becoming increasingly cruel. He would continue to force himself on me but then ignore me and even make fun of me to H and their cousins. They told me I was an ugly man trapped in an ugly girl’s body and I was retarded. Their words hurt, and for some reason him not spending time with me hurt and made me angry.
I hated what he would do to me…so why would I almost long for it when it was gone? Did I believe that I deserved to be used like a toy? Perhaps so…until recently.
Finally I had enough of the abuse, and after a few years of this I was basically forced by one of my two best friends, N, to tell my mother about the abuse. When I told her, she was instantly livid. She notified D of what A had been doing to me and D brought it up to A’s dad. To my horror, he called me a liar and soon my already crappy relationship with D’s family became torture. Everyone looked down on me and didn’t believe a word of my story, until A ended up doing something similar to his cousin J. Hilarious how no one cared when it was me, but as soon it was one of their own, every one dropped everything to protect her. All that taught me was that I was sub-human, not worthy of happiness, protection, or validation.
What was left of my innocence was beginning to take serious hits.