The Sexual Abuse

 

Many say that those being sexual abused will most likely be abused by a family member or friend. Abuse wouldn’t happen by someone random and this would be true. I was abused by someone who I considered too be both family and a friend. Biologically he wasn’t, but I was molested by someone I considered an Uncle. Currently I have known him for almost twenty-eight years. I don’t remember life without him in it in some way. For sixteen years he was a constant figure in my life. For the last ten plus years he has become a man (if you want to call him that) I once knew. The memories I have of him were once happy until the day I realized what he was doing too me was wrong.

The earliest memory I have of the sexual abuse starts in 2001. I was ten going on eleven years old that year. If anything happened before 2001 I don’t remember it. I was at an age where body started developing. You know a young girl growing breast, a figure starting too form, growing hair where I didn’t know I could grow hair. He was always nice to me, and he always paid attention to me but, when all that started happening he paid extra attention and became extra nice. I didn’t think anything of it because I was ten. I trusted him, and it was normal for me. Nobody else didn’t think anything of it because it was just normal, it was who he was.

Now this is where it’s going to start getting a little more graphic. It’s not too crazy especially compared to getting into this further but it will get a little more graphic but only briefly.  

I was around him for various parties, certain holidays, and random a get together.  The a get together were almost every weekend. Occasionally during the week depending on what was going on. So, I did see him a lot. When he was around he would take any chance, he could to get me alone. When he did manage too get me alone it didn’t take long for him too start touching me. He would touch my breast and my vagina. Sometimes he would focus on my breast first then my vagina or vise versa. Other times he would come up behind me, so he can position himself too be able to touch both at the same time. Kissing me on my neck would happen a lot. He gave me a hickey once. I didn’t know it was called a hickey at the time. Too me it was bruise on my neck and I didn’t make the connection at the time. I think about a year two later I found out what hickeys were and how they appeared.

I realize I’m constantly using “HE” so I’ll give him the name Bob. Now of course Bob didn’t just stop at kissing my neck or touching my breast and vagina. Bob would kiss me and stick his tongue in my mouth and he would move his hands too my butt squeezing it. He would move his hands up my back pulling me closer too his back. Too this day I still smell his cologne and beer. More times than not he would make me touch his penis. Some days he would make me stroke his penis with my hand other times he would put it in my mouth. Bob would have me keep going until he ejaculated. Many may ask what if someone caught you guys? He was good at stopping whatever we were doing if he heard something. We could’ve only been alone five minutes or thirty minutes. If he heard someone coming he would stop.

I think something inside me felt uneasy about what was going on like it was wrong. But I was young and naïve. It became a routine over several years, so it was normal at the same time. I had told my parents once but all they had him do was apologize. I felt like they didn’t believe, he still came around and the abuse continued. It did eventually stop in 2006, I was fifteen going on sixteen that year. I was also graduating eighth grade that year. Eventually I told one of my teachers and I was finally being heard. But nothing really came out of being heard in the end police wise at least. They investigated but despite Bobs admission they said there wasn’t enough evidence. Crazy right? The only good thing that came out of it is that the sexual abuse stopped.

My relationship with my parents was different when I felt they didn’t believe me. There is a difference between them though. My mom made effort to change early on. Even too this day we still have our moments of course but she changed. My dad asked my permission too still be able too hang out with Bob. I told him no. My father being, my father despite me saying no he kept asking and asking. Until I eventually just gave up and said yes. We don’t talk anymore, and he’s done a lot of other stuff too warrant me not too talk too him anymore. But even if he didn’t do anything else still talking too Bob is enough for me too stop talking to him.

I think what’s still hard even too this day is sometimes I do miss it. It’s not the abuse or bob it’s the routine of having someone that close too me. Whether the circumstance was good or bad. I don’t want him back in my life and I don’t approve of abuse. It’s like having your mom make doctors appointments for you all your life. Now as in adult you have too do it and it’s a new routine you have too do it yourself. That might be a horrible comparison, but I think that’s one we can all relate too.

Even after the sexual abuse stopped it still has big effects on me too this day both good and bad. Hope you will stick around.

 

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