This one really made me cry. Some of it borders on explicit but I couldn't bring myself to edit a single word.
Yes I read over the letters and correct mistakes to the best of my ability but i couldnt touch this one.
My name is Christina F. and I’m a survivor. And this is my story.
I was five, living with my mom. my dad was a dead beat but he took us for summers. I loved my dad with everything I had.
My little brother and I were in Alabama states away from my mom (Texas) I was having the time of my life and then it was bed time. My dad made me and my brother share a room with him, same bed too. That night my dad touched me. He then proceeded to rape me from behind. The next day I didn’t go to bed and he found me hidden under the bed of my cousin’s room. He forced me to come to bed where he raped me again (in the front this time) then proceeded to take my brother into the restroom to make him give him a blow job. My brother was 2 ½ years old. (or maybe just turned three.)
The next night I ran and hid again and someone came to find me. My aunt came and tied my arms and legs behind me undressed me and threw me into my dads room. I was raped again and my brother was forced into the restroom again.
I’ll save some horrible details but that happened for a whole week. I was cut inside my va*ina for how many times he forced himself on me.
That weekend my mom and grandpa came and got me. My brother came out saying “Mommy daddy made me drink his pee!” and dad looked up and said “It was apple juice we were just playing around.”
I can’t forget this ever. But the ass hole gave me a disease. And he had me completely torn up inside. My butt had to be sewn up a bit to decrease the flow of blood.
I think the worst thing that happened though was on his court date. I was ready to go with the story and had spent weeks crying and screaming in my sleep over this. But not only did he take my innocence but he pled guilty. I didn’t have the chance to help myself get rid of some of the pain. But who am I kidding myself it’ll never go away.
I know counselors tell you it is not your fault, and I somewhat believe it but I can’t get past the feeling that I’m dirty and used. My father was in jail until I was ten then on probation till I am eighteen.
And God says to forgive but I can’t do that. That man made me afraid of my own brother. I am now 16 and my brother is now 15 and I’m deathly afraid of him. I can’t let another man touch me. And I hate myself. I’ve tried to kill myself many times but it seems God has a sick sense of humor.
From then on I haven’t been the same on the inside or the outside. I used to be a happy go lucky tomboy. Nothing ever fazed me. But after that summer I refuse to wear dresses. I wear baggy clothes and hoodies. During our hot summer heat you could find me wearing a black hoodie and a long undershirt and black or dark fatt jeans. I can’t show anything at all.
When it came time to start high school I was scared at the amount of guys going to be there. I can’t help myself. I hide. Yes I do have a boyfriend but it’s sad to say he is the ONLY one I trust. I barely trust my mom. I don’t trust my brother. I don’t have any best friends I trust ( not even girls because of my aunt) I hate myself even more knowing I can’t trust anyone.
Thank you for reading a cowards story. I can’t handle it anymore. I just want to kill the man whole stole the five year old sweetheart. People say I have changed. And I have. They say I used to be the sweetest, funniest kid around and yet here I am cold and dead inside.
I almost pressed delete. But I feel that I can do this one thing for myself.
Thank you Ary for this chance for all of us to tell our tale and feel bold once again.