The Second Story

This is the second story I’m going to tell in order to try and help the people who go through sexual assault. One of the most common difficulties that we face is the way people treat us because of what happened. The point is, no matter what ANYONE Says, it was NOT your fault. If you’re someone who has a family member or friend who has been hurt in this way, I hope you learn something from this story about how to treat them. The people around us can make or break our healing. This is my sister’s story. It was really hard for her to tell it, but she has in hopes that it can help people who have been molested and abused like her.

“I think I was six when this happened to me; it was at a friend of my parents family’s house. There were all these adults, so my little brother and I decided to go play with the 10 year old son of the family, Elliot. First, while we were innocently playing with toys, he asked me to sit beside him on his bed. He asked me to go under the covers –I refused and went back to playing with my 5 year old brother. I didn’t know what he was doing. A few minutes later, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom. He shut the door and locked it behind us. He took me into the shower and started kissing me, with his tongue in my mouth. I tried to push him away, I kept asking him to stop. He started touching me, everywhere, pushing my clothes out of the way. I was crying and asking him to stop, telling him ‘no’ but he kept saying “Just a little more, just a little more.” It went on for so long, or it seemed that way. I don’t remember how long exactly he kept me in the shower. My mind blocks out a lot of what happened I think. He finally let me go. I was crying and so scared I just went and sat outside the room a bit while he just kept playing toys with my brother. After a little while, I went downstairs and told my dad that Elliot had kissed me. He told Elliot’s mother what had happened, she tried to force her son to apologize but he laughed and ran away from her. My mom noticed something was wrong. I remember her pulling me into the car, and screaming at me about what had happened. She asked me what had happened, she asked if he had pulled down his pants, if he had pulled down my pants, if he had touched me, where he had kissed me. She was screaming questions at me, I was so scared because I was in trouble. I kept saying “I don’t know, I don’t know.” She became more and more angry. She screamed at me for being alone with him. My mom found out from other mothers in our neighborhood that similar things had happened to two other girls around my age. No one did anything to punish or stop him. After it happened I became curious about what he had done to me. I began to touch myself, not knowing what it meant or why it made me feel the way it did. When my mom caught me doing this, she pulled me into the bathroom and started screaming at me. She spanked me, and asked me repeatedly “Where did you learn to do that?” I just answered that I didn’t know, that I didn’t mean to. She began to make sure my hands were never around that area, when I sat down at the table my hands had to be above it. She made me sleep with my hands above the blankets and folded over my chest. I wasn’t allowed to sleep/cuddle with my brothers or sister or go to sleepovers because she was afraid that I would touch other people or teach them how to do it –that I would corrupt them. I got in trouble whenever she found me alone with anyone, I wasn’t allowed to touch anyone without asking her first. I got so afraid once when my cousin kissed me on the cheek, because I thought my mom would punish me. I had nightmares about him hurting me again, about the same thing happening to my family. I believed I was evil, for touching myself and for following him into the bathroom. For years I felt so guilty and alone, because I wasn’t allowed to talk about what happened or tell anyone. She threatened to punish me if I told my siblings or friends. When I was 12 I told my older sister what had happened. We cried together and hugged for a long time, and it made me feel really good. Before I felt completely alone because I couldn’t tell anyone. No one could help me because I couldn’t be helped. I never wanted to be kissed again, I hated and didn’t trust any guys. I was terrified of being alone with a boy again, I never wanted to be friends with them. Telling this story is really painful, but it’s important. When I began to tell people what happened I began to heal because I’m learning that I’m not evil, and trying to accept the fact that it wasn’t my fault. Sometimes I still feel so guilty. When I tell people, the most important things that they can say that help me are that God loves me anyway, that I didn’t do anything evil for him. He feels everything that I feel when I feel it. Sometimes people make fun of me when I tell them, and that really hurts. He hurt my life, but I want to heal from it. I want to help people who are hurt by their parents or others they tell. I want people to know they’re not alone, even if they feel completely isolated. They don’t have to go through it alone, it always helps to talk about it. It’s the only way to get better. Everyone always says that this sort of thing happens for a purpose, and I believe that’s true. One example is that, 7 years after what happened to me, my sister went through something similar. I could understand what she was going through, and she could understand what I went through. It helped me so much when we stood together on it. That’s why I want to tell my story here.”

If you would like additional help and support you can email us at phoenix_alias@hotmail.com or look at the websites that are listed at the end of “This is My Story”.