AND SO IT BEGINS
I can remember that is was a typical summertime evening at my aunt and uncle’s house. We usually went over there about once or twice a week and I would run upstairs and play with my cousin because he always had the newest, coolest stuff. I was about seven years old and he was nearly five years older than me and it was so cool that I could be in a “big kids” room! I would get to see what big kids play and talk like big kids talk because it was only my cousin and myself. I honestly can’t remember how it started, but the earliest memory that I have is the two of us on his top bunk and him telling me that he is a police officer and I am the “bad guy.” He would hold me down by my arms and lay on top of me touching my penis and rubbing his body against mine. It didn’t feel good and I couldn’t find the right words to tell him to stop. I felt so scared because his room was at the top of the stairs and he always left the door open. I just knew someone was going to walk in and find us and how would I explain this to my mom? I knew that I wanted to go home but I didn’t know how I was going to face my mom when I walked down the stairs to go leave. I didn’t want to tell ANYONE, HELL NO! How would I explain to them what just happened when I don’t even know what happened? I think those incidences lasted a total of three times over that summer, he later found a girlfriend and was spending time over there whenever we would visit. I never put myself in a situation with him that would allow that to happen with him AGAIN throughout my childhood.
As the summer ended I was enjoying hanging out with neighborhood friends and being a typical second grader. One of my favorite friends to hang out with was my next door neighbor who was the same age as myself. He had a playhouse and a HUGE slide in his backyard and a ton of Nintendo games; what more could a kid want? He had a brother that was about five years older than us and would often hang out with us as well. Eventually, my friend would run off to do other things and I would be left alone with his brother. There were MULTIPLE instances of abuse with his older brother and myself and this is where I was required to perform oral sex for the first time. I HATED it! I always knew that when there was a knock on the back door it was probably him wanting me to come out and “play.” I can even remember a time when after he was molesting me in their backyard playhouse I had put my shorts on backwards. My parents called me home for dinner, I distinctly remember it was a special treat because we were having French toast. My dad looked down at my shorts and asked why they were on backwards. I didn’t know what to say, I knew if I told him it might help stop the abuse but I also could tell by the tone in his voice that I would get in trouble. “Gosh, I must REALLY be a bad kid and doing something wrong,” I though. After that incident, I avoided the neighbor kid like a plague. Whenever he would come over, I was “sick.” I spent the rest of that summer in the house and didn’t want to play outside. How could I ever face him? I think he eventually got the idea and I didn’t see much of him after that summer. Eventually, they moved away and the abuse ended.
TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL
Starting my third grade school year after that crazy summer was extremely rough. I was wetting the bed nearly every night and I just felt like I couldn’t control my emotions at school or at home. I was put in therapy because I was told that I had “ADHD” and was medicated. I had a birth mother that was nearly non-existent in my life and I used that to my advantage. I became depressed and thought of suicide more often than not. At school, I was the most hated kid in class. I was hyper, inappropriate and confrontational. I was constantly getting into trouble and I was just miserable inside. I would go home “sick” from school nearly every single week. I needed some comfort, I was so confused and couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t able to control myself. I would trip kids in the hallway, get in trouble, punch kids in the arm, get in trouble, say a cussword and someone tells the teacher, get in trouble. I was starting a cycle for my fellow students to dislike me and I would later realize that you just CAN’T afford to do that in a small town with nearly 2500 in population.
IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SAFE
As I carried on through the third grade, slipping into a puddle of desperation for the right kind of attention I couldn’t help but feel like there was no hope for me to overcome these emotions. I was a “bad” kid and attracted the wrong crowd. Every day before and after school we would go to a baby sitter. I HATED going there because she was mean, her husband was a dick and her son was a total creepster. She did have a pool in her backyard which was a fun time during the hot Illinois months. Unfortunately, her pool was covered in the shade so it was ALWAYS about ten to fifteen degrees cooler than needed to make it a comfortable experience. I can remember a time that I was on the deck and getting ready to tip my toes in the water and give it a good “test.” No sooner had I bent over the edge that I had felt a swift kick in the rear-end with a large boot. It was her fat-ass husband pushing me in the freezing cold water because he felt that I was too big of a “wuss” to get in myself. Within seconds of me entering the water I felt someone grab me from behind, drag me to the bottom of the nearly five foot deep pool and hold me there with a foot on my back. Of course, I panicked and couldn’t help but think, “this is how I am going to die. . .my parents aren’t here to save me from drowning.” I used the best method of survival that I could think of and grabbed and pinched whatever I could. I could feel a hairy leg and so I grabbed whatever miniscule amount of hair that I could and I pulled and pinched and eventually was set free. I came up for air, wiped the water from my eyes and saw the baby sitter’s son laughing hysterically at me like he had just finished performing the greatest prank ever. “You fucking dickhead,” I yelled. “I almost fucking died you stupid cocksucker!” I didn’t even think about the language that I was using, I just started yelling and screaming and wanted him to know how close to death I really thought that I was. Well, his mom, the babysitter, didn’t appreciate the language and thought that I needed a time out in the piping hot shed in the back yard. I agreed with her logic of needing a timeout but really, in a shed? It was like a boiling furnace in there and every time I poked my head out it added more time to the clock for me to stay in there. Eventually, I subsided and sat on a stool until I realized that I couldn’t hear the other kids outside anymore. No sooner had I realized the silence than the door swung open and there was the babysitter’s son telling me that he needed to fix his bike which was in the shed. All that I wanted to do was get the hell out of the heat so I walked towards the door to leave and he asked me to help him for a second. I agreed, I figured I needed to do something nice so I wouldn’t suffer as bad of backlash from his mom when I went back in the house. He pulled his bike down from the wall and I quickly scanned it over and realized that nothing look broken on it. He pushed the pedal around a little and made the chain roll over the gears, probably to make himself appear like he was “fixing” something. He then asked me if I wanted to see something. As a curious little boy I quickly obliged and he soon pulled open a few cabinet drawers, reached down in the bottom and pulled out nude magazines. I wasn’t really very interested in what he was showing me but I pretended to think it was cool and he seemed to feed off of my feigned interest so he pulled down his pants and began masturbating. I had NEVER heard anyone use the language he was using to describe his genitals and what he was doing to himself. I was so uncomfortable, I didn’t want to watch but I got the feeling that he expected me to. So I stood there and with my mind in a totally different thought, pretended like I knew what he was doing. He quickly grabbed my hand and made me touch him, which he seemed to enjoy even more. I felt so awkward looking at his face, how could he like what I was doing and I could hate it so much. My mind started racing to experiences that I had the summer before and couldn’t help but wonder at that moment thinking, “how did he know?” “How could he have known that someone else had already tried this with me?” “Maybe its how I walk, or talk, or maybe I’m just too dumb and I just can’t say ‘no!’” This pattern with him continued for the next three years and I was coerced into oral sex, anal sex, and even hearing his disgusting ideas of what he wanted to do to the other kids that went there before and after school. I was paralyzed with fear from him. He would often threaten the lives of my parents if I ever told anyone. On countless occasions he would punch or kick me as a good measure to ensure that I knew he was serious. This one was by far, the worst abuse I had suffered a child. Because of what he had done to me I was embarrassed, threatened, and made to feel hopeless from the escape of him. How could I NOT feel hopeless, we were trapped there for an hour in the morning and nearly two hours in the evening until our parents came to pick us up. I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault. All that I had to do was tell someone and it would all end, but how do you have that conversation? That was always my problem, I thought too much!
AND IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN
I can remember the moment of clarity for me when I knew realized that I had complete control over my actions. I was in fifth grade and still behaving VERY badly at school. I had just gotten over a bout of mono and was ready to take to the school and unleash all of my pent up aggression that was being starved from the sickness. Our grade school and our high school were separated by a large parking lot. We only had a cafeteria at the high school and had to walk across the parking lot and be led by Jr High “patrols.” I was feeling very excited that day and someone told me to go around and ask the girls if I could pinch their butts. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea, because I would have been too chicken to actually do it, but I went around and thought it would be a funny thing to say. Well, no one saw the humor in it and when we returned from lunch a lot of girls had come forward and told the teacher and I just had that sinking feeling that she wouldn’t find it very funny either. We had two fifth grade classrooms and the other teacher, a man, found out what I had done and decided that he needed to be the one to implement my punishment. He quickly grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, slammed me up against the wall of the hallway and continued to tell me that, “. . .this is how prisoners behave. You had better get used to it because if you continue to behave accordingly, you will find yourself in a prison cell.” It wasn’t the words that really got to me, it was the fact that he was so close to my face I could smell his aftershave and the remnants of what I would assume was tooth decay. After he was finished screaming at me, he then went in to each classroom and told all of the girls that if I EVER asked to pinch their butts again, they could kick me as hard as they wanted in my balls. That wasn’t exactly something that I wanted to overhear and so I felt a complete wave of embarrassment sweep over me and I vowed to myself to never let anything like that happen again. Another amazing miracle happened that year. My mom lost her job as a nurse and we no longer had to go to the babysitter! Its funny how after I no longer felt trapped and forced to endure sexual abuse that I became a well behaved, teacher’s pet type of student and from my sixth grade year on through high school I never had another bout of insubordination and I learned to keep my hands to myself!
WHAT’S DONE IS DONE
While I was a going through my total make-over and becoming the “New and Improved Ray” I had to make some tough decisions. I had to prove myself to everyone over and over again because my behavior was bad for so long that my classmates and teachers didn’t trust that I could keep it together. While I was no longer the annoying little boy, my classmates still viewed me as such and weren’t willing to try out the new Ray. It was tough, I became very reclusive and wanted to prove to my parents that I wasn’t going to do anything “bad” so stayed home all of the time so they could see I was a good kid. This plan didn’t work out well either because when I did decide to go to a birthday party or walk around town with friends they made such a big deal about it that I became embarrassed and didn’t want to do it again. I didn’t actually come out of my shell until my junior year of high school. I started joining clubs and organizations and found that participating in events and interactions with the school made me feel needed and wanted. . . and accepted! My last two years of high school were great, I became close friends with a group of girls that understood me and I them. I was prom king, what an absolute surprise! I was also awarded service awards for all of my community service! I was recognized for my GOOD instead of my BAD!
All in all, it all turned out okay. . .
Edited by ModTeam (07/18/11 03:27 AM)
Edit Reason: Trigger warning added.
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