I have never written anything like this before so please bear with me. It all started when I was three years old my dad and I would always go out to my grandfathers at least 3 to 4 times a week and some times more just the two of us. My grandfather would buy me all the pop and candy that I could eat and drink this was a kidís dream comes true then my grandfather and my dad would spend the rest of the day getting drunk. When my dad was drunk and out of his mind sometimes passed out thatís when my grandfather would make his move it started with his touching me and playing with my genitals he would always end it with this is our little secret. I donít know how long this went on before he moved on to doing other things and the truth is I donít want to ever want to know. I can remember many times crying for my mother because of the pain this just made him mad he would start screaming at me to shut the F##K up and when that didnít work he would get on top of me and put his hand on my chest and start pushing down till I couldnít breathe but he moved on to better ways to shut me up later. He moved on to using duct tape he would tie down my hands and sometimes my mouth when I was crying to loud or moving too much for him. This went on for 2 years I believe but I canít before for sure itís hard to remember dates or even how old I was when youíre that young. The only thing that saved me was he lost his mind and had to spend the last year of his life in mental hospital and thatís where he died. I keep trying to tell myself maybe he was losing his mind when he was doing these things and thatís why he did this but I know better than that. I found out years later that there were others over the years how many I donít know. My dad didnít grow up around his father so I guess this must have saved him. After all this happened I buried what happened as deep as I could but no matter how deep things go they will always come to the surface given enough time. So time went on and my father was not into having sex with children but he was into beating my mother my brothers and me. There was times growing up that he would beat my head off the dresser in my room and then get on top of me and start strangling me to the point that I would start to black out and sometimes I did. There were more than a few times I really thought that I was going to die. Children service got involved in or family and I was sent to live with my motherís parents who were good to me and my brothers. It was nice not to have to try and hide from my father and to feel safe for once but all good things come to an end and back I was sent. The thing is my brothers and I was too scared to say anything and my mother would never say anything because that was her man. Latter on around 14 or 15 a man from church started to become my friend he was nice and wanted to spend time with me witch I thought was great. But I remember there was times when he would look at me that made me very uneasy. After about 7 months he didnít want anything to do with me witch had me asking what did I do to upset him? He started to run around with someone about a year or two younger and a lot smaller than me from church. I found out years later that he had been raping that young boy and others. I think that the only thing that saved me form him was my size and that I was starting to look like a man. I have gone to my grandfatherís grave a few times over the last 32 years he has no tombstone or anything no sign that he ever lived a fitting end I guess forgotten and unloved.