I have very few explicit memories but my story speaks for itself. After 30 years of denial Iíve decided not to stand in its way.

I was the happiest child in living memory. I loved life and everyone on the planet. I would skip to school whistling folk tunes and was still the envy of my friends. I ranked first equal every time in polls held by the girls. I was the first to give up my seat on the bus or stay late after school to clean up the class. I would invite the lonely kids home to play whom others would shun. At the end of the day I went out of my way to say bye to everyone in class. Sometimes I would bike to school. Little did I know I was being followed on the way home but thatís how he found where I lived. He was a teacher from another school and, working in a science department, had access to chemicals and other strange things.

One summer night when I was 11 or so I woke to find this man in my room. He was tall, bearded, about 40 and wore tight jogging shorts and t-shirt. I felt entirely relaxed. I asked him who he was and what he was doing in my room but he didnít reply. He paced the room while I watched, paused to check on me now and then and finally started climbing out the window. I felt sorry for him and offered him the front door but he vanished without a word.

I told my parents the next day and they were puzzled. Why was I so at ease if there was an intruder in my room? (Because I was high on chloroform). We looked around and found drawers open and underpants scattered over the floor but this meant nothing to us back then (I wasnít the tidiest of children). Being religious, my parents prayed for guidance and felt that I was being visited by a higher being, perhaps an angel. I was pretty excited about that. The next time I woke to find the angel in my room I tried to get him to talk, hoping to learn of his mission but he just paced the room as before and left. This time I told my parents straight away and they came into my room and noted a strong chemic smell. Mum observed that the permanent markers by my bed had no lids on and we assumed this was the cause. (Did he take their lids off to throw us off track?)

Over the coming months I was visited repeatedly at night by this stranger. I woke up, he left, no big deal, or so it seemed. Visits became so regular that after a while I stopped telling my folks. My story at the time was that he always left and nothing ever happened. To this day the first two visits are crystal clear and he certainly left. Later on I remember waking up and finding him in my room but donít recall anything after that.

The true nature of my visitor became apparent when one day my best friend rushed over and told us of his brother whoíd been molested by a stranger in his room the night before. The brother woke up to find the man touching him and was paralysed with fear until the man pricked him with a needle. At that point he jerked and the man fled, leaving behind, of all things, a pair of forceps. Thatís when it finally dawned on us. My visitor was no angel.

We locked the doors that night and slept in my parentsí room while dad stayed up with a shotgun. Nothing happened but several nights later I woke to the sound of breaking glass. I gave the alarm and dad chased the intruder up the road. If only dad had had his shoes on! Anyways, the police were called and my story, along with those of several other boys, finally hit the papers. The perp gave himself up shortly after. He got two years in a mental institution. The investigation revealed he was visiting at least four boys at night and using chloroform to knock them out in their sleep to have his way with them. My pillows were taken to a lab and tested positive for the presence of chloroform. Heíd been using it to knock me out in my sleep. We never found out what the forceps were for.

At the time it never occurred to me I was being abused. I showed no signs of harm, had no memories of abuse and firmly believed that I always woke up and he always left. Within 18 months though I was a different person. I entered a deep, relentless depression which lasted decades and bore the darkest shame imaginable. I felt Iíd committed heinous crimes and that everyone could see this just looking at me. I was extremely self-conscious and anxious around Ďnormalí people. I lost the ability to focus and communicate effectively. I developed compulsive behaviours and addictions. Age 25 I cried every day for a year without explanation. I developed a massive hatred for my dad. Petty vandalism was routine until I ended up in the docks. My adult life has been marred by a twin fear of failure and success and has gone nowhere. Everyone close to me says I have all the signs of an abused boy.

No memories, just a boatload of issues and a long-standing nightmare of being in a haunted attic. Recently though I had a new dream: babysitting a boy who was abused while sleeping inÖ a haunted attic. I joined MS and started questioning my past though the absence of memory stopped me from facing the truth. Then it hit me. If nothing happened between me and the man, why did he visit me repeatedly over such a long period of time? Something must have been happening to keep him coming back.

Since then I have had a visions, dreams, smells, sensations, revelations, minor miracles, all of which leave me in no doubt that I was an abused boy. If he was knocking me out with chloroform, naturally I would never remember. This is the painful truth I am learning to live with. It is difficult, unbearable at times and I mourn everything I lost but I would not go back to living in denial for anything.

Edited by ModTeam (05/06/15 04:50 PM)
Edit Reason: Added trigger warning to title