TW: Sexual Assault/Attempted Rape
It’s still hard for me to admit, and come to terms with the fact that I was in fact technically raped, even though, and I believe this, I was still intact…
After my suicide attempt, we had moved again to an area where my dad didn’t know the police there. I no longer had a basement bedroom. We moved to a single level house with a finished basement that could be used as a second living area. My younger brother and eventually my uncle would have the basement area. Upstairs, at the back of the house, was three bedrooms. The master, which my dad and stepmom shared, I had the middle bedroom, and my kid sister had the third bedroom. The sexual abuse would pick up more often again, since I was now closer. I still slept with a knife under my pillow. I am a very light sleeper, and I don’t believe my dad ever went into my kid sister’s room. Like I said, for the longest time, I thought I was the only one. My dad would often come into my room or call me over to his. I really didn’t want to continue this. I remember my brother almost catching me, and I had to lie about it which made me feel even more ashamed, that I was doing something wrong.
*Lord guide me and keep me*
TW: GRAPHIC/VERY DIFFICULT TO TALK ABOUT
During one of the nights, I had off. My dad came into my room and said, “we need to talk”. He would mention to me how I was neglecting him, and that I didn’t love him anymore because I wasn’t spending as much quality time with him as I used to. He was trying to guilt me into doing more. I told him, I still loved him, I just didn’t want to continue doing what we were doing. For a very long time I didn’t want it to continue, (I was upset when I found out I wasn’t getting the basement…) I knew that I would have to be close to my kid sister, I didn’t realize this, but I was protecting her from him. I would have easily drawn his attention on me, had he gone after her.
One time, I remember during one of the nights my dad came into my room, he was especially rough, he wasn’t “nice” (Lord Jesus calm my spirit). He wanted what he wanted, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. I wasn’t going to try to fight him. He had me get naked, and he wanted to perform oral on me. I thought that would be it. I didn’t think he wanted more from me, but he was a bit more determined. I think he had a feeling something was going to change. When he was done, he wanted more. I don’t remember where the others were at this time… No one else was home.
*Jesus, this is so hard to type. Lord, if it’s your will, let me type this out.
He was on top of me, naked from the waist down. He was rubbing himself on me. He was so heavy. He put a lot of his weight on me. He would often hold my arms down or grip my hair in his hand.
I was so afraid. I was afraid of suffocation. I was afraid of full penetration…
He tried several times to penetrate, or attempt to penetrate, and I was adamant that he does not do that. He was getting upset with me because I kept telling him “No” too much. I was so scared that I started to cry, silently, and I was beginning to panic. He was still on top of me, and I remember I was unconsciously resisting him, and he slapped me. He slapped me because I was “fighting” him too much.
*Lord my chest hurts… Keep me in your presence Lord.
He would eventually have me lay on my stomach and he would rub himself in between my backside. He had his hand on my neck, holding my throat, and I remember I couldn’t breathe, I forced myself to concentrate on my panicking, so that I could relax enough to breath. He eventually let go, and I had tears streaming down my face, I was still silently crying.
He finished. He finished, in between my legs, and kissed my head, and said “good girl”, and he left. I remember laying there for a few minutes, and I cried. I truly didn’t know how to feel. I was mad because I didn’t fight back as much as I wanted to. I was disgusted with myself because of what he had done. I was so tired, mentally. I believed, he would eventually fully penetrate me. I was afraid that he would kill me if he really wanted to, if I angered him too much…
I remember I was going to try to save evidence, but I didn’t know how to really do that. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be able to get out. I do remember I packed a “go bag”. If I ever needed to run, I had an escape route. I showered, and scrubbed, and sat in the tub and just cried. I prayed and I cried, and I just felt hopeless. I didn’t want to keep going like this.
I feel so nauseous… I’m going to rest for now…