Tess (evenstar_brego) wrote in _survivors_,


This is my first time posting on here, so I'm a little nervous. I'm not very good at talking about what happened, but I figured I'd give it a shot since I dropped out of therapy after one session.

Basics first: I suffered at least eight years of SA by my sister's boyfriend (when it started) and it continued after they were married. It's only stopped in February because I finally realized what was going on. But from the time I was eight until I was sixteen, I was abused by him.

I'm essentially an only child. As mentioned, I have/had a sister. She's nine years old than me and we never really got along. She really hated being around me. But then her boyfriend, who seemed like a goofy kid to me was kind and understanding and spent time with me. He acted like I was his little sister. As a kid I thought it was great that this high school student would pay attention to me when my own sister wouldn't.

That's how he roped me in. He gained my trust when I was a defenseless kid who didn't know better. Then he started spoiling me with gifts. His first Christmas with our family, when I was barely nine years old, he went all out on me. Big cardboard boxes of gifts just for me. I could've hide inside these boxes. He also bought and built my first computer and went to the effort to put a background with horses on it and also program all the clicks and sounds to be horse sounds.

There are a few strange moments I remember from being a kid, but they're so brief I can't analyze them. Plus he moved out of the house with my sister early on and I didn't see him very much for a while. Before long they moved several states away and he tried to get me to stay with them for a few weeks or what not. I never went, thankfully.

When they moved back up here after a few years of subtle abuse, it escalated. I was fourteen then and my sister and her new baby moved into our house while they tried to get their own place. He was always around when I got home from school and I was excited because my "brother" was living with us. I'd hang out downstairs and we'd watch TV in the evenings while I helped care for my nephew and he'd take me out to dinner and shopping and all kinds of stuff.

I thought it was great until he kept always making odd, sexually-related comments either about me or other people or just seemingly random comments. They were strange but I always wrote it off as it being him. We all did.

The shopping became a nightmare as he tried to dress me in clothes that were too small for my body and encouraging me to show off skin. He'd praise and belittle me at the same time and I still looked up to him like I had as a kid. I didn't see what he was trying to do. He also bought me perfume that he liked.

When they got a house it grew worse. Now that my mum wasn't always around the corner, it was quite often just me and him. I'd come and spend the weekend and help babysit my nephew. You see, he has a bad temper and none of us liked leaving him alone with Kyle when he was stressed out. My sister worked in retail and did a lot of night shifts and worked all weekend. I would stay over to help with Kyle so he wouldn't get angry at him. Also, they were in the process of fixing up the house so I was basically the assitant. Plus, it got me away from my own parents. 

It was all fun and games for a few weeks until he started touching me and becoming my "teacher" to educate me in dealing with teenage boys and what they do. I didn't understand what he was doing because I wanted to believe this was my brother and he was only trying to protect me and that he'd never hurt me. 

Did I mention that he was a good foot taller than me and at least 150 lbs heavier? I didn't stand a chance.

He'd pin me down always, crushing my chest so that I could barely breathe, let alone think clearly. And he always smelled of cigerettes -- he's a smoker. The worst came in the evenings when I was exhausted and lying on the couch in my pjs half asleep. My pjs consisted of oversized flannel pants and t-shirts with usually a sweatshirt pulled over because I was cold. Nothing seductive.

He'd start with asking me what's wrong with me and then he'd start getting angry when I said nothing was bothering me. He'd keep insisting that something was on my mind and that I was lying to him.

I  would get physically ill if I told a lie before this. I learned to lie and manipulate him to keep him from getting angry. I could even fool him a bit. But that didn't last long.

As he got angrier he'd move closer to me and make me sit on his lap or something similar. My memories are hazy since I tended to dissociate at certain points and forget what happened by the morning. He'd end up kissing me and pressing me against the couch.

He tried to rape me on the couch one night with my sister sleeping upstairs and my nephew a few feet away. It was only because I faked pleasure when he was on top of me with our clothes still on as he moved against me that I escaped being raped. I was always completely at his mercy until he let me go to my room, where I'd lock myself in and try to calm down. Every morning I wake up with the last night forgotten, so I never told anyone.

He's not just a sexual abuser, but he emotionally absues the people in his life and physically abused his kids. He was never gentle with them, which is part of the reason I'd stay there so he couldn't hurt them. My sister denies that he physically abused her, but I know he emotionally abused her. He always was good at intimidation.

Not to mention that I was afraid for my life. He could've killed me so easily on those nights. In fact, I know if he'd succeeded in raping me, he'd have been forced to kill me. His games worked as long and he played this "I'm your brother" game and danced back-and-forth over the line between appriopriate and abuse. But when I started to be suspicious, he'd just back over the line.

In January 2007, I made a critical error. I was at my friend Kate's house and I wasn't feeling good. I knew he was still awake (it was 3am) and talking to people usually made me feel better. Kate was asleep and I didn't want to wake her up. So I called him on my cell phone and we talked and he kept offering to come get me and either take me home or let me crash at his house. I e-mailed him directions from my laptop and he came and got me.

In the car he kept making sexual remarks and made me jumpy. I couldn't wait to get home. When we pulled up in front of my house, I needed to call the house phone so one of my parents could let me in. He told me to wait for a few minutes and tried to talk me into going back to his house and staying there.

I knew something wasn't right and I'd regret going there if I did. I knew it was better just to wake my parents up and stay there than go with him. I insisted that mum would be mad enough already and it was better for me just to go home. 

It wasn't until my memories started to flood back a few weeks later that I realized why I was so uncomfortable and that while I wasn't concious of it, my body was trying to protect me and get me away from him. I know his intentions now. Because at this point, I hadn't stayed at his house in a while and I was supposed to be moving far away in a few months. He was very angry at the idea of me moving away. (Three guesses why...)

If he'd gotten me to go with him, I know inside that he'd have raped me that night. If he'd done it, I'd have freaked out and he'd have killed me to shut me up. He'd have gotten what he wanted and he wouldn't risk me telling. And since all Kate knew was that I climbed into a truck, she wouldn't be able to say for sure if I'd gone with him or someone else. He could've lied and said it was my boyfriend or something and denied having been called at all. He could have easily disposed of my body and tried to play innocent. And he might have gotten away with killing me.

And here I am, eight months after when I should've died. 

Oh, I guess I forget to mention that I saw him several times a week to drop off Kyle and Austin (his two sons) after babysitting them three or more times a week after school. Almost every night I'd have to go with my mum to take them back and I'd see him and he'd make some comments. I never wanted to go and see them and I got angry with mum for her making me go. Not to mention that it kept me up really late because it interrupted my homework. Most of it was because I had to see him. I alternated between searching for praise and anger at him. This is all my reflections on it--I definately wasn't sure I didn't want to go see him at the time.

Anyways, my memories started coming back in February and I stopped sleeping for a week because I was terrified. I thought it might be SA so I told two close friends what I could remember and they pushed me to speak to someone at my school. I did and she brought in my mum and told her, who took  me to a therapist so I could get it reported. From there I had to speak to the two worst people in the world at CPS (Child Protection Services)--my case worker and a police detective.

They dragged their feet for months before even speaking to him and the detective actually tried to get me to make a phone call to him that would be recorded during which I was to try and get him to admit what he did. The entire idea sent me in a downward spiral.

Not to mention they were both very rude people.

Naturally both my parents freaked and dad was angry at me for not saying anything and so was mum. She kept pressing for me details and to this day can't believe I didn't trust her enough to tell her what was going on--she doesn't buy that I didn't remember it or that it started when I was eight.

Mum eventually told my sister, who was upset and supposed to come back and live with us. Then she started to not talk to mum as much and said she wouldn't make the move back home. She visited us twice and I saw her the first time.

She barely said two words to me the entire time and the kids acted like they didn't know me, but they sure knew my parents--even my dad who they didn't see as often as me. And to make matters worse, my sister was wearing both her wedding ring and engangement rings. My sister rarely wore either of them, let alone both. She should've been decent enough to leave them in the truck.

I was on the phone crying to one of my friends before she came, totally freaking over it since mum gave me no notice that she was coming. She picked me  up from school and was like "oh, by the way, your sister and the kids are coming by around 4pm". My friend calmed me down enough to go see the kids, I freaked and came back upstairs. I cried a lot and later that night after my parents were asleep, I tried my first suicide attempt. Actually, I was trying to pick between strangling myself with a scarf and slitting my wrists. I called my friend to say good-bye and she talked me down.

I tried several other times, including holding my head under water in the bathtub to drown and wrapping things around my neck to strangle myself. This went on for some time before I was really upset one night and wrote my friend an e-mail detailing how I could kill myself and the problems with each way. She printed it out and took it to school, who called my mum in, and suggested that I be hospitalized.

I was on suicide watch at home for a few weeks and I wasn't allowed out of the sight of at least one of my parents. I also wasn't allowed to see any of my friends, which made my depression worse.

I had trouble sleeping because of flashbacks, memories, and general fears. He'd essentially stalked me for eight years. He knew where I live, where I went to school, where I worked (I was forced to take two months off to recover), my schedule, my parents' schedule, the layout of the house, all my contact information, and everything about me. It would've been so easy for him to find me and kill me before I ruined his life. I'm very surprised he didn't. I lived in fear of him for several months and I'm still afraid.

I have to share, but I'm going to stop now because I'm feeling ill and my hands are shaking.
Tags: abuse: csa, memories: repressed, suicide: attempted

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