My whole life from age 6 to 15 was one big blackout. No, I wasn’t in a coma.
But I did wake up one morning a completely different child. This new girl wasn’t anything like the bright-eyed, joyful, sweet and joyous girl who never doubted herself.
I had passed out one day and woke up a revoltingly angry, insecure and broken person.
I cannot say if I still felt like a child and I couldn’t remember why. Maybe I could. Perhaps I just blocked it out so fiercely.
You know, now that I am writing this, I remember. Oh! I do and want to share.
I think it’s because the long years, time, and acceptance have helped me to embrace my memory.
It’s all clear to me now. Crystal actually.
The secret hideouts where we would hurdle up. I was mostly on my back and he was on top. The usual routine.
He would stop me from playing with my siblings.
He would take me upstairs
He would fondle me
And he would do things that usually involved him taking off his shorts.
We did this for a while when no one was at home or paying close enough attention. How I loved the secrecy and thrill.
Imagine me, 6 years and already having sexual escapades. I grew up too fast.
After he left our house, it stopped. I was a young girl again.
But the distance and time didn’t stop those feelings in him. Whenever we met up, we would do it again.
Each time I felt like trash after it was over. Each time I looked at my siblings in their eyes and feel like the child who would ruin the family.
My anger grew. With it, I had control. I had it all figured out, you know?
Avoid all forms of an intimate relationship. That way I didn’t have to deal with anyone else touching me because they felt like it.
Somehow I managed to grow into a complete woman. Barely.
Yes, of course, I put an end to it. Fed up with the secrecy and touching, I was.
I didn’t owe him my submission or myself gratification. So I looked him in the eyes and said no.
He smiled and said "very good". The bastard, he did this to me and now he acts like he just cured me?
Anyway, I was free. Not entirely.
It happened around my 2nd semester in college. A video of a suicidal girl triggered me.
I stood outside my house and cried until my sister found me.
After much prodding and pleading, I told her the reason why I was the damaged, emotionless and insensitive machine I was.
My uncle, my mother's brother who she had put in charge of her 5 children. He molested me as a child. I felt so ashamed and guilty that I couldn’t tell anyone.
That man was just a predator parading as some sort of father figure to us. He would make family decisions and act all perfect whenever my mother was around.
But when she was away, he would do questionable things to me. You know, now I never understood why he picked me.
What is it about me that screamed "have sex with me, even though I was your niece" to him. More than 15 years now and I still didn't get an answer to that question.
I never mustered the courage to ask him why he did that to me. I won't lie, I am hoping something horrible happens to him.
I was so young and I had all these things in my heart. Being the odd child at home didn’t help matters.
Everyone would say it was my fault or probably wouldn’t listen.
But do you know what my sister did? When I told her.
She held my hands, looked into my soulless eyes and told me that it wasn’t my fault and for everything that happened to me, I became the strong woman I was today.
Maybe she is right. Although to tell my mother this story would mean treading on a dangerous path.
I guess I have to keep this family secret a secret.
I do hope though that my error didn’t reduce my worth.
My storm is calm now and my soul is free. The snare is broken.
