“In my hands”, that’s what I’m going to do I tell myself, I’m taking this matter into my own hands. I can’t do it anymore; I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. Not anymore. All at once it hits me like a rock to the face, gut and heart. I hear his voice again, I start to quiver I want to run and hide but I know that won’t work, he will find me. He always finds me. Should I scream? What do I do? If I don’t go he will beat me, and I don’t want to hurt any more than I have to. “I’m coming I called “and I was off to play a new game. A game that I knew was wrong, I knew wasn’t going to feel good. I’m scared. As I walked towards his room, I thought of everything I could to get out of playing these games. He calls for me again; I know he is getting impatient And angry now, I better move it along so it won’t hurt so much.
As my brother explains that this is a new game, I couldn’t imagine what could be next. All the games have been “new” and they were all equally as bad. I began to cry, he hates it when I cry he gets angry, yells and hits me. “Shut up!” he screams. I stop knowing the punishment if I didn’t. As he tells me to undress he starts to smile, I’m all of eight years old and Terrified of my own brother, my protector, and my family. I am not smiling I’m slowly dying Inside and don’t know what to do. I go along with it; I don’t think he thought he was doing anything wrong, he liked it too much. As he does unspeakable acts to me he laughs and calls me names, he’s only eleven, how does he know this stuff? These acts continued for a few months and stopped, they just stopped. To this day I don’t know why, I still can’t explain it to myself. What I do know is I was weak, all thoughts and no action. That was until later in life.
At seventeen I moved out and married a man twenty years my senior and in retrospect this man was also a child molester. But I will never forget the moment he asked me why I had
such hate and resentments towards my brother and for the first time I said it out loud. I remember feeling as if wasn’t even me doing the speaking, like I had no control of my own words, “He raped me repeatedly as a child of eight years old”. I will never forget the expression on his face. I’ll never forget how good it felt when the words left my wounded heart and out of my mouth. Years later I received a phone call from a private detective in regards to my brother, I was stunned when this man told me at the same time I was being raped by my brother, he was doing the same thing to the five year old little girl who lived next door to me. I went speechless; I never told anybody about this how could this man know? The little girl from next door had told him of the incident, she had recalled my brother telling her that it was ok because he was doing it to me! All these years she knew, she shared a horrible secret with me that I was completely unaware of. The detective wanted me to testify against my brother in her case and for me to tell him my story. I couldn’t do it. How could I betray him? I knew he had wronged me but should I shame myself, my family? I couldn’t do it, maybe due to low self-esteem, maybe it was some sick maternal love, I don’t know. It was a year later when I finally decided to act; I finally decided to speak out. After a whole year to stew and fill with an anger that I had never felt before I was ready to act. It wasn’t just me he hurt, a five year old? What the fuck! What kind of sick fuck would do that? Not a good and decent person, not a person who had warm blood running through their veins. I had enough; I was taking it into my own hands. It was a cool, cloudy September day, it was the day I began to calculate my plan for revenge; for redemption. I called the detective from a year prior and told him I would be driving
to Ohio in the morning to meet with him. He was completely taken off guard and questioned Me on my change of heart, I responded with “Sir, my heart has...
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