Chapter 12: Sexual Abuse
The most common form would be the sexual abuse. Thing is, I still battle to think of it in the “torture” aspect of things although I assure you it is, just I guess a different form perhaps. It was normal. I don’t remember it never being there. It was normal. I was four when I first came to the realization that it must be wrong or that it wasn’t something that happened to all children. That was when I found out I had to keep it a secret. Up to then I never knew it was a secret. But then, I was not exposed to anyone I would of been able to tell so there wasn’t really an issue I guess. Something happened that routine was thrown out for the first time. I did not know what to do all I knew was that I was supposed to be with F and UH and they had not fetched me for what was normal. So I did what I thought was the right thing to do, hurt myself like they did. I did not try hide what I was doing from my mother, it was not a secret, it was normal. I thought. But when she caught me I quickly learnt that it was not something you could just do in the open. Imagine if I had done so and guests had arrived I guess. I did a pretty good job though cause I was taken to the “family” doctor to ensure I had not damaged myself. This is where we have to switch.
How do you word it except for the way it is? I know that from the onset my private parts would be touched, rubbed, stroked. Not in a way that harmed me. Not in the beginning. I know that soon enough pencils were used in me, not to harm me, I do not even think it was to bring any form of pleasure to them, it was a grooming kind of process. I know that after pencils was the little finger. And it progressed. I know that by the age of four I thought daily penetration was normal. I know that by the age of four I knew that if I bled it meant I was had done a good job. I knew how I was to slide myself back and forward when sitting on F or UH laps. I knew it was what was expected. I knew it was what they wanted. I knew that if I did it I would make them happy. And if they were happy they would be nice to me. I knew that I could do something that would make them nice to me. They would laugh with me sometimes. They would tickle me all over. Blowing with their lips pushed hard against my skin. All over. I knew that I was not to cry I was to like what they did. And I was a fast learner. I knew that they liked it when I touched their privates. I knew how to touch it the right way. I knew how they liked their privates to be kissed. I knew how they like their privates to be sucked. How they liked my tongue to be on their privates. How they liked to push their privates into my mouth and hold my head with their hands. The older I got the rougher it got, the harder they penetrated, the more I would bleed. I knew not to cry, I knew to show them I liked to bleed. I knew to show the camera I was having fun, that I liked it. I knew that well. I knew that they liked to have their hand over my mouth and nose when they were about to finish with me. I knew this would happen everyday except the days we went to the building. Those days it would be the man with the tin hat.
I knew that everyday I would be fetched, these “playtimes” happened always at UH, in his sitting room with the camera in the corner. M or AM would be on the camera sometimes not always. Sometimes M or AM would by the ones to “play”with me first.