This week's prompt was to write about a treasure that was stolen from you or your character, and what you did about it.
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*warning* the following post is extremely graphic and discusses child sexual abuse in detail. if this is an issue for you, now's the time to jump off the train. i'm serious.
and if any creeps are reading this hoping to get off, i hope you die tonight.
ok.
1971~
my parents are going out to dinner, and they ask our next-door neighbor to babysit me. he insists that i call him *grandpa* al. i already have a grandpa but i like to please.
because my life is already fucked up and i don't need any more problems.
i wake up. my pink flannel nightgown is shoved up to my neck, my knees are spread apart and my underpants are around my ankles. the dog is licking my.....wait. we don't have a dog. i look down at my privates and scream.
*grandpa* al is eating me alive, he must be a zombie. i scream and i scream and none of his shushing shushes me. i'm hysterical and i won't shut up.
because *grandpa* al is performing oral sex on me.
i am four years old.
he pulls up my underpants and tugs down my nightgown. he tells me he came into my bedroom because i was having a nightmare. he says i shouldn't tell my parents about my nightmare, because they'll think i'm a dirty girl.
this begins what will be 8 years of constant sexual abuse, at the hands of my parents trusted neighbor, *grandpa* al.
because once i turn 12, *grandpa* al is no longer interested. i am far too old for him.
he comes over to our trailer at least 2-3 times a week. he eats my mother's cooking and gives my parents gifts on their anniversary and on holidays. he becomes their best friend.
he always wears a motherfucking tie to our trailer. so i can sit on his lap and tie it while my mother cooks, or does the dishes. while she works, he sticks his finger in my vagina and wiggles it around.
he's the reason i know how to tie a tie.
he offers to watch me after school. he gets out styrofoam plates, plastic spoons and coffee mate powder. he pours a pile on each of our plates and we have a tea party. then he undresses me and makes me perform oral sex on him.
i am 5 years old.
he and his wife (oh yes, he's married) own a traveling trailer that they park in the trailer court. many times he takes the key and leads me to the trailer. inside, it is cramped and musty, and in the cupboard are styrofoam plates and cups, plastic spoons and coffee mate creamer. he makes me do a striptease for him while he pretends to be a customer. he calls me a "cocktease" and i'm confused. the word sounds bad but his voice makes it sound good. he gives me a dollar but takes it back before we leave the trailer.
to this day i fucking refuse to eat or drink from styrofoam and i WILL NOT use powdered coffee mate.
i am 6 years old.
he likes it when i strip for him, he pushes my hand down so i can feel his cock. it's stiff and hard and that scares me. i don't understand how something can be soft and squishy and then change it's form. i'm afraid of it, afraid of him. and i'm confused. he says he loves me, and that i'm beautiful. he says i'm sexy, and that my "titties" are so lovely. he sucks on them, and i don't understand why.
to this day, i abhor the word "titties" and refuse to let it be used in my presence. my ex-husband used to love this word. he called chicken breasts "chicken titties", even though he knew why i detested that word.
i am 7 years old.
i become dependent on his "love" for me, the kind words and lack of beatings. i knock on his door one rainy afternoon and his religious zealot of a wife answers the door. her name is leona and she dyes her hair jet black. she doesn't give gifts at christmas and refuses to hand out candy at halloween, saying it's the devil's holiday. she says everybody is going to hell and that god hates us because we're sinners.
i ask if *grandpa* al can come out and play, and she says he cannot because he's in his underwear. i innocently say "that's ok, i've seen him in his underwear before", not realizing that's not normal. she slams the door in my face, and i wonder why she is so angry.
i am 8 years old.
he comes over for dinner one night, we are having spaghetti and meat sauce. while my mother is in the bathroom, he leans over our table and asks me if i've told my parents any of our secrets, and i promise i haven't. he tells me that i'd better not, because if i do, my parents will know that i'm a bad girl who does bad things and they'll stop loving me, and i believe him.
to this day, i still believe him.
he tells me that everything he does to me is my fault, because i'm so sexy, and such a tease. then he tells me that nobody will ever believe me, and that they will lock me up for being a liar and a bad girl. my mother comes back from the bathroom. i look down at my plate and pray she doesn't know i'm a bad girl.
i am 9 years old.
we are in the travel trailer. he is wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and i am naked. he tells me that he will be sad when i start getting my period, because then we will have to stop being sexy. then he lays me down on the bed and tries to penetrate me with his penis, but he can't. i scream and cry and he promises he won't do it again. i bleed a little that night and i wonder if i'm getting my period. i pray that i am.
i am 10 years old.
he comes by less and less. on the one hand i am glad, because i really don't like what he does to my body. on the other hand, i wonder if i have done something wrong, something to make him angry at me. this only feeds into my desire to please at all costs.
i am 11 years old.
we are alone in my living room, and my mother is outside grilling hamburgers. there is nobody to stop him, and yet he doesn't move toward me. i stand next to him and ask if he is angry at me. he says "no", but doesn't look at me. i am uncertain, because for 7 years i have been described in terms such as "sexy" and "tease" and and "beautiful" and "dirty". in fact, i often get "beautiful" and "dirty" confused in my mind.
what am i now? how do i define myself, and how did i become unloveable?
i am 12 years old.
i spend the next 30 years searching for the answer without truly knowing the question.
