Eva1917 Member Profile

...See more Hello everyone, So, when I was 8 years old (I think) me and my brother got intimate. He was 12 at the time. I don't remember how it started but I remember not really minding it. That day, my mom found us and basically she had no other choice to make us believe(I'm guessing) it was something normal between siblings. Bad, but normal. For a few years I believed that and "forgot" about it. When I reached 12 years old I started thinking more about the past and I felt uncomfortable with my brother. I talked to my mother about it and that I wanted to go to my father's (they got divorced) but she shouted to me that I wanted it, that it was normal and that I couldn't go to him. I obviously didn't go, since he was a piece of *** anyways. But after a few years, when I was 15 and he was 19, we grew closer and became friends. We behaved more like siblings than before. It was nice, but every time I was with him, I couldn't forget the past. It was like a silent reminder. But then, a few years passed and I realised that he might have sexually assaulted me and what happened, wasn't really normal, like my mom said. I grew up thinking that all the siblings shared a dark past with each other. At school, a lot of siblings would be really close and comfortable with each other, and I would think "why aren't they ashamed? Why don't they feel disgusted?". I was 17 when I realised something was wrong with my family, not with theirs. I eventually talked with an AI robot and in the end of my story, and after a lot of discussion, it asked me: would you ever do that to a kid if you were as old as he was? I realised that I would never do that or even think about doing it, but my brother did. My brother is a lot of things. No, he's not a criminal, a racist or sexist. But he has a bad character even if he seems good at first. I don't want to talk to him anymore, but we have this fake relationship where we pretend we're siblings who care for each other. It's also really hard to cut ties with your relatives. I despise him. I'm disgusted by him. But I'm disgusted by myself as well. The first time we got intimate, I think I wanted it. I remember him trying to...give it to me from behind(sorry for being graphic), saying he saw that in a porn video, and I remember not wanting it. I eventually gave in, and he tried it. But I was too small and his *** was too small I suppose. He couldn't get it in. But he tried to get it on the front as well. I think...I think he managed that. Not much, but I think he did. Overall though...we kissed and we said that we loved each other. I thought of myself as being in a romantic movie. God...I feel so disgusted and stupid. The second accident was later on, we were alone again and he wanted me to give him head. My innocent mind didn't want to do that because, well, that's where we pee, and he wanted me to lick it? I didn't want to. He wiped it with baby wipers, he even put one on top of it so I would feel better to lick it. I did it in the end, but quickly stopped since I was too disgusted. He was disappointed but didn't say anything. We were keeping it a secret from our parents after all. Nothing happened since then. Nothing I remember at least. My memory is always really ***, especially about my childhood. I know he's at fault for this since he was my big brother, but every time I hear someone's story, sharing how they were assaulted when they were children, how every single one of them would cry, beg for help, or fight, I will think: why is my story so much different? Every other survivor they say they fought or they cried and begged for that person to stop. Some of them were younger than me. Some of them were older. But in a way, they all share the same story. Yes, we all react differently. We have different stories, but why do I have this constant feeling that I'm not innocent either? I was little. I was too young to really understand the consequences of our actions. It looked nice and easy in the movies. I didn't understand the pain, the shame or the guilt I would feel afterwards. In a way, maybe my brother thought the same as well. I think he's much worse than me though. Trying to have sex with your little sister while she's still in the elementary school isn't exactly excusable. He was my big brother, he should have known better. He should've protected me. I don't like him. Even if all this never happened, I wouldn't have liked him. He's obsessed with himself. He only cares about his life and no one else's. I finally understood that when we got out at some point (our first time hanging out in town alone) and the entirely time he talked about himself even though he knew I was really depressed with school (that's a whole other subject, but I'm feeling much better). But the thing is, he was a kid as well. Just for that I should forgive him, right? We were stupid and didn't know or cared about the consequences. Why is it so hard then? It's hard being around him. It's impossible for me to wish him well. Every sound of his voice makes me wanna vomit. I hate holidays or his birthday. I hate anything that makes me hug him. Having his body touching mine - even just for an innocent hug - feels like glass cutting my skin. And the worst thing? I can see him when I look in the mirror, when I hear my voice, my laughter or when I just move sometimes. We coexisted in the same house for 19 years, and we also share the same blood, the same genes. I will always be a reminder of him no matter how much I try to forget him and the past. Unfortunately, our finances aren't that good for therapy and people always will tell you that you should be more open with your thoughts and feelings. So, I'm here, trying to be open. Thank you for listening. Have a good day/night, y'all. -E

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