Over and Over (TW!) ****Trigger Warning*****
I spent my 8th birthday giddy while living with my fathers mother and her roommate. He and my new stepmother went a few states over to find a new place to live. I missed them. I went into the roommates room as i couldnt sleep; i watched him play grand theft auto vice city. He told me to scoot down, that he couldnt see. He kept telling me further until i was in front of his privates. My birthday present was being molested. My sister told the school he was molesting her (she was 14) and noone believed her. So i kept my mouth shut. We then moved states but she came back to this state a year later.
When i was 10 (after successfully convincing myself my sister was dead) we came back to this state, and moved back in there. I was promptly raped until we moved.
When I was 12 or 13, my "best friend" played a "prank" on me. She told me her cousin wanted to rape and kill me and that he was stalking me. I prayed for it to happen. I didnt want to live anymore. My home life was ****. I believed this for years that he was coming for me.
When I was 16, i was molested on the school bus on my way to alternative school (i had gotten in trouble and would stay there for a semester) and thankfully the next day and forward throughtout, noone was allowed to sit together (10-13 students on the bus. If that.
When i was 18 alot more home life was drenched in gasoline and burned whilst "i dont give a ****" was screamed from the streets of a crumbling society. I moved again (continued)
edited by dancingRainbow45 Deletion of word against guidelines using **** 10/07/2017
(Continued)
I moved up a state to be with a guy I barely knew that was my escape from a bad place. We went at it like porn stars for a week before suddenly it all but stopped. We would play beer pong etc etc. My nightmares began again. But... it was because he began to rape me in my sleep. When i was drunk, hed rape me elsewhere..painfully. if you know what i mean. I eventually moved back home.
Here i began to give up, i began to be a whore. After a month of it, i met a guy. Twice. Both times ended badly. I walked away with his initials in my leg and purple/swollen hands and feet. After this, i began to wet the bed.
Recently..i met a guy. We talked for hours. I drove him home (his car was totaled). He insisted that I stay, because I looked tired. I began to freak out. Holy pepperoni did i freak out at first. And i made a decision in the back of my mind that if he touched me or even tried to, i was done. I was offing myself. I was in the floor but sleepily crawled in the bed. He held me all night. He still does. When we make love, i dont feel dirty afterwards. We are both learning how healthy relationships work. I havent messed the bed as much, and have never messed his and i end up staying there half the week.
If not for him..I would have killed myself.
But im typing this.
@AllThePrettyLittleFoxes
Your story really is one of hope and good being there in the end. It doesn't diminish the awful experiences you've had to cope with, but it does highlight that none of us ever know what's around the next corner, and unless we move forward, we never will know. I am so glad you found your place of happiness. Believe in yourself and that you deserve that happiness, and enjoy every lovely moment of it. Thanks for sharing :)
