Sometimes it’s family.

For the first time in my life, I’m opening up about something I promised myself I’d bury. But I cannot let it go. It was my brother. It lasted for eight years. From the time I was 6…to 14. He is only two years older than me. By eight years old I was being forced into having full blown sex with him. My entire childhood is blocked out besides the nights he would sneak in my room or make me come to his. I see his face when I close my eyes and feel his disgusting hands on me to this day. I tried speaking up twice. No one did anything or believed me. I was labeled a liar. Here I am, six years after the fact. And I’m still that scared little girl. I can’t get over it. It replays in my head all the time, so much that I don’t remember anything but the bad from my childhood. He ruined my life before it even started. My family believes him, despite his drug use. Despite the vibes he gives off. He’s a disgusting human being and I wish death on him daily. I will never forgive him. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive my parents for not protecting me. I was a woman before womanhood. How fuckin traumatizing is that?! I’ve always felt so alone. So silenced and unheard.