STORY 16
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(names and places have been altered) When I was around 3, my mother died. I think that she commited suicide, but I'm no sure- my family never talks about it, and refuses to answer any questions I ask regarding her. This is not particularly relevent to my abuse, but certinly affected my psyce. My parents had been unable to concive a child 2 years into thier marrige..my father was a real family man, and so he wanted to adopt a kid (thesse details are scetchy at best, I don't know why they didn't see a fertillity specilist- or even if they did- it's a sensitive topic) and so they somehow got adopted a 4 year old boy nammed Jacob..he was white, and must have been hard to get, but then, this was 1973, so maybe not. Ironicly, only two years after this, my mother concived me. She also gave birth to my sister, Katherine and died when she was only a few months old. Jacob must have had something wrong with him- that might be why they were able to get him, even though he was white- he was very violent from a young age, he would suddenly, for no reason, have horrible tantrums. Ironicly, when somethjing bad happened- like me or my sister breaking one of his toys or ruing something he was doing (like little sibling do) he basicly was calm. I don't know what was wrong with him, but my dad wouldn't take him to a psyciatrist, even when his teachers suggested it...something about family pride. Most likely, he had been abused himself by his father, or some male, and that's why he sexualy abused me. It must have been learned- thank God I'm not that way. My dad didn't remarry, but he wanted another daughter...to even things out. He was able to get an asian girl, nammed Cynthia...whe was just a baby. Like all siblins, I had ben gelious when my sister was born- up intill then, I may have been the favorite (the miracle baby, the "real" one, as opossed to the "adopted" one) and was used to alot of attention...but I was able to accept Cynthia since I had already delt with the introduction of a younger sibling..however Jacob started getting vicious. He several times would say he wanted the baby dead, and probably he had reacted the same way to me and Katherine, but I was too young to notice. I slept in my own room- my dad must have realized that it wasn't good for me and Jacob to live together...I was a boring child. I could never be excellent at anything, even though I tried- to make the teachers like me, probably because I wanted a mother figure in them- but I was only average at sports, average in grades, average in popularity- this may soung nice, but it hurt me deeply- no one noticed me. And out of 4 children as a single parent, my dad had very little chances to spend quality time with me alone...probably none. When I was arround 7, the abuse started- Jacob was 1, so he must have started puberty. I don't know if it was really abuse, he didn't beat up on me anymore then other older brothers up untill then... I tended to join after school activities in my prusit of having a psudeo-mother, so we didn't interact that much. I knew he was the troubled one, and my dad often said to him "Why can't you be more like Anthony?"- that may have been the reason he wanted to "domminate" me or something. One night he came into me room and said he wanted me to go into his room with him.... I said I was tired, but he said it was importint...so I did, mostly because my dad had told us to be "extra nice" to Jacob. I got in his room, and he clossed the door behind him. Then he said that we were going to play a secret game...that must be a cliché, but when your 7, it works. He told me he could do a majic trick, and make my penis bigger...now, since I was so young, I didn't understand erections that much, so I was sorta mystyfied when he arroused me by touching me. Then he "taught" me the magic trick. Then he kissed me..which isn't though of a sexual when your that young...and he took off my shirt and told me he was going to give me a massage...I only knew that a massage was when somone touched your back, I has seen free massage sessions at street fairs- so I turned aroung, and he started to feel on my chest. Then he puleld donw my sleep pants and started to try and penetrate me. I asked what he was doing, and he just said it was part of the massage...what did I know? Then he finaly got in, and I screaked in a kid voice. He really feraked out, and whithdrew, and told me to get dressed and go back to my room...he was scarred my dad would come (which was stupid, he slept two storries bellow). Well, I wasn't safe for long...the next night he told me he had to finish the massge, so I went to his room (I must have been really stupid) and took ofmy clothing...then he clamped my mouth shut and rapped me....I don't know how to explain how much this hurt on my littlle body..I was biting his hand, the next day he had marks on it..he said he had falled and scarped it- but he wouldn't stop. He finaly came, and fell on me. Then he withdrew and told me I could get dressed- I felt something warm going down my leg...the next morning, my pajama bottoms and bed spread was stained with blood. I really freaked out, but Jacob had somehow convinced me that my dad would punish me if he found out- so I destroyed the evidance (I threw it in a pond nearby, that was really poulted and filthy) and changed the bedspread...hoping my dad wouldn't notice, or ask where the pajama bottoms I had tossed were. My brother stopped for a few days, during which It really hurt when I went to the bathroom, and usualy bled...I was very scared, and would not go to the bathroom for days at a time, causing constapation. But I finaly healed. But Jacob came back- I told him no. He got really mad, and threw me on the ground.I yelled out for my dad, and Jacob ran. Ironicly, my dad started putting Jacob in charge of us, meaning Jacob had full rein while daddy was gone. His imagination was only outdone by his cruelty. If I refused, he would celtch my testicles untill I submitted- doing permanent damage no doubt. After the epidoses, I would shower untill the bleeding stopped, so I wouldn't leave any trace of this sin...eventualy, I stopped getting wounded, but still took the showers out of habbit. Puberty was really hell. Because I associated arrousal with abuse- I read somewhere that stimulation of the prostae causes errection..I don't know if that'strue. or maybe it was the friction against the besheets, but I always became arroused while being raped- but did not realize this was sexual; in anycase, during puberty, a boy gets sponataious errections...that's embarresting enough, but when they are associated with such horrible abuse- it was really hell. Whenever I had one,I would get really sweaty and nervous- fortuantly, noboy noticed. It was really bad, beacause I developed early, and didn't have anyone to discuss this with, and the sex ed class wouldn't come untill another year. I also noticed looked at girls and being close to them made me aroused- thus I avaoided girls, and was very insecure around them....I am still uncomportable arround the "fems", or looking a sex-charged ads (which is difficult in this sex-charged world), and often am incencere about the needs of my girlfreinds. My brother still would molest me. One time, I ejaculated. This was my first time...so I always associate comming with being raped, or whatever. It's certinly put a real damper on my sex life- I have quite a few dysfuctions that randomly pop up. It's hell. Eventualy, when my freinds began to undergo the change..and talk about sex and all that, I found out that this wasn't abnormal. But I still associated girls with the kinda "evil seductress" attitude.. I also just listened mostly, I never discussed my own sexuality, because I was too insecure. Also, my freinds would often make fun of other guys by calling them "faggots". Now, I had heard the term "gay" since elementary school, but I didn't learn hwat this ment untill around this time- so I though that if they found out, I'd get labbeled a "fag", espceilay because I had ejaculded having "sex" with a man- so it seemed less like rape and more like consentual, homosexual sex. So I clossed myself in. Since I was mediocre in everything, I gave up looking for a mother figure- along with the sexual thoughts towards teacher made this a double adversion. But I kept my garde "average" to keep daddy proud. Also, I began to experiment with drugs. The guys I hung outwith often sniffed glue...I learned that by sniffing glue, I could remove myself from the pain. I quickly became a adicct (or at least, did it alot) and this would lead to latter things, like alchohol and heroin. My brotehr continued to molest me, and more than a few times I would come..so I really started thinking of this as consentual. I started to deperatly have sex with a girl, to "prove" my straitness (ormore that I wasn't a "fag") which was a problem, sinceI had an aversion to girls. Fortunanly, tomboys started to hang out with me and my pals, so I stared getting over my fear of women. I would date thesse tomboys, it was a good match...I can't deal with weak women..ever. Even the "tough" girls can drive me away if I sense any weakness about them- any "femmine" qualities. I was very sexualy aggersive...I think that, in todays terms, I commited date rape, which I really hate myslef over (I've treid to commit suicide on several occasions)..back then, this was just consiterd "scoring". I never would actualy do it if she screamed at me or said "really, no, stop", but I still get the feeling I forced them to somewhat..I hope not. I started to do harder drugs, and date equaly sexualy agressive women. Not unpresdicatbly, my gardes fell. But since I was spending less time with my brother, I was happy. My dad would start yelling at me about all the potential I had, so I started avoiding him too. Jacob hadn't molested me for a year or so when he killed himself- he was nineteen. I thanked God for his death, then thought how horrible it was to be thankfull someone had died- especialy how sad my family (that was ignorant of my molestation) was. I started to hate myself more, especilay when I couldn't feel genualy sad about his death. I turned to more drugs, and started hatting myslef more and more. My school was concered about me, and suggested I go to a school therapest or per councelling- I told my dad about it, and of course, he told me that I didn't need them- that I just ned to pick up my grades. He couldn't accept he wasn't a good enough father to raise kids 100% happy and wonderfull. With my brother gone, I started staying at home more and doing my school work. My teachers were all pleased at how thay had "saved" a punky kid like me, and I was collage bound. But this didn't change the fact I hatted myself and needed drugs to cope. I have no idea how I was using heroin and maintaing a 3.15...I just did. I don't know what the conclussion to this is. I went to collage, started going to a NA group...but I still am very self-destructive and sexualy insecure. I should go to a therapest, but my father's hesinatancy about psycological help sticks to me. I guess I'm living one day at a time.
