wow. this is hard. My mother had a lot of problems when I was little so i was taken from my home and placed in foster care. I felt relieved...i would be safe. Not many people who grew up in their own homes know the statistics on sexual abuse in foster homes... about 25-30%.
i was one of them. My story seems so small compared to some on this site, but it is importantthat people know. From the time i was 12 til age 14 i was sexually mollested by my foster father, his son and his grandson. Almost every day,at least one of them... usually the two boys. it wasnt just me. it was every girl that lived there.A counsellor told me that predators put themselves in a position to do this to kids. Also since the boys were just 13 and 14, that they probably did this cause it was done to them.
The really hard part is, they had AWARDS for good foster-parenting. To my knowledge, no one has ever told before what they did i am the first. this happened 12 years ago. i called to report them two days ago. The scariest part of all this, having a pillow held over my face... and not remembering anything past that point on that occaision. i cant remember... Was it the final violation of penetration? i dont know. Not knowing if they took that final step in my degradation is a nightmare that i can let go of.
once when i tried to kill myself at 15, i ended up in a hospital... i told some...not much, they sent an investigator... he looked at me and said " by not telling, you are giving them permission to hurt someone else... so now that relentless guilt... guilt to those other children for not telling, and guilt because i know this will ruin their lives... especially for little boys who did something so terrible, but did it because it had probably happened to them. thanks for listening, and btw if anyone has not reported... the guilt of not telling is worse.
I worked at aresturant that my Mom was a manager. It was only one of a few jobs I had as a teenager, but it was by far the most fun. It was a great atmosphere and a lot of teens worked there.
There was a guy that worked there, he was very different from the other guys that I hung out with. He was very tall, his skin was very pale, he had pitch black hair and these piercing blue eyes. He intrigued me. I found him to be mysterious and he definetly had that “rebel” edge to him...just what I was looking for.
We flirted back and forth at work. Our attraction to one another was pretty obvious to everyone else. My Mom wasn’t to thrilled. She thought he was a bit “odd”, but I remember others telling me to be careful, too, that he seemed a bit “off” to them. Kind of “creepy”, I remember someone saying. I just thought he was a “bad boy”, wild and crazy and just what I wanted in a guy.
We partied a few times together, and eventually got to know each other on a more personal level. He was having his own problems at home and so on some level we were able to identify with each other.
He claimed to be part of a cult in our area. There was an old Ovaltine factory that was shut down, that there were always rumors of “Satanic” stuff going on there. He claimed to know of it and had actually been involved in some “sacrafices” and other bazzare stuff. I don’t know that I totally believed him, but he was weird enough that I didn’t really question it, either. He listened to really crazy, sadistic music and I guess, thinking back now, he did scare me a little, but, I was immature and liked to live on the edge and so...I went along with whatever he said.
I remember something happening at my house, with my Mom and Stepfather. What exactly, I don’t remember, some fight between myself and Bill probably, or a disagreement with my Mom. But, I left the house, and went to work I believe, and there told Jack that I wanted to run away. He always was talking about it and so was game when I brought it up. After work that night, I went to his house and we were making plans from there to leave to Arizona in the morning. (He had a friend out there). We were going to first take a train to Chicago, where a friend owed him some money and then head to Arizona from there.
That night at his house, I saw what should have been my first “hint” to just how scary he was. The walls in his bedroom had strange writings on them, in what he claimed was satanic stuff. There was an ax stuck through the wall, with fake “blood” splattered all over the wall and little doll heads, with the fake blood on them all about his room. I guess then, I just thought he was “cool”....in a scary way....
I just wanted to get away from home and he was my ticket out, or so I thought. We took a train the next morning to his friends house (who was actually a guy we worked with) to pick up his money. He lived on the south side of Chicago, in a REALLY bad place.
When we got there we were invited to stay and party, which we were both into and so, decided to stay for a while. The party turned into a week long blur, of beer, drugs and the end of the innocence.
I remember several times during the week wanting to go home...but, being afraid of what would happen once I got there. So, I stayed in that filthy house, with the roaches and food all over the damn place and everyone there high or drunk. It was disgusting and somewhere I never should have been, doing things I never should have been doing or being subjected to.
The last night I was there, was one night to long... Jack and some of the others had left to get some more drugs and booze and I stayed behind, because we were planning on leaving to Arizona the following morning and I wanted to sleep.
I was awaken by banging on the door to the bedroom we were staying in. I had locked it, only because of all the strange people coming and going, I didn’t want some weirdo coming in at their leisure. When I asked who it was, he said, “Jack, let me in”. So, I unlocked the door and started to walk back to the bed. He said, “Take your clothes off, I’m gonna fuck you good”.I just chuckled and kept going towards the bed. He grabbed me and said, “I’m gonna fuck you like the little whore you are”. I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hair and flung me onto the bed. When I went to get up, he pulled a switchblade out and told me to “just take it easy”, that there was no reason to be scared, he wasn’t going to hurt me, just “fuck my little prissy, virgin ass”. He pushed me down onto the bed and cut my panties off at the sides and then put the handle of the switchblade inside me, not forcefully, but taunting me with it.
He bit and pinched my breasts and told me to roll over. When I resisted he acted as though he was going to put the blade into me and so I rolled onto my stomach. He then proceeded to penetrate me anally, punching me in the back, calling me a whore and a little cry-baby. I tried to get up, but he would punch me right in the center of my back, it was taking my breath away. He then rolled me over and went down on me, biting the inside of my thighs and squeezing my breasts so hard, he left bruises. He kept asking me “if it was good” and “why are you crying” and calling me a “fucking baby”. He then crawled on top of me and put my arms above my head, and kneeled up on my shoulders and told me to “suck his cock“...I held my breath and he started thrusting his penis into my face, hard, and I blacked out.
When I came to, he was inside me, saying “I thought maybe I was fucking a dead chic”. He had the switchblade at my breasts and kept asking if he could “slice one for a souveneir”. I remember the tears rolling down the side of my face and the complete “numbness” I felt. There wasn’t any pain then...I “removed” myself mentally from that bed, from that monster...I wanted to die. I kept holding my breath, hoping I would just stop breathing, but I kept waking up.
He stood up over me and asked why I was shaking? If I was cold? He stood straddling me and urinated up and down my body, to “warm me up”. I threw up and he turned my face over into it and penetrated me anally again, pressing my face into the vomit. I didn’t have to hold my breath that time...I just passed out from sheer terror. What I remember next is his fingers inside me, all his fingers, like he had his whole hand in there. I told him to please stop, that I had to pee, and that he was hurting me, that it was burning. He said, “So, piss then.” I tried to get up and he said, “No, piss right here”. Well, his hand was still up inside me and I said, “I can’t”. He said, “Piss right here, or I’ll slice you”. And he kept chanting, “Slice and dice, slice and dice...”, over and over again. I told him to please take his hand out and I would. He did and I did. And he laughed and said, “Look at the wittle baby, pissing in the bed”. He just kept laughing and laughing. And I cried until I had no tears left.
He fell asleep at one point and I thought about getting up and trying to get away, that was when I realized I couldn’t move. I was in so much pain and my head was pounding so hard I thought for sure it would explode. I lay there shaking uncontrollably. I don’t know if I was cold or in shock. Probably a little of both. I looked to the window and could see it was just starting to get light out. Morning had come afterall, taking the darkness away. The sun was coming up...I couldn’t believe after the night of horror I had been through that the sun had the audacity to shine. I looked to wear he lay and he started to stir and wake up. He looked at me and smiled and said something like, “Good morning beautiful”, and started laughing. He got dressed and told me to get washed up and dressed and that he would be back later , so we could leave for Arizona.
I remember watching as he got dressed, so afraid that he would come back to the bed. I was shivering so bad, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I was dizzy and scared and just prayed he would go away. He walked out and I lay looking out the window, listening to the birds sing and seeing the sunshine glistening off the snow, all the beautiful snowy sparkles and I remembered times as a child laying out there making snow angels and catching snow flakes on my tongue and making a snowman with my brother and sister. She was gone...that child no longer existed.
He stole my innocence and my life in one vicious attack. He changed the very soul of my being, forever.
I`m 27 years old, live in Caracas, Venezuela, i took the bus to the city of Valencia to visit my husbands i do that every weekend the bus departed very late so i got to Valencia around 2AM, my husband was waiting for me, It happened so fast, my husband and i started walking towards the car, there were 2 men cleaning the windshiled of my husbands truck one of them had a security guard shirt so when he pulled the gun on me i thought it was a joke i didnt even understand what he told me, i tought he was asking for a tip, i didn`t realize what was really happening, until my husband told me to stay calmed, we were forced to get into our car and to drive away, they made us stop at various cashiers tellers to take money out, then they cruised around some neihborhoods they bought drugs, a drug called BAZUCO they took it and gave it to me and my husband, they took us into a building in don`t remember if it was abandoned or under construction, from there its very confusin! g i only remember parts or like frames of what happened, i remember seeing my husband cry and scream, i remember their faces and the way they raped me, the words.
They gave us money to go home and left.
We went to the police, the way or the most horrifiying things is the waiting period in the forensic medic to make the tests to get evidence of the rape, My husband has been very suportive on the matter, i`ve been called up now, 3 times after a year by the police to recognize some people they think did it, but its about 4 months that i dont hear a word from them, i think they`ll never arrest these men. My husband has been very suportive also my family and friends. even know i try not to be alone i`m terrified of being alone in the house. but i agree, the advice of not being your fault it`s true, at first that`s what i thought, because the way i was dressed and the time i was there. but it`s not my fault i dress and travel at the time i want i`m free to do it, i`m taking control of my life again i think.
Thank u for letting me express myself
well, this is really hard for me because I have not told anybody about this. But here goes....
I was spending the night at my cousins house, he was about 27 and I was 10. He started touching me, and molesting me, then he took off all of my clothes, and put his penis inside me. I was traumitized!! I just stood there pretending like I wa sleep. Andyway he put his penis inside me and started pumping. It heart so bad that tears began to flow. But I just stood there. Pretenind like I was sleep. After he was done, he started to suck on my nipple. Then he went away. I started to cry, and cry! I was raped, what did I do to deserve this? This is crazy!!! Anyway when I went home, I couldn't sit, or pee, and I couldn't talk to anyone. I felt really bad!
It's relief to get my story out. Today I am 23 years old, and I am still hurt by that. I always fall in and out of relationships. I am scared. But anyway I just wanna say that you guys are really good help! You helped me overcome my fear, and let my story out. I know that some of your stories are really bad, thank god you survived! Thanx and bye!