duckyduckie
New Here
First of all, I have been looking for a place to share my story for quite some time. I'm very relieved to have finally found a community where others can relate to what I have been through, as I have never had that kind of support in my life. So I'd like to thank anyone who reads this ahead of time.
My grandparents on my mother's side always had foster boys living with them for some reason, something that I have personally never understood. But for the most part, they were my friends. They were always the roughed up teenagers, the type that would wrestle in the yard, throw the football back and forth, swear at each other and laugh at the insults they came up with. But they were always nice to me. They loved me. They'd chase me around the yard and play with me on the swing. It was sad though, because they'd always end up leaving to go to a different home once we got really friendly, a new boy replacing them soon after.
But there was one in particular that was especially friendly. I was 5, he was around 17 or 18 at the time. He was my favorite though, he treated me differently and spoiled me, and I loved the attention. And for a while, I thought I loved him. I don't remember his name, I don't remember his face, I can't even recall his voice, but what he did to me was forever burned into my mind.
One day, it was just the two of us. My mom was inside with my grandparents, helping prepare dinner, and I was outside playing with this boy. He offered to go play on the swing with me, and I absolutely loved the swing, so of course I happily accepted and went with him. My grandparents owned a farm, so this swing was way out of the way. It was an old rope swing tied to a branch of a huge tree, and a little fort next to it that my cousins had built to hang out in to avoid making the walk back to the house.
When we got there, we played for a while, but eventually he got tired and suggested that we take a break, so we went inside the fort. And that's when things started getting strange. He took me in his arms and held me, started kissing my neck. I already knew I didn't like it, but I wasn't sure what was happening exactly. And I never struggled or protested as he started to touch me, at that point I was too terrified to say anything. When he was done, he warned me never to tell my mom what he had done, and then we went to dinner.
Every weekend from that point on, we would go to visit my grandparent's house. Each time we would visit, he would take me out to that fort and touch me. The same routine every time. Eventually, he decided it would be a good idea to full penetrate me, so he did. Afterwards, I was in so much pain that I couldn't even walk myself to the house, he had to carry me. My mom started finding blood stains in my underwear, and later when I finally spilled my experience to her admitted that she thought my dad was abusing me. I started getting very frequent bladder infections, it would hurt so bad when I peed that I would throw a fit every time I had to and refuse to use the bathroom.
After a year of this, catering to this boy's every whim each weekend I went with my mom to visit my grandparents, he was finally switched to a different home. Despite that I no longer had to go through this torture, the scars were still there. The things he said to me were burned into my brain, the pain he caused me was still there, and no matter what I did I could never find any relief. I started becoming antisocial, I started slacking off in school, I had a very, very difficult time making and communicating with friends. I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the age of 10.
This carried on all through elementary school, middle school, and greatly effected my high school career. I was 17 when I finally told somebody about what happened to me when I was 5, and since then I have been regularly seeing a counselor and a psychiatrist for medication. I'm 18 now, the same failing student I was years ago, going nowhere with my life with absolutely no motivation whatsoever to change myself.
I apologize for ending my story on a bad note and making it so lengthy, and I thank you for making it this far. I appreciate having a place to write and share my story.
My grandparents on my mother's side always had foster boys living with them for some reason, something that I have personally never understood. But for the most part, they were my friends. They were always the roughed up teenagers, the type that would wrestle in the yard, throw the football back and forth, swear at each other and laugh at the insults they came up with. But they were always nice to me. They loved me. They'd chase me around the yard and play with me on the swing. It was sad though, because they'd always end up leaving to go to a different home once we got really friendly, a new boy replacing them soon after.
But there was one in particular that was especially friendly. I was 5, he was around 17 or 18 at the time. He was my favorite though, he treated me differently and spoiled me, and I loved the attention. And for a while, I thought I loved him. I don't remember his name, I don't remember his face, I can't even recall his voice, but what he did to me was forever burned into my mind.
One day, it was just the two of us. My mom was inside with my grandparents, helping prepare dinner, and I was outside playing with this boy. He offered to go play on the swing with me, and I absolutely loved the swing, so of course I happily accepted and went with him. My grandparents owned a farm, so this swing was way out of the way. It was an old rope swing tied to a branch of a huge tree, and a little fort next to it that my cousins had built to hang out in to avoid making the walk back to the house.
When we got there, we played for a while, but eventually he got tired and suggested that we take a break, so we went inside the fort. And that's when things started getting strange. He took me in his arms and held me, started kissing my neck. I already knew I didn't like it, but I wasn't sure what was happening exactly. And I never struggled or protested as he started to touch me, at that point I was too terrified to say anything. When he was done, he warned me never to tell my mom what he had done, and then we went to dinner.
Every weekend from that point on, we would go to visit my grandparent's house. Each time we would visit, he would take me out to that fort and touch me. The same routine every time. Eventually, he decided it would be a good idea to full penetrate me, so he did. Afterwards, I was in so much pain that I couldn't even walk myself to the house, he had to carry me. My mom started finding blood stains in my underwear, and later when I finally spilled my experience to her admitted that she thought my dad was abusing me. I started getting very frequent bladder infections, it would hurt so bad when I peed that I would throw a fit every time I had to and refuse to use the bathroom.
After a year of this, catering to this boy's every whim each weekend I went with my mom to visit my grandparents, he was finally switched to a different home. Despite that I no longer had to go through this torture, the scars were still there. The things he said to me were burned into my brain, the pain he caused me was still there, and no matter what I did I could never find any relief. I started becoming antisocial, I started slacking off in school, I had a very, very difficult time making and communicating with friends. I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the age of 10.
This carried on all through elementary school, middle school, and greatly effected my high school career. I was 17 when I finally told somebody about what happened to me when I was 5, and since then I have been regularly seeing a counselor and a psychiatrist for medication. I'm 18 now, the same failing student I was years ago, going nowhere with my life with absolutely no motivation whatsoever to change myself.
I apologize for ending my story on a bad note and making it so lengthy, and I thank you for making it this far. I appreciate having a place to write and share my story.
