Before I Was a Survivor Part Three

About the time the foster kids moved on, my mom got a job to pay for my sister to go to pre-school. She worked at a grocery store on the weekends. Saturdays weren’t so bad. We’d play and hang out with my grandparents. Sundays were a different story. Dad had Sundays off and we would stay home with him. We’d wake up, then my sister was told to go downstairs and watch cartoons. I was called into my mom and dad’s bedroom. I tried a couple times to get in the bed with all my clothes on. Dad would say, “You know that’s not what you’re supposed to do.” So, I’d take off all my clothes and lay down next to him. He’d touch me, and encourage me to touch him. It never seemed right, but again, I didn’t really know what to do. I’d go to school and Sunday School and smile and act like the perfect kid. I was smart, got good grades, and never caused a problem for anyone.

One Sunday, dad decided it was time to escalate a little bit. He decided to try digital penetration, which is the nice way to say he raped me with his finger. It hurt so much! I screamed and he put his hand over my mouth so my sister wouldn’t hear. When he was done, he told me I’d better get up and take a shower to get ready for church. I wanted to stay in the shower forever.

When I got to church, the Sunday School teacher was asking us what was going on in our lives, asked if we had any problems we’d like to discuss. I thought, “Lady, you don’t know what real problems are.”

I knew I had to tell my mom. I thought my life was ruined already, but I didn’t want the same thing to happen to my sister.

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