Before I was born, my biological father....let's call him Chris, convinced my mother to have her tubes tied. I was not wanted. So she did. But somehow, I was conceived anyway and I was born on November 12th, 2001. I'd like to say I had a happy childhood , but that would be me lying to you. So I'll tell you what really happened. I was sexually abused by Chris. He would take me into the bathroom during bath time since I was 1 until I was 4, and touch me. He would use a washcloth and scrub my private part until I'd bleed profusely and cry and scream. He'd put his hands on me outside of the bathroom too. This continued for almost 4 years. I'd beg him to let me bathe myself but he wouldn't hear it. I thought it was normal.
The thought disgusts me to this day, what happened. My aunt was the one who reported him at first. We were at Disneyland and we told her everything. My mother left Chris. We ran away when he was at work and, sparing the boring details, took him to court. We fought him for 6 years. But it ended poorly.
Oh, and I should mention. The remarriage. Lets call him Brian. He was nice at first but over the years, he's become condescending, insulting, treating me like I'm stupid because I developed mental problems which made school hard to complete, and my mom joined in. Back to court. The verdict? We had shared custody. I had to visit Chris every month for a week. It made me miserable. I cried for months. after hearing the verdict and every time I had to go up there. It put me in a shell I couldn't get out of. And the reason for it was because a woman on the jury knew Chris personally (because he was her pastor, shocker, right?) and ruled him innocent and everyone else who tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn't hear it. And don't worry. On said visits, I stayed at his parents house which Chris was unfortunately a walk down the street from. He tried to hug me, speak alone, build a relationship which I obviously completely refused.
After around a few months of giving Chris hell, denying him, he said I didn't have to return to the visits and that was that. But things weren't much better at home. Brian began becoming violent. And a few years later, we moved into the house I live in today. And he's the worst he's ever been. I've been suicidal, had depression and anxiety disorders and I have a good chance of the main thing being OCD. I thought about taking pills and running away. I've cut myself, slept all day, not left my room, you name it. Now here I am at 18, My stepfather is more violent than ever, my mother threatens me, she's slapped me over small, random things, not to even mention the fact that I'm bisexual and my family is severely homophobic.
And I'm still not over everything except the initial hurt. Forgive the rough details. I haven't thought about it in so long, at least, I've tried not to. My life has been really hellish but I'm going to be moving out soon. Very soon. I'm going to college in a few years. Everything that's happened wont go away and I know that, but I'm going to start therapy sessions after I move out.
Maybe it'll all be okay. Just maybe.
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