It all started when I was six.
A nice, friendly, beautiful young girl as people used to always call me, I was just starting to get comfortable.
Yes comfortable, because I was I the new girl of the family – well my father’s wife’s family – I had two new brothers, one young and the other a couple of months older.
She wasn’t nice to me (stepmother) in her own ways because she would make her kids hit me or play fight but she wouldn’t let me hit them back.
I don’t remember when it first happened but I surely can still feel it, I hated and still hate myself because I feel like it was all my fault. Of course, it was mine, but I was too big and my waist line was small and my big round eyes with curly hair was too hard for any man to resist. I blame her because she was supposed to protect me, she was supposed to teach me to not let any men no matter who it is to not touch me in certain places on my body, but she didn’t. I went alone to face the world of a different family. A strange man that calls himself my protector and that everything was going to be different, that I was going to feel love the same that my friends feel and the reason why they were so happy and that’s what I wanted.
So, to me everything was normal and those are things that you are supposed to do to feel love, I mean I didn’t know I thought it was normal.
He stared giving me money to just take it back from me because I didn’t know what to do with it and he didn’t want her to find out because she would ask why he was giving me money and not the others and he didn’t want me to say the reason why he was giving me money.
Well back to the story how it all happened!
The moment I realized it wasn’t love was when it stared hurting, he started pushing down harder when he realized what he was doing a little too late because he later apologized. I didn’t say much but I didn’t like it at all.
One day I was watching TV and the other two boys went to sleep and the wife too. He let me watch TV til’ late that day but he would walk back to the room and back to the living room. He did it about six times the last time; he sat on the floor next to me and started touching me but then he said it was normal, he said that it’s the way you show your kids you love them and that everyone does it but I can’t tell anybody and that’s when she walked in on him and told me to go to bed and sleep and she was talking to him, then she walked back into the room and asked me if I was okay… I said yes because I was scared of her.
The next day I told her about it and she was arguing with him for a long time while I was playing outside.
Then she calls me and asks me to say the same thing that I told her but this time in front of him and he was looking straight into my eyes, but I still said yes and she still didn’t believe me. Well, maybe she did but she didn’t do anything about it because he did it on the next day and the next year until I was old enough to know that, that isn’t right and that’s when I started hating the world and everything around it.
