My Story

I have to start by giving a bit of an insight into my past. I come from a broken home, including drugs, cheating, child services, and overall a lot of neglect and pain. I also have a hearing disability, so I didn't start speaking until far later in life.

It was a cold, wet November afternoon in 2009 (making me 8). My younger brother and I walked down the street, throwing slush balls, our socks stuck to our feet, and our fingers were numb by the time we got to our neighbors. The house smelt like rotting pumpkins and cigarettes, but it didn't dampen our mood since Thomas just got a new Xbox 360, and the heater was thawing our noses. We were there all afternoon, enjoying a WWE game. We started to gather our stuff to leave since our stomachs decided it was dinner time. As we got our sweaters on, my brother asked for some of the Halloween candy that had been sitting in a fishbowl. Thomas agreed, as long as I fell behind so I could see how "cool" his younger brother's room was. I gave the okay, so my brother left while I followed Thomas into Matthews's room.

It was terrific! There was a Cars themed bed frame and bedding, a small Cars-themed box TV on a red stand, and a small table with two chairs in the corner that also happened to be Cars. The walls, although, were all white, and there was a small window across from the door, which was just a bit too high for me to look out of.

As I walked in, Thomas closed the door, which happened to have a child lock on it. When I turned to face him, I could tell something was off with his expression. He started to walk closer to me, so I backed up until my back was up against the wall. I kept my eyes on his top lip, which had a small scar, and I went over and over the story of the dog attacking him. He moved behind me, so I was still facing the door, but he was between me and the wall. I couldn't breathe since his body odor kept making me choke. As he slid his hands down my Dora jeans, he told me never to tell anyone. I could hear my heart and feel my stomach turning as I started to cry. He hushed me in my ear while he pulled my pants and underwear down, in one swift motion, as if he had practiced. I heard him taking his own off and sliding down the wall. He then grabbed my hips and forced himself into me. I trembled in pain and let more tears fall. He moaned and started to groan as I got goosebumps. It felt like forever before he filled me. He then helped me up as I pulled my pants up.

I waited at the door and stared at the doorknob until he opened it for me. I didn't try to say anything as I grabbed my white light up Dora shoes and my purple-flowered coat. He watched at the front door and opened it for me when I stood up. On my way home, I broke into tears and kept walking into puddles to wash the blood off my shoes. When I got in, I wiped my shoes on last time onto my shirt and took off my jacket, which happened to be three shades darker in the sleaves from me, wiping my face into them. When my grandmother walked into the mudroom, she looked me up and down before getting mad, saying I ruined a good pair of pants and for me to get ready for bed. The next morning when she was doing my hair for school, she told me never to bring up what happened since it was an embarrassment to the family, and no guy would want to marry me.