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Dark Memories

Which one do I choose?

By Bonita Fernandes-BennettPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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There are so many of them. Memories of my not-so-well-known childhood. I never spoke about all the occurrences as a kid due to the fear of my family being harmed or shamed. However, after a while it just became a habit. It was easier not to share my pain with anyone then to even remember it ever happened.

For years, I lived a life of oblivion. I focused on my work, friends, and family. It was easier that way and I needed to get away from my past. My therapist once told me it was normal for a survivor to bury their memories and continue to live as if nothing happened. In my case, there was just too much I didn’t want to recall. Over 10 years of my life that I chose to keep hidden and try to forget. That was the only way I could live on without feeling the pain and the hurt. It worked for a while.

One day, they started coming back and I found it difficult to cope. I didn’t know what to do, or where to go. It was only recently that I got the help I needed, which makes me feel confident enough to share a small part of my years from hell with you, a total stranger. And to also raise awareness to the awfulness that happens in this world.

I must have been about 3 or 4 years old. My parents worked long hours and trusted our neighbour to look after me. The lady of the house was strict, but nice enough to babysit me. What my parents didn’t realise was that there were 3 growing boys in that house, one of which must have been in his late teens or early twenties, and often looked after me alone. He might have been older, but who cares, I can’t remember that detail. I was too young to understand age.

It all started when I was left alone with him. He shut the door to the main room, kneeled on the floor, and asked me to hold his member. I hadn’t seen one before and immediately felt as if it wasn’t right. That I shouldn’t be holding it in my hands. I let go and started walking to the door. It was locked.

He told me it was a game and that I had to stroke him till something magical happened. I was confused and uncomfortable. When I wouldn’t do as I was told, that’s when the threats started. He would kill my brothers first and than my parents if I told anyone what was happening. I had to do as he said or they would all die. What an idiot. Why did I believe him? Granted, he scared the shit out of me and there was no reason for me to not believe him. I wish I did something different. Jumped out of the window, maybe? That’s when I first went into ‘Freeze.’ I separated my head from my body. I remember staring out of the window and thinking of how sunny it was. All whilst he got my hands to do what he wanted them to.

That was just the beginning. The beginning of a very dark childhood and of memories that will haunt me forever. I still lay awake at night with tears rolling down my face. How could someone do this to a child?

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