Living After Abuse
My mother would let him look after me while she tended to other things and the other kids. He
changed me, dressed me, bathed me and put me to bed. I remember baths with the others,
though I don’t remember if anything happened to them so much. Most times we were alone.
He made me touch him and he touched me. He would put me to bed at night, say good night
to Mom, and sneak back into my room, he hid in the closet if he heard her coming. As soon as
things were quiet again he would come out or after I fell asleep, I would be awakened with him
pulling off my covers and lifting my nightgown to my neck, assaulted me nightly. It got so I
could not sleep and feared him coming and hiding in my room or getting caught and the
having the wrath of my parents focused on me as he manipulated me to believe. I prayed he
would leave me alone but he did not. It got so I would fake sleep, close my eyes tight and
pretend I was somewhere else, wait for him to finish his sexual assault, and put it out of my
mind.
As I got older, in the bathroom, he would sneak in, and assaulted me as I went to the
bathroom. I remember a couple of close calls of almost getting caught, his finger hushing me
to be quiet until he managed to sneak out, sometimes hiding in the bathtub behind the shower
curtain. He walked out into my Mom once and lied and said he mistakenly walked in on me
when it became uncomfortable due to my age for him to be with me. Day after day and night
after night it was the same thing and went on for years. He babysat us and so it was easy for
him to do what he wanted. When my parents were out and as the others watched TV, he
would take me downstairs.
The wrath of my parents got worse as we all were pummeled with obscenities, spanked and
slapped routinely, the closest body part always feeling the sting. Slapping us across the face or
head was popular by both of them and I remember my Dad taking a 2x4 to the boys, for
whatever reason now I don’t remember, sometimes there was no reason. Dinnertime was a
time of foreboding as someone always got in trouble. We were taught to shut up, as kids, were
to be seen and not heard and forced to eat what was in front of us to the point of being sick at
the table. I remember many times when my Dad would yell at me, I would stand there terrified
and pee myself, and then he would humiliate me even more. I was luckier than the boys; only
for the fact my father didn’t physically hurt me as much, because I was a girl. We grew up
called stupid and many words I never understood until much later.
A reprieve from my brother came when he was charged along with another boy for rape of a
girl he took out. Unfortunately, the girl’s reputation, though none I am sure, was presented as
if she asked for it and was believed over my brothers and his friend’s lies. Though, this was kept
from us, I only got bits and pieces of the conversations and accusations made, it was difficult
not to hear what was going on, it was a big mistake in our house! It was many years later that
my mother confirmed this. My father beat him good over that and he was sent away to the
army. When he came back, things resumed with me.
He eventually got married and had two girls of his own, to this day; they do not talk to him. I
felt guilt of not finding my voice and the courage to tell then, as I am sure he did the same to
them as me as there was sexual abuse of some nature over them that came out much later.
changed me, dressed me, bathed me and put me to bed. I remember baths with the others,
though I don’t remember if anything happened to them so much. Most times we were alone.
He made me touch him and he touched me. He would put me to bed at night, say good night
to Mom, and sneak back into my room, he hid in the closet if he heard her coming. As soon as
things were quiet again he would come out or after I fell asleep, I would be awakened with him
pulling off my covers and lifting my nightgown to my neck, assaulted me nightly. It got so I
could not sleep and feared him coming and hiding in my room or getting caught and the
having the wrath of my parents focused on me as he manipulated me to believe. I prayed he
would leave me alone but he did not. It got so I would fake sleep, close my eyes tight and
pretend I was somewhere else, wait for him to finish his sexual assault, and put it out of my
mind.
As I got older, in the bathroom, he would sneak in, and assaulted me as I went to the
bathroom. I remember a couple of close calls of almost getting caught, his finger hushing me
to be quiet until he managed to sneak out, sometimes hiding in the bathtub behind the shower
curtain. He walked out into my Mom once and lied and said he mistakenly walked in on me
when it became uncomfortable due to my age for him to be with me. Day after day and night
after night it was the same thing and went on for years. He babysat us and so it was easy for
him to do what he wanted. When my parents were out and as the others watched TV, he
would take me downstairs.
The wrath of my parents got worse as we all were pummeled with obscenities, spanked and
slapped routinely, the closest body part always feeling the sting. Slapping us across the face or
head was popular by both of them and I remember my Dad taking a 2x4 to the boys, for
whatever reason now I don’t remember, sometimes there was no reason. Dinnertime was a
time of foreboding as someone always got in trouble. We were taught to shut up, as kids, were
to be seen and not heard and forced to eat what was in front of us to the point of being sick at
the table. I remember many times when my Dad would yell at me, I would stand there terrified
and pee myself, and then he would humiliate me even more. I was luckier than the boys; only
for the fact my father didn’t physically hurt me as much, because I was a girl. We grew up
called stupid and many words I never understood until much later.
A reprieve from my brother came when he was charged along with another boy for rape of a
girl he took out. Unfortunately, the girl’s reputation, though none I am sure, was presented as
if she asked for it and was believed over my brothers and his friend’s lies. Though, this was kept
from us, I only got bits and pieces of the conversations and accusations made, it was difficult
not to hear what was going on, it was a big mistake in our house! It was many years later that
my mother confirmed this. My father beat him good over that and he was sent away to the
army. When he came back, things resumed with me.
He eventually got married and had two girls of his own, to this day; they do not talk to him. I
felt guilt of not finding my voice and the courage to tell then, as I am sure he did the same to
them as me as there was sexual abuse of some nature over them that came out much later.
Linda's Story
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Award Winning Book, Child Advocate, Child Rape, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child
Maltreatment, Child Cruelty, Sexual Abuse, Crimes Against Children, Injustice, Child Advocate,
Child Psychology, Child Development, Child Molester, Child Molesters, Sexual Deviant, Sexual
Law, sexual law, Radio Shows, Featured Guest, Motivational Speaker, Keynote Speaker, Cody
Posey, New Mexico, Las Cruces, Roswell, Traverse City, Radio Guest, Child Abuse Prevention,
child psychology, child therapy, Social Worker, Healing, hopeful, The Purpose Driven Life,
Failure to Protect, Child Endangerment, Hope, Healing, Compassionate, passionate, Fighter,
Fighter for kids
Maltreatment, Child Cruelty, Sexual Abuse, Crimes Against Children, Injustice, Child Advocate,
Child Psychology, Child Development, Child Molester, Child Molesters, Sexual Deviant, Sexual
Law, sexual law, Radio Shows, Featured Guest, Motivational Speaker, Keynote Speaker, Cody
Posey, New Mexico, Las Cruces, Roswell, Traverse City, Radio Guest, Child Abuse Prevention,
child psychology, child therapy, Social Worker, Healing, hopeful, The Purpose Driven Life,
Failure to Protect, Child Endangerment, Hope, Healing, Compassionate, passionate, Fighter,
Fighter for kids
| Rhonnie & Company, llc ATTENTION: Living After Abuse Mail P.O. Box 6219 Traverse City, Mi 49695 © Est. 2002 |
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