Memory of My Abuse – A Work in Progress

I am titling this a work in progress because the memories are still surfacing and I am still dealing with and processing them, so I will be writing them out as they come out.



Then the abuse starts – my mother/uncle’s parents move here to help with the divorce and the aftereffects – and suddenly I am being left with people that should not have children anywhere near them. They were the very essence of evil. This far back the only clear memory I have of the abuse is what came after. I was 3 or at the most 4 years old and they lived 5 minutes from where I lived. I know something bad has happened to me and I am hiding in my grandparent’s dog’s box. She is in there with me and I am petting her and hiding because I don’t want anyone to find me. And all I can remember is the feel of the dog fur, the dog’s calming heart beat and the fact that I was safe now and no one could find me. And if they did my dog would get them. Why is it that no one noticed that I threw a hit when they would pull me out of that box? Why did no one think to wonder why I’d always end up in that box even though I was repeatedly warned against it? My God, my mother knew what my grandfather was, why didn’t she take note of the sign that what happened to her was happening to me?


I was 5. I was in the shower at my grandparent’s house, the one that was 4 hours away, when someone came in the bathroom. I really this nothing of it because I figure it is either my sister or my mom having to use the toilet and they just didn’t wait any longer. It happened sometimes at home so it was no big deal. Then the shower door was opening and someone was in the shower with me. All I keep thinking was why was someone in the shower with me. By the time I got the soap out of my eyes, a hand was over my mouth, and a voice was telling me to be quiet or I would get in trouble.

In this moment I had one of two choices SCREAM, SCREAM, SCREAM because what is happening is so damn wrong or Shut up, keep quiet, you don’t want to get caught because you know that this is wrong and you will get into trouble.

SCREAM – SHUT UP, SCREAM – SHUT UP, SCREAM – SHUT UP. What do I do? I don’t want to be in trouble so I don’t scream. Maybe I should have screamed than the rest would not have happened, but at five it is so hard to know what to do in an impossible, adult situation.

I was told to turn around. What I saw will be forever burn in my memory. Before me was my grandfather, naked and erect. His hand was grabbing mine and I was made to touch and rub him. It was something I did not want, I knew it was wrong, but he was stronger than me so I had no choice. I closed my eyes again, did what it was that he wanted and waited for it all to be over. I don’t know how long it lasted but he was getting out and I was told that if I told I get it for sure. I better be quiet because my parents wouldn’t want me anymore if they found out what a nasty girl I was.



4 thoughts on “Memory of My Abuse – A Work in Progress

  1. It saddens me that your mother did not protect you from your grandfather when she knew what he was. My mother didn’t protect me either. She said she didn’t know when I told her when I was in my 40’s. I believe that on some level she had to know because she always sent me with my dad on all of his trips to town.

  2. My mother knew my grandfather was a pedophile he had gone after her, yet she used to have my grandfather baby sit, why is it these men who are supposed to spoil us, nurture happy memories take advantage of our trust and innocence, I cant tell you how much I would love to help you, to be there and support, I feel so useless and hate that this has happened to someone else.
    Your strong and brave to put this into words and i respect and envy that about you.

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