My step father raped me at the age of 7 and i vividly recall that day like it happenned yesterday.
My dad Mr. Harold took me into my parents’ bedroom in our house sat me down on the edge of the bed, unzipped his pants and began to masturbate in front of me.
He then grabbed my hand and made me touch his manhood and when he ejaculated he said to that is the stuff that makes babes,i was shocked as i haven’t seen such a thing or though,the size of the manhood was frightening as it was masculine.
I was just used seeing that of my young brother while bathing him.
On the second day he raped me, things began as they normally did with him berating me for making another mistake, but before long he had forced me up on the desk in his little office in the basement.
He then tore off my shoes, socks, pants, and underwear and started ramming into me. I can still feel his grubby hands on me. I can still smell his Old Spice. I can still feel the agony in my body.
Day after day, week after week, month after month, I kept my head down and I kept my mouth shut while I was being raped repeatedly, both at the school and at home.
My Mum was never at home as he had a kiosk away from where we used to stay. He could take me into the bedroom and do anything he wanted to do to me. He could take me into the bathroom and do anything he wanted to do to me.
That is how I learned about sex. The first time I had sex willingly later I thought it was a punishment.
By the time I was out on my own, I had come to accept that I would never be free of the abuse. It would always define me. I was in and out of therapy throughout my 20s and 30s.
I have been traveling the country and telling my story ever since. I have been fortunate to meet so many fellow survivors, social workers, therapists, academics and others who have helped me to continuously reshape my life.
Raping and especially from a family member destroys someone self esteem and those in silence they should