Hidden Pieces ~ Sexual Abuse ~ The Garage

***TRIGGER WARNING*** ***TRIGGER WARNING*** (Graphic Description of Sexual Abuse)

I decided to begin retelling what I wrote to my therapist and I in the Winter/Spring of 2007 after four years of intense flashbacks and repressed memories emerging. [Current commentary is in brackets.] I wrote my seventy page "biography" because I needed to write out what I remembered and what I experienced to make it more "real" rather than a "story." I am ready to take the next step and putting more of it in my blog. This was the original reason for starting my blog and using my journal as a starting point. I am still struggling with believing that the following is the truth of my life:

Sometimes, my step-father and/or his father would lock me in the garage to rape me in the more sadistic ways…with objects. If my step-father was really angry with me, he would either beat me and/or rape me there. I felt so trapped and scared…you needed a key to get out of the garage and I just felt sick when I would hear the door lock…I knew that I was in trouble and there was absolutely no way out…I was being held against my will and it seems like some of the things that were done to me was a form of torture.

Sometimes, they would rape me vaginally and anally while lying on the concrete floor or while on the ping-pong table which I was always afraid that it would break and then I would really be in trouble. I remember the tool bench and everything being neatly arranged…I was absolutely terrified to even look at it. Even as I think of it now, I feel really sick and am closing my eyes. Even though it hurt, sometimes I would have rather just had a beating…sometimes I was both raped and beaten.

My step-father always did the beatings with his belt, ping-pong paddle or extra pieces of wood from projects that were worked on in the garage. He would hit until I started to bleed. Also, it really hurt when they inserted objects as they would clean them before and after with rubbing alcohol. The alcohol caused so much more pain…it felt like my whole insides had open cuts with the alcohol being poured on them. I have no idea if they even knew how much pain it caused. I usually went away the moment I heard the door lock…like I floated out of my body. I remember how much the whole process hurt and that I wanted to move and pound my fist on the ground, but I couldn’t…was too afraid that my step-father would hurt me more or kill me. As it was sometimes, he would hit my head on the floor or threaten to bash my head into the ground or to strangle me. I just remembered that…I’m feeling sick.

For several years, the men visiting in the house would also come and rape me with my step-father and/or his father watching me. Sometimes, my step-father would put a sock in my mouth or hold me down. At my step-father's parents, there were multiple men over several years including John who I thought was a friend because he used to take me places and bring ice cream just for me. He also raped me in his car during a trip at Magic Mountain. Felt like I did something wrong for him to turn on me.

During outings, there was also a day care worker that did the same thing. Special things, followed by locking me in a classroom with a friend of his and raping me and with his friend using a broom handle. The day care worker started by taking me out of sight behind heavy bushes or trees. First, he began just to touch my body and insert his fingers into my vagina and later began to rape me. Always, afterward he would purchase me ice cream or a popsicle. I thought, I was bad and did something wrong to change the relationship. Felt like I was bad to like the special treatment and still do.

This was again extremely difficult to write.  I can't believe this really happened, but it did and it gets worse.  One part that I journal about later was that on the floor I was held down, but on the ping-pong tables I was tied down.  I write about the garage later. Remember what I am writing was over a four year period  ending in 2007.  I am only now really sharing with others what I experienced.