Darkling's Past

I was molested as a child by my own father, who as a teenager, I would only refer to as a sperm donor. From the time I was four, until I was 14 years old, he would wait until my mother went out to play bingo and then would bring me into his bedroom and rape me. I hated when my mother left overnight or for even longer the most. Sometimes, he would come into my room and wake me up for it.

I still vividly remember what he did to me, and how much it disgusted me after it was over. How I  hated the feeling, smell, and taste of him. So many times afterwards I'd  go to the bathroom and just  start puking and crying silently to myself.     . One thing he taught me was to never tell anyone, because I'd get into trouble is what hed say me. It took a long time for my mother to find out, and when she did, things just got so much worse.

Unfortunately for me, she only reinforced Jeff's lifelong gaslighting of not telling anyone about what went on behind closed doors by beating me in one of her infamous blackout rages. Ill never forget the look in her eyes as she attacked me that night when i tried to explain my abuse to her. I still trace the pain that flares daily down my back to that torturous night.

The punishment didn't end there. I was the scapegoat for both of them from that day forward. If something was wrong it was my fault. Jeff started smacking me in the face for the slightest offenses and mom's beatings became more brutal. After mom divorced him and moved out, Jeff's abuse was even worse and aggressive. Saying no wasnt an option. I became isolated from my friends and stopped playing outside altogether. I hated myself and him, and dreamed nightly of running away.
The night she left, i remember sitting in my room playing w my cabbage patch doll when he came in and said that I was now the wife of the house, and he meant it in every sense of the word. it really messed up my views on marriage to this day.
Now, I sit here, years later, with no idea what to do. Ever since my parent's divorce, he's always had girlfriends and/or new wives who had at least one daughter. I fear for those unknown girls. How many of them did my silence all these years allow him to do the same despicable things to? How many suffered at his hands, and if I did finally speak up, would they come forward with similar stories? Do I even want to hear them? Sisters in secret shame.

My sister made the family secret known unto our family members, her anger over it and probably her own abuse at his hands knows no bounds. Mine turns ever inward, a poison that sickens me to this very day. No one really understands why my siblings and I are so messed up, just us. Bound by bonds of twisted sickness. Our upbringing has kept my brother in and out of jail for years, my sister perpetually angry and bitter, and myself in a constant physical and emotional pain, unable to live up to my full potential. Its not something we talk about much, but the past hangs over the three of us like a shroud.

I like to pretend that I'm past it and gotten through it, but it still shows its lingering effects on my mind to this day. I gaze at other fathers with their own children and wonder why one winds up an abuser and another doesn't. The sick and twisted things that go on behind closed doors.

The other day, I saw his picture on facebook. I can't stand the sight of him. It brings up a dredge of memories I wish I'd never lived through.