He said he wanted to talk. Just wanted to talk to someone.
What adult wants to talk to a nine year old?
My parents went out to dinner on a Friday night. My uncle was living with us at the time. He fed all six of us dinner, he read us all a story, and then he put the four youngest to bed. My twin sister fell asleep on the couch in the living room.
I was sitting on the couch in the family room and he came in and sat next to me. "Can I trust you with something?" he asked me. He lifted up his pant leg and showed me the black band around his ankle. "I can't leave this house while I have to wear this." He took my hand and touched it to the small black box.
At first he was just rubbing my arm. He told me about how much he missed me while he was in prison. He told me how he couldn't sleep at night. He started to rub my back. He told me about how he wanted to change his life. He told me he wanted to do better. He started to rub my stomach. He told me that he wanted to find someone to love and to marry. He started to gently rub where an uncle should never go with his niece.
I tried to show protest by shrinking away. Then I tried to shift myself away from him. He kept getting closer to me. I tried to get up off of the couch but he pulled me right back down. I started to panic. He put his hand on my cheek and whispered softly into my ear, "it's okay, baby girl." I felt sick to my stomach.
He brushed his hands through my hair for a while, and then tucked me into bed. He stood in the doorway of my room for a long time, watching me.
Every night after that he would come into my room, lie down next to me in my bed, and molest me. At least once a week he would rape me.
Sometimes he would bring a knife and threaten me.
The next time my parents were going to go out to dinner, I begged my mom not to leave. She asked me why and I couldn't tell her. I told her I wanted our babysitter back. I promised I would be so good. My mom told me no. We had a perfectly good babysitter, my uncle. I started to cry and I begged her again, "Mom, please don't go. Don't leave me here." She just shook her head and walked out the door.
Why didn't she question? Why didn't she wonder why I would beg her not to leave me with him?
I tried to tell in the only way I knew how, and somehow it wasn't good enough.
Somehow I wasn't good enough.
This wasn't the first time I was abused and it wasn't the last. I think I hold strong feelings of anger and hurt and betrayal against my mom because she never listened to me. I tried to tell several times before, when I was younger, and several times after, when I was older. She never listened.
Today I have been remembering more things my uncle did to me during this time frame, and my mom noticed how upset I've been. Now she wants to know what's wrong.
Well guess what mom, it's too damn late.