Nobody to tell

I had nobody to tell.

They tell kids today if anyone hurts you or touches you in a private place to tell a teacher or someone in authority like a policeman. They didn't tell us anything like that when I was a kid. I'm not sure I would have been brave enough to do it if they had. I was not close to any of my teachers and I didn't trust any of them enough to tell them what was happening. I knew the police would do nothing, because of what they had told my mom when they came the first time. I thought they still couldn't anything. I was too young to know the laws had changed.

When he started touching me I was too young to know what really was going on. All I knew was he humiliated me, embarrassed me and made me think it was my fault. I felt dirty and unworthy of love. I wanted him to stop. My friends would never have understood. How could ever I tell them when I didn't entirely understand what was happening myself? The only thing left to do was write everything down and try to keep away from him.

Until a few years ago I never told Mom what was happening. I was afraid to tell her for many reasons. What if she didn't believe me? What if she confronted him and he hurt or killed her? Who would take care of us? What if she confronted him and he took it out on me? Mom already agonized over not being able to protect us enough. I felt like it would have crushed her to know he had stooped to a new lower level! I had to protect her from that information. I kept writing but I hid my book even better. Always afraid it would be read by someone and I would be judged.

Some time passed and Mom got weird about us being home alone with him. I wondered if she had suspected anything or if she had read my book. She would stay at home with us when he was home or she would drop us off with friends or family. One day I overheard her crying in her room. I didn't know why so I quietly listened as she was talking on the phone. I thought she was talking about me but I was wrong. She was talking about my sister. I don't know who she was talking to that she could confide in. I cried that night wishing I had someone to talk to a more worried than ever that my sister was also being touched.

Eventually I figured out what was happening to me. I felt worse than dirty. I wondered how I could make him stop. He was so big how could I ever overpower him or get the better of him. I decided if I told anyone they would think it was my fault for letting it go on for so long. I wanted to die. I knew nobody who would understand. Nobody who could make him stop.

Although there was nobody to tell I could still vent. There was a place where I wouldn't be judged as long as nobody saw my book so I wrote.