Flashbacks

***To my family members. I understand if you don't want to read this post. It's explicit, and would be painful for you to read. Unless you'd like to include yourselves in my personal crises, I suggest you stop reading here. I'm sick of burying it, and it's time it came out in the open.***

Hold on to your keyboards folks, this is the beginning of a journey that you will be taking with me.
I can't hold this in anymore. I can't just let it sit. It's rotting me from the inside. It's forcing me to loose the will to live.
Over the weekend whilst visiting with family members, I had a very frank conversation that turned my world upside down.
I feel stupid, and lost, and angry...and after it's all died down, I've come to the realization that sometimes there just aren't any answers. The answers that could be there if I asked, would probably not satisfy me in the least, so I'm unsure if I even want to ask the questions. The only solution that I could come up with was to write about it.

I'm 6 years old. My mother is on her way out for the evening. I'm begging her not to go. I don't want her to leave me alone with him. She leaves anyways, and I'm devastated because I know what's going to happen when it's time for bed.

I'm 8 years old. My mother is out for the evening, I think she had a night job. It's a bath night for me. He runs me a bath, and then insists he sit in the bathroom to watch and "make sure" I wash myself up, instead of just play. When I play for too long, he comes over and washes me himself. I had that feeling. I remember being scared when I finally get out and get to bed. I'm praying he won't come and tuck me in too. I'm trying to count the seconds until it's over.

I'm 8 years old, and I'm terrified that my step-father is coming to tuck me in. I remember him taking the Alf doll that I had and making me giggle...and I don't know what happened after, only that my heart was racing, I was frozen, and I was trying not to show my emotions because I was scared. I was praying that he would leave. I remember his voice smooth and sultry when he told me how beautiful I was to him.

I'm nine years old and we're on our way across the country, moving to Nova Scotia where he's from. I remember having a conversation with my mother about him. In child terms I told her that he wasn't a very good man. I remember feeling disappointed and frustrated that she couldn't understand why. I remember not being able to tell her exactly why.

We're playing in the living room of the little two bedroom house we're renting. It's summertime, and really hot. My step-father always wore cut off jean shorts. He sitting with just these on, on the floor, watching tv. We're playing not far away, and I realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath because I can see his penis. He caught me looking and adjusts himself, so I can see the whole thing.

I remember while my relatives were living with us during this time, that I woke to a shadow in my doorway more often. I also remember that that pulsing, burning feeling came...the one that lets me know just how terrified I really am.

I'm 9 years old, and we're in Nova Scotia. I kept getting "growing pains" in my calves. It's a cold night because I'm wearing a flannel nightgown with slippers, and I've been complaining about my legs hurting. I keep pestering my mom about how much they hurt, hoping she'd give me some relief. Instead she gets him to massage them. Then suddenly everyone goes to bed and I'm left alone with him. That same feeling comes back. My heart racing, blood raging in my ears, I'm terrified. He's massaging and I can feel him working his way up my legs. He rubs in small circles between them and tells me that I should never let anyone touch me there. He continues rubbing and I see a funny look in his eyes. In what felt like forever he finally stops and laughs and says "Did I scare you?". I can hardly breathe.

It's spring, and we're playing in the hallway. Our room is directly accross from theirs. They're making love, and through the crack of the open door, he's watching me the whole time.

He's getting me ready for a bath, and he tells me in that voice how beautiful I am. I'm wondering why every time he says it I feel so ugly and dirty.

We were never really well off people. My step-father was a loser. He was often without a job, and chose to while his day away by smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. When we moved back to BC, we lived with relatives until we got back on our feet. Each time we moved we shared a room. I was painfully aware of when they had relations, because I knew he was watching me when he did it.

I'm 11. I've begun experimenting with smoking. He tells me to get into the bathtub. I don't want to. He runs it for me, and tells me again to get in. My mom isn't there. I finally get into the bathtub. When I come out and go to my room, I discover my underwear drawer is open, and I immediately walk in and close it. I turn to close the door behind me, and I discover him there, hiding behind the door. He's waiting for me to let go of the towel. When he realizes that I'm not letting go, he starts asking me about the lone cigarette in the bottom of the drawer. I tell him it's a friends'. He leaves the room.

I'm 11 and having nightmares. I wake up one night and go into my mothers' room and crawl into bed with her. I wake up to him stroking me, with my mother sleeping between us. I know he's realized that I'm awake, and he moves his hand over me. I roll out of bed and go back to my own.

This is just a snippet of what's been on my mind since this past weekend. I'm dreaming about shadows of someone in my doorway again. I'm dreaming about that awful, scared feeling. I feel like a child again. Like I have no power over what happens to me and my body.
My world turned upside down, when I realized that nobody but the three of us involved, knew.