Follow related website bookmark from Reddit:
I woke up to my father sexually molesting me when I was 11
I've been seeing a lot of these confessions on Reddit and I thought I would give it a go. Beware: there's a lot of back story. I was 11 years old when my father came back from prison (he had been there since I was 3). I don't know exactly why he was in there for so long, but I remember going with my mom and visiting him on conjugal visits. We'd travel for hours by car, it seemed, through the desert and mountains. When we'd get there, we'd be assigned to a trailer where my mother and father would "reunite". By that, I mean they would have loud sex accompanied by the sound of the bed springs being pounded into, while I played a game of Sorry! or Monopoly by myself, trying my hardest to drown out the sounds -- I knew exactly what they were doing and it sickened me. Then my parents would come out afterwards, I don't remember what we did in the hours that they weren't having sex. All I remember is desperately wishing that I had a sibling to distract myself. There weren't any other kids to play around with on prison grounds. I'm pretty sure I knew what sex was since I was a toddler. I had to sleep on the same waterbed as my parents. My father would tell me to turn the other way while they started, and finished, with me not even three feet away. I believed my hatred for my mother during childhood stemmed from those particular visits. We screamed at each other, we shoved, I wrote "I hate mommy" in the books she worked hard to buy me (we lived in a shit house, infested with cockroaches and rats), tried to run away, I stole money from her (to buy flashcards, of all things) and I envied my friends who had loving mothers and fathers. Although, I think now that it must not have all been horrible---she sewed my clothes, packed me lunches and made sure there was a different meal on the table every single day, despite the fact that we were relatively poor. We were able to afford a cat (I had begged her for one for years). But I digress...extremely. Anyways, by the time my father came home from prison, my mom had been trying to divorce him for years. To exact revenge, he would bring women home to our house and fuck them while she slept in another room. This is when she left me with him. She had bought a laptop and was on the internet quite a lot. My father got pissed and took an axe to it, destroying it. He kicked my mother out, beating her (this was common when I was baby, I heard. I remember bits and pieces). I wanted to run after her as she left out the front door, but he pulled me back by my hair and told me to forget about her. Later, I went back into their room and heard a knock at the window. It was my mom, telling me she loved me and that she would come back for me. She moved 2 hours away after that, living with a roommate she used to work with. I'm not exactly sure how much time passed. As a kid, a month is forever. I told people that I had decided to stay with my father because he needed me (although, my mom told me that I wanted to go with her but she couldn't take me because the house she would stay at had no room). I'm not even sure the sexual molestation happened all in one day. I remember an instance where he made me shower with him. I was reluctant, to which he said "I saw you naked when you were born, what makes you think there's a difference now?" I remember feeling something at my back, and I knew, I just knew it wasn't an innocent thing. For some reason, he picked me up, I don't remember how it happened but I ended up falling on my face in the shower and we got out after that. I remember him turning around, spreading his...cheeks...asking me if his anus moved while he farted. The last thing I remember was him telling me to sleep in his bed because he was renting out my room to someone (it never happened). He told me to take my pajamas off. Later that night, I awoke to his hand between my legs, fondling me. I think I went back to sleep, too afraid that if I moved or let him know that I was awake, that he would beat me senseless. When I woke up that morning, I started getting ready for school. That's when he told me "I'm a bad daddy". I don't remember my reaction. The next thing I remember was arriving at my elementary school. I was really friendly with the staff. I looked up to the janitor, Charlie, as a father figure. I helped him pick up trash and spoke to him everyday, as well as the playground attendant, Melinda. It so happened that in the morning, she asked me how I was. I replied "Not good." She asked me why, and I told her that my dad had touched me. She then became very serious and took me to the principal's office. I had to tell the principal what happened. Then he called the police and I had to tell them what happened. Then I left in a police car to the station, where I had to to go into those rooms you often see in television shows, where there's the one way mirror, a table and some stuffed animals so the kid isn't scared as fuck. I told the detective everything, just as I told everybody else. They police made me call my father on a blocked line (I think that's what they're called). They gave me a script, telling me to tell him that I was staying at a friends house for the night. Well, that fell through because my friend's mom called him and told him I left in a police car. He cursed at me and told me to "get the fuck home now". The policeman took the phone from me and hung it up, telling me I did a really good job. Not sure what happened during this time either, but I ended up going to court. The judge told me that I should testify against him. By then, I remember feeling so sick and tired of telling people this story that I said I didn't want to. That and I had this image of a courtroom (I'd only ever seen one on television) full of people, watching me speak. The judge assured me that it wasn't like that. He came up with a solution to record my testimony, I still refused. Well, he ended up pleading guilty. I remember the day, but not his voice or what he looked like. I remember an orange uniform, hands locked in front of him in handcuffs. Then I was in a foster home, where I stayed for I don't know how long. I went to court one last time, where they said I'd be staying with my aunt and uncle (my father's brother). I remember thinking "Yes! They have the Nintendo 64 and Super Mario Bros!" I lived with them for about a year, I guess. Then I went to go live with my mom. The phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder" couldn't ring any truer. I had sorely missed my mother. Time passes, eventually I end up "hating" my mom (we really can't live under the same roof for very long). I go through middle and high school, she goes through another husband. They divorced and I chose to stay with my stepdad because I would have my own room, whereas my mom only had a one bedroom condo. Truthfully, I never really looked up to this guy as a father. In my late teens, somewhere around sophomore and junior year, weird things started happening. He wanted more hugs, he invited me to sit on his lap and he would kiss me on the lips good night. I didn't know what a normal father-daughter relationship was so I thought I was just being awkward. One day, I faked sick and asked to stay home from school. This guy always let me skip school, one of the reasons I did poorly during junior year. He told me that he noticed I'd been tired lately and thought I might have mono. So he gave me a medicine that is usually issued to the marines before they deploy to overseas or something like that. Now, I've never been high but I imagine that I was somewhere near being so when the medicine kicked in. I was seeing colors above me head while I was lying down in bed. I was trying to reach out and touch them. more