My Story

Posted on: October 16th, 2015

I was 9 so I will not sugar coat the truth. I will share with you how I was forced to do, well what you wouldn’t have wanted to do. I will share with why I had teary eyes as he separated my thighs. But then again you might only think it’s lies. I could tell you about the warm summer days as I ate fruit loops. As he rubbed my shoulder and let me know what he was going to do. I was only 9. But I was only 7. I was only 7 as I tried to push him of off me using my legs but soon they got weak. I used to get in trouble in school I was addressed as Ms. Norfleet and told to make my way to PEAK. But all they knew was I was too ahead of my youth. It crosses my mind why nobody asked for the truth. Not one teacher asked or cared. Maybe because they feared what a 7 year old could share.

I was only 7. I was only 6 as was lying down and felt her breast on me. Yes a girl who was 14 who was trying relieve the touch she had once known from someone else with me. I was only 6.

I was 16 when I had the ability to open up my mouth. To tell about how someone’s hands went a little too down south. I was told I was liar and people couldn’t understand why I waited. Waited so long to tell somebody what was done. But inside my mind a reason wouldn’t pop in my skull. Because I had buried that nightmare in the back of my thoughts and told it to get lost. I put it in a safe and purposely forgot the code but at least that’s how I wanted it to go.

But as the years went by the safe exploded. And my feet ended up in the guidance office without giving anyone notice. My heart beating as I shared. Sharing what my mother would hate to hear. But then I didn’t care about how people would feel because I needed time for my spirit to heal. My soul cried for help as my body tried to hide the scars. But at this point it had gone to far. The scars I had no longer could be patch up with bandaids I was in need of emergency surgery. I survived. I was only 6. I was only 7. I was only 9. But I survived.

It’s going to sound gruesome. You will hope that I share a little less so that it will only hurt some.Your going to hope that I used choice words words so that it’s easy to digest. It will make your heart feel like it’s coming out of your chest. Your stomach will turn into knots as you wish you were there so you could call the cops. Because I fell into trouble before my first year of college even started. Feeling as if my body and my mind had departed because when my friends picked me up that night after work.

I met a guy who couldn’t see my worth. I walked into a bathroom and walked out experiencing two men who had just explored my body. I’m sorry let me be clear, these men I did not know pushed me back into a bathroom closed the door and did what I feared. I screamed so loud but the sound was way too loud, the sound of the music beating in my soul as I heard Rihanna blow. “I’m friends with the monster that’s under my bed. Get along with the voices inside of my head”. I was praying that they would get off of me. I was wishing that I had a superhero who was going to break down that door before they even touched me. But when they were done touching every inch of my body I left. I raced out the door while my soul tried to pound it’s way out of my chest. My mind tried to erase what took place but my heart was in ache. I was frozen for weeks and couldn’t really speak I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. I felt like a plant who was being uprooted but then I was only worried about asking God “How he could let them do this”.

I question God but I had to think again this was the God who sent his only son to die for my sins. I realized that Gods eyes were the only eyes who could see his vision. And though it wasn’t clear to me because he doesn’t have to check with me he put me on a mission. I went through these things so I could talk to those who will listen. So my story is really his story and I am only borrowing it for the moment. And I will go through this life again so I can hear in the end “Good job my good and faithful servant.”

— Survivor, age 19

1 comment

Dear survivor,
I have so much admiration for you that you were about to find the words to speak out. There are so many survivors out there that need to listen… they need to hear that healing is possible and that you can get through the pain. So keep on talking. Keep on speaking. Keep on sharing your story, no matter how gruesome the details are. The story is yours to tell in whichever way works for you. I promise you that someone who needs to hear you will listen. You are very very brave.

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