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TEEN STORY
At the age of 15 years old, I was one angry girl. You’d be angry too, carrying around a rock in the pit of your stomach. One constant thought, “Why is this happening to my family?!?!” Why was I so angry, at my stepfather who has been a part of my life since I was four? At first he seemed pretty nice, and but after a while he got mean. When he would come home in a bad mood I would get really scared. When he was mad he would usually start yelling, then screaming, and then hitting would start(usually Mom). Everyday my entire family had to be ready to adjust to his mood.
Even his good moods weren’t much better; twisting everything around and picking fights. He would make us cry, then get mad at us saying that he was “only teasing.”
Mom planned a visit for me with my grandparents and I was so excited! But my stepfather said no, they had a fight, and we never did go but then again we never got to go anywhere. I couldn’t go to the movies, a football game, or even go to a friend’s house. Mom wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone either. My stepdad made sure of that! She couldn’t go anywhere without him, even if it was just to the grocery store. But, that wasn’t the worst part.
I think I was around nine, when he taught me a new game. It was a special secret game just for him and me. Basically he made a deal with me. If I did what he wanted and played this game with him, I wouldn’t get punished. No lectures, no groundings, no beatings, nothing. I decided to go along with it because I was nine, it was a game and it made him happy, which was rare. When he was happy so was my Mom. So I went along with it and played the game, but I didn’t like it. But he said that if I didn’t play I would be responsible for breaking up our family, so I played. In my little world, the game was normal and I thought all kids played it.
Sometime around age twelve I began to realize that the game was wrong. When we were around other people (or around my Mom) if I was mad at him or did something wrong, he would say “Now what have I ever done to you?” or “When have I ever hurt you?” knowing I couldn’t answer truthfully. He called it “Our Secret Game”. But now I understood it’s really a crime called: Incest. The word itself sounds so horrible, who would want to say that they were a part of something like that? He was right. There was no one who would understand that it wasn’t my fault so I kept quiet.
One afternoon my mom and stepfather were fighting a lot, mostly about me. For no reason he would say things to her like “Your daughter will be pregnant before she’s 18, just like you!” He was rampaging through the house; following her as she went room to room trying to get him to leave her alone. He had her cornered in front of the open basement door. I ran to the door and shut it. I was sure he was going to throw her down the stairs. When she made a move to go outside, he grabbed her by the throat, choking her; he shoved her out the front door. I didn’t see what happened outside. I was too afraid to look. The next night the fighting started outside. Finally my Mom had had enough. She grabbed me and we drove to town. Filled with emotions I felt like I was going to explode. I wanted to tell her my secret but she was so upset, so I stayed quiet; twenty miles of total silence. We stayed at my great Aunt’s house that night but we went back to my stepfather the next day. It would be three years before we left again this time for good.
This time we stayed with a friend of my Mom’s. She listened, was understanding and didn’t judge us. Soon after I had to go to court and testify against my stepfather. Mom filed for a divorce and we went to the local crisis center. The people there were great! They gave us ideas about how to talk about what happened to us and communicate our feelings. Mom picked us each a counselor from the list they gave us. I found it was okay to tell. Incest is wrong. He was wrong and it wasn’t my fault.
Mom and I went to the center’s support group weekly. The youth advocate explained that we did not deserve what happened to us and that it wasn’t our fault. Mom still goes to the support group at the crisis center. Me, I’m 18 now and am looking forward to college in the fall. Life is not perfect and I’m still not sure that everything will be ok, but we are free from his abuse. I have however, learned the signs of unhealthy relationships.
I continue to try to move on without anymore abuse in my life.
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