reading some of the stories here i realise that perhaps i was lucky, in that my story doesn't compare to some of the things that members of this community have gone through.

In a way i suppose a number of events conditioned me to think that this kind of thing was normal. In infants school, two boys, innoccently enough i guess, decided to lock me in the toilets during class-time, they wouldn't let me pull my underwear back up and tormented me by grabbing it. They had their fun, daring eachother, and tried to get me to do embarassing things like sit on the toilet, they eventually allowed me to dress and escape, and even though the teacher enquired i said nothing was wrong, i didn't want her to know.

Also innoccently enough, i had a friend who was a girl, and like children do, we explored eachothers bodies and played games. she had warm hands and i liked it. The only problem i developed with this is it is all she ever wanted to do, and she was bigger than me and would threaten to tell her dad if i didn't do what she wanted. Studying the things she used to get me to do now, i suspect she was being taught by somebody, and the way their family ended up pretty much confirms that.

With all this innoccent sexual behaviour this is probably why i didn't realise the pattern in the games that i used to play with a family member. The re-occuring theme was nakedness. I look back, and i can see the care and careful planning that must have been put into these games and i realise now that the games were just a pretense to use me. I guess i should be thankful that he used the pretense of games instead of using me right out. I remember one game that had no pretense, i had blocked it out, i remember that i did it because i didn't want to hurt his feelings, i didn't want him to think that i thought he was dirty, and i remember watching the door not wanting to be caught, not because i thought it was good, but because i could see that it was wrong. I think my acceptance of this must have made him think i thought it was ok to use me like that, so that he didn't need to pretend anymore. The games happened in the region of age 6 to 8. The teachers noticed there was something wrong with me, i never wanted to go home, not just because of him but because we were a biggish family, and money doesn't go far, and when there's a lack of money there are only arguements, especially near birthdays and christmas, i never looked forward to those. The teachers called a meeting with my parents, asked me if everything was ok, i said yes, asked my parents, they said everything was fine. That was that.

My mother used to take me to the doctors alot, she wont even admit it today, but i remember. The doctor would do the normal checks, i would take my top of and he would check my heart beat and check my stomach and pulse by my thigh, and i would give samples. I never had an explanation why i always had so many check-ups, my parents were never fussy parents. They kept threatening to feed my brother through a tube if he didn't eat more so maybe they were concerned about our health, i don't know. The other thing is, not that anybody told me until alot later, they thought there was something mentally wrong with me, because i didn't speak sometimes. I remember i wouldn't speak for days and days sometimes, it was just something i would do, i never really saw the need to speak, sometimes it was a self-punishment, but i must admit i lived in a world of my own, i preferred just to think to myself and play with imaginary people and pretend i had magical powers. I was a tiny kid, i could have passed off for 5 at the age of 10, people adored me everywhere i went, people would abandon their own children and grandchildren to make a fuss over me, i was always shy and could never stop smiling, in cubs i couldn't play with the other boys because the scout masters wife would just keep me on her lap. Anyway, i'm digressing.

I used to look for comfort outside the home, you make a list of the local people in your area, from lollypop lady, milkman, shopkeeper, caretaker, bus driver, even that strange man who used to wander about from the mental hospital near us, i made friends with them all at some point. Hell when i was lonely i would go to the shops on the way home from school just to see the shopkeeper, i wasn't in a rush to go home, he used to give me birthday cards which was nice.

So there was a couple of years and my father worked away, returning about once a month with his earnings, just so that my mother could wind him up with all the things that we supposedly did wrong, he would run upstairs in the middle of the night and punish my brothers, i used to hide, and he always seemed reluctant to hit me. I often wished him dead. I would often forget what he looked like, only remembering basic features, and when we all stopped saying hello to him he decided to come back home. He wouldn't let me kiss him, even though i wanted to then, nothing sexual, just like how a little boy wants the love of his father, but to get to know who he was again i just mimicked him, always sitting next to him, sipping coffee, no sugar like him, watching star trek. sometimes he would let me hug up to him. He put his hand on my private parts and i froze and he realised i froze and that was the end to that.

I was eleven when a family member started visiting me at night. I knew i could have stopped him, but then i knew if i had i would have ruined his life, so i let him. He would get more and more daring each night and do more and more. once i fell asleep in my school uniform, and to me my uniform was like armour, but it didn't stop him, and i won't forget that. He would disrespect me, use me, and leave me without even cleaning off what he had done to me, i was just a play thing to him.

I've always seen the way out of this life and poverty to be work, in the mornings when there would be nothing left for me for breakfast my mother would almost gleefully say "early bird gets the worm", she didn't know there was a reason why i was more tired than the others. Work hard and you'll be rewarded, and so everytime i was upset i would work, and when my brothers would fight me i would soon be back into my books, and that's where i am now.

I'm happy with my life as it is now, but i have mental scars, and physical scars, the physical scars are because i tried to be a heroe, but now the mental scars have settled into the physical ones and i cant look at them withiut freezing, and when other people look at them or look into my eyes when im thinking about it i fear they know, and i also get flashbacks, and then i just want to go into the corner and die, literally in the corner, i don't know why that urge become so strong, but there we are, that's where i am now.