There were never any trigger events that made me remember, I remember most if not all that was done to me, nearly every experience. There were triggers that mad my emotions go wild, I have hit every range of emotion possible, sometimes within an hour, I could bounce from on extreme to the next. I wonder what is wrong with me, and I get to thinking back, to times when I was 13 when it started, till about 17, when it finally ended.
It started when I had turned 13, I was in the Boyscouts, my father was one of the leader. A boy I knew from school, a highschool student in his senior year at that, was in our troop. I knew him as one of the outcasts at school, odd and always outside the clicks that were there then.
He befriended me in the troop, he was 18 going on 19 then, an assistant leader. Both of my parents worked, I was the one that had to take care of my two younger brothers and sister, dad with the corp of engineers, mom with a nursing home to provide for all of us.
I was a outcast, loner from the start, and it started out innocent enough, him pursuading me, and telling me it was how boys turning into men, practiced how to be with a girl properly, a right to manhood so to speak. Started out kissing, him forcing me too, threats he wouldnt be my friend anymore, how I havve heard that threat from him many many times. After that, he would start to fondle me, and caress my butt, making me feel ill, though excited, I never being subject to this before, or his caring for me, something I rarely felt at home while my parents were gone.
The first time he raped me, he had stolen a couple
bottles of beer from his old man, and shared them with me, while I was stuck with him for the weekand. We shared them, I being silly off them, he led me to his room, where he started kissing me and fondling me again, telling me he had something new to show to me. Asked me to strip, and lay on my belly on his bed, when I said I was scared, and it didnt feel right, he told me he would stop being my friend, and it would end all the nice things he was giving me, most of it, feigned attention and love.
The pain as he took me suddenly, forcefully, my screaming into the pillow, as I struggled and never broke free, I will never forget, to be cast aside as a toy or tool when he was finished with me that first time I can not forget. Wasnt the last time either.
I would continually go back to his place afterwards, his befriending me and showing me so much affection more important then the pain inflicted on me at the time. After a while, I began to enjoy everything he did to me, or made me
do to him. Even after I moved away for a year, and
visited every 3-4 months, I wanted to go back to him, though he made me cry out in pain, sometimes hitting me when I struggled and tried to pull away from him. We moved back to the state, and monthly I would stay a week at his place, with his parents, where he would use me several times during my stay, sometimes 4-5 times a day.
This continued many years, even for a 3 week stay when we had visited my grandparents the year I turned 17, even though I had not seen this guy since we had moved away a year previously, I had even called him up and seen if he was still about,
because he made me feel special in a way I never felt, though he hurt me and had only one use for me.
I have lived with this filthy secret for many years, though my parents and family have never suspected, I yearn to tell them one day. Though I know I can never tell them. I still can not shake the shame, hate and guilt I feel for myself for not stopping him, when it started, nor for my returning to him continually for more abuse.
I still feel ashamed, even though I know I should not...
When will it go away?
I am soon to be married in August, to my fiance..a lady who has loved me, and giving me so much support, though she knows only the barest details of my past, she knows I have lived in my own version of hell, and yet still loves me.
I want to trust her enough to let her know my story, but it scares me so much, so ashamed, and guilty.
When does it stop?