Memories.... continues

The worst part about growing up with Brad was the constant fear we lived in. When I got to be about 9 years old, he started telling me that "one of these nights, when you're done taking a bath, I'm gonna catch you and I'm gonna rape you!" At the time, I didn't know what "rape" was. I remember asking my mother what it meant. She was curious where I had heard the word. I didn't want to tell her and I think she assumed that I had heard it from school. She never did tell me what it meant. One night, however, Brad made good on his threat. It happened to be one night when my parents were gone and Brad was left in charge. My parents would go on dates almost every Saturday night. Brad was at the age where he could babysit and my brother Mason could help (I know… crazy, huh?). I was getting ready for bed as I did every night. I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around me and Brad was standing in the doorway to my room blocking my way. He had this smile on his face that made me sick to my stomach.  I didn’t know for sure what he had in mind I only remember becoming so frightened that I shook;  I turned and started to run down the stairs, but he caught me by the hair before I could reach the first step causing me to fall backwards on to my back and knocking the wind out of me.  I started trying to claw my way to the stairs, grabbing carpet and screaming. Brad now had me by the ankle of my right leg and started dragging me towards my room. I turned onto my back and started kicking him with my left leg, trying to get him to let go. I knew at this point, that I was totally exposed from the waist down, but I didn't care, I just knew I had to get away from him. I was more afraid of what he was going to do to me when he got me into my room. I knew that Mason and my other siblings were downstairs and I also knew that they could hear me screaming, they had to.... why was no one was helping me? When Brad eventually dragged me into my bedroom, he locked the door and turned me onto my stomach using his body weight. My bedroom, I shared with my 3 other sisters. It was unusually large because the previous owners had taken two bedrooms, which were upstairs and removed the wall in between them to make it one large room. The room adjacent to "The Girls Room" was what we called the "Blue Room.”, .because my mother painted it this sky blue color. There was also a room downstairs off of the family room, which was an obvious addition to the house. My brothers shared the downstairs room and they would all take turns living in the "Blue" room upstairs, adjacent to the girls room.  The door stop on the door to the girls room and long been taken off by someone in our family and after years of slamming our bedroom door open and shut, the handle of our bedroom door created a hole in the wall, which could act as a pass through between the girls room and the "Blue Room". We usually kept a pillow or something in there so that whom ever was occupying the room at the time couldn’t watch us dress; but it was easy enough to remove from either side. The remainder of this experience is still somewhat of a blur; although, I remember vividly lying on the ground, the side of my face being pushed into the carpet as Brad lay on top of me from behind. I recall crying the entire time; just sobbing.  It hurt so much.   I saw the pillow in the hole to the "Blue Ream" move and I knew someone was there. Someone could see. Mason.  But but he didn't  help; he just sat and watched.  I remember just laying in a ball on the carpet when Brad was finally finished with me.  I can't remember exactly how long I layed there, but I know it was a long enough time.  Eventually, I got up and went back to the bathroom.  I was bleeding and I was scared.  What would my parents do to me if they found out?  Would I be in trouble?  They couldn't know...... no one could know.  I wish I could say that this was a solitary event.  I wish I could say that I got Brad in the end, but this is not one of those stories.  Events such as this continued up until I was about 11 years old.  Afterward s, Brad would always tell me how filthy I was. How ugly I was. How much he was going to enjoy killing me someday. I believed him. It was around this time, that I started showing signs of OCD.  I would tape off the section of my room with duct tape which was mine. I kept that space impeccably clean and would go into panic attacks if anyone stepped within that taped area. I would take showers that lasted for hours. My mother would get so mad at me because I would take all the hot water . I would stay up in my room for hours, but I never wanted the door dosed. If the door closed, I would have panic attacks and would sometimes pass out. I was still waking up in middle of the night screaming. It was about this time that I started staying at the gym until very late in the evening.  anything to keep from having to go home and face the nightmares.   I had been a gymnast since I was about 5. I would often stay at the gym hours after practice focusing solely on one dismount, or one floor combination or one bar routine and I would do it over and over again until it was perfect .... Which it never was.   I know my coach worried about me; he would often ask if things were o.k. at home. I never knew what to say to him, so I always said, "Things are fine coach."  I don’t know why I never told him, or anyone else for that matter.  Especially not my parents.  I was so ashamed of it and of myself.  When the rapes eventually started to subside I knew that Brad had turned his attention onto my younger sister Marie, who was 4 years younger than me. Although I never saw anything, I could tell just by how Marie started acting that she had taken my place. I'm ashamed today to admit, I was relieved.