Molestation: A Victim's Story

At nine years old most young girls are playing with dolls or having tea-parties, however, at nine years old my world was thrown for a loop and everything as I knew it had changed. When I was nine years old my father molested me, so instead of dolls and tea-parties, I had to recall the events that had proceeded during the summer. Instead of being excited for making friends in the school year to come, instead my family and I were focused on police reports and trials. At the time the incident happened, I was still jaded about the world around me, but no longer did I see the world in such a sweet rose colored glass manner. When he did this to me, I had no clue was molestation was, I had no clue that what he had done was a bad thing, or how it was going to change my life forever. My father took a big part of my childhood with him that summer; those are times I will never get back.

The events still run through my head clear as when they happened, it's almost like a song you just can't get out of your head, no matter how hard you try. The crisp summer air gently tickled at my nose as a soft cool breeze drifted in through the open windows. After taking off my swimsuit and wiping off the last of the crystal blue pool water I had spent the past few hours swimming in, I heard a noise behind me. At nine years old I was just beginning to get shy about my body, but felt no need to cover up my naked body, considering my dad and I were the only ones home. As I stood there naked, and the cold pool water still dripping from my drenched hair, my dad made his way into the room. He began tickling me, and I crawled to my brother's bed, as laughter filled the room. However, soon that laughter was silenced, replaced by my cries. As my dad stood over me tickling me, his hand began to move lower on my body, until he reached my vagina. He then proceeded to stick his fingers inside me, as his finger reached inside, it began to hurt. Confused as to what he was doing and in pain, I let out a scream as tears began to fall down my face. After about five minutes my dad finally stopped and left the room. Of course at my frail age, I had no idea what had just occurred so I got dressed and continued on with my everyday life. A couple of days later, I was sitting on the sun porch watching cartoons, my little brother was running around the couch, and my dad was in the shower. After about ten minutes in the shower, my dad made his way to the sun porch in nothing but a towel. As he stood there with water still dripping off of him, he removed his towel and made his way over to me. Then he proceeded to tickle me again, only this time I was fully clothed and he was dry-humping me. My little brother just continued to run around the couch completely unaware of what was going on, and again I was so young that I didn't think anything of it at the time. I spent the rest of my time there, like any other kid would during the summer; swimming the days away, playing in the yard, climbing trees, and watching cartoons. It wasn't until I had returned home that I would understand the situation fully.

My sister and her friend were sitting in our shared bedroom and talking about what they had learned in the sex education class earlier that day. As they sat there talking about the male anatomy, and condoms, I realized what my dad had done. When they finished their discussion I explained to my sister what my dad had done to me. I still remember the look on my sister's face, and to confusion I felt that day. She then told me we had to tell my mom what he had done. I still hadn't fully grasped the concept that what he did was wrong, so I was terrified to tell my mom because I thought I was going to get into trouble. I remember standing there with my sister, and her pushing me down the hallway, telling me that I had to tell mom. I was shaking and so nervous about telling her. Had my sister not pushed me to tell my mom, I am not sure I would've told anyone. My mom looked so devastated when I told her; it broke my heart to see her so upset. Once she calmed down she picked up the phone and called my dad to ask him if his hand slipped when he was tickling me, she just had a hard time believing he did this to me on purpose but when he said no that his hand did not slip anywhere, she knew he was lying and had molested me.

The weeks after that night were full of phone calls, questions, and appointments. My mom immediately called child services because she had no idea who to call about such an incident. Once they assured my mom that she had done the right thing, they began to set everything up for us, so we could take the necessary actions to prevent this from happening again. Unfortunately I don't remember much of what happened after that night, because they didn't want to affect me anymore then I already had been. However, I do remember when it came time to file the police report; I was still too scared to talk to a man about what had happened, so they had to pull a female police officer off the field to come do the report for me. After about three years we finally went to trial and my dad was allowed to plea down. When it came time for the trial, they felt that I was still too vulnerable and didn't want to put me through anymore trauma. Instead my mom did a victims impact letter, which is where she was able to give me a voice without me being present. However, due to the fact that I wasn't present my dad got a reduced sentence. In the end justice wasn't served, because he was out in less than four months with good behavior.

For months after the incident, I wouldn't sleep until all the window and doors were all closed and locked. I was convinced he was going to come and exact revenge on me. To this day I am still haunted by the terrors of my past. Trying to have a relationship is very difficult for me. I find it hard to trust anyone and to let them get close to me. This is something I will have to live with the rest of my life, and some days are easier than others. One other major repercussion of this was losing my whole dads side of the family. He and my grandfather were the only ones who knew how to contact me, and when he was arrested they cut all ties with me. For years I have struggled with the loss of my family, but most of all I struggled with the loss of my brother. My little brother grew up not know his big sister, not having me there to give him advice. It had always felt like a piece of my heart was missing because I didn't have him. I set out and made it my life goal to find him and reconnect with him, and about six months ago I finally got the opportunity to do so. Knowing that he is safe and wants to get to know me has made carrying this burden a bit easier. However, no matter what I do this will always be a part of me. He has affected my life in a way that no one ever could. One day though, I will get into a successful relationship, and finally be able to move on from this.

This was by far the most difficult thing I have gone through in my whole life, and yet I don't ever regret telling anyone about him. Had I not told him he could have continued to hurt me or moved on to someone else. For years I blamed myself for this happening to me, and yet now I realize it had nothing to do with me. To this day I am still affected by what he has done to me, but I find comfort in the fact that I might have prevented someone else from going through what I went through.