When you go through a traumatic event your brain blocks out the worst parts and destroys those memories. Kind of like when your computer crashes, and it goes into self-preservation mode in order to protect your files and what not. Most people don't even realize that this little houdini trick even happened, but for some reason I do. For some reason I know my brain is keeping things from me.
    Something about that night, it's not right, there are too many blank spots. Why the hell can't I remember? Okay, what DO I remember? I remember dim lights. The faint sound of television. It was late at night and no one was awake, except me and him. I remember I was wearing blue shorts and a tank top. The living room, it happened in the living room. Then it cuts to him touching, rubbing, kissing me. I remember the slight smell of alcohol on his breath, I remember feeling him breath on my neck and face.
      I don't remember how I got into the living room, or where I was before it. I don't remember what made him stop. Whats worst is I can't remember everything he did to me. It just cuts to me laying in my dark room staring at the ceiling. I remember nothing, but I know there's more. This memory is split up into fragments. Why do I want to remember something so horrible so badly? Closure, I want closure. I want to know exactly what that bastard did to me.
      He was so much older than me, did I even try to fight? It's so frustrating, to want to remember but when you try, nothing…Just black. Was I scared? Did I ask for it? I have to know what happened. I have to. This is going to eat at me. Did anyone know the next day what events had taken place on the couch in our very own living room. I know I didn't have the courage to tell anyone, after all he told me not to. I had heard about kids being molested, I never knew it would be me.
      Your home is supposed to be a safe haven. A place you feel safe, where the evils of the world won't get you. What happens when you invite someone your family has known for years into your home and he turns out to be a monster, preying on the weak and innocent. I was innocent before him. He took that from me. Even though my brain has blocked out most of it, I was never the same. That night changed me for as long as I will live.
      There has to be a reason I hold so much pure hatred for this man. I despise him. He's sick, he knows what he did, and he goes on with his life not giving it a second thought. I wish I would've told back then, I wish he would of went to jail to rot. He's part of the reason I am the way I am. He's part of the reason I can't seem to express love the way everyone else. Love is sex to me.
      I don't think he had sex with me, but I know it could of came to that if he had kept going. I know it didn't stop after touching, but it didn't go as far as sex. Shouldn't this memory stick out more than anything? It doesn't. I pushed it to the depths of my mind for so long, that bringing it out now is like bringing out old newspaper out of a water damaged box, pieces are torn and missing.
     
     Countless times I've sat here squeezing my eyes shut trying to kick my brain into hyper-drive and pick something, anything up. But nothing comes, just black. Almost like the director forgot a scene in his movie. I try to just move on, and accept that I will never remember. Part of me will not let that happen, it's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I can't seem to shake it.
       It's not like I can ask him, "What exactly happened the night you molested me?" I wouldn't get a truthful answer. Why would he answer such a question? I remember him saying I can't tell my brothers, so there was something else. There's more.

   It's all become clear. I know what you did you vile bastard. I know the events that took place that night. You came to me first. You walked down that hall way went to my bed room and asked me to come into the living room with you, you had your sick sights set on an innocent 11 year old girl. As I sat on the couch next to you, you kissed my neck, you kissed my lips, you kissed my chest, you kissed my stomach. Your dirty hands crept down my body and rubbed my legs and under my shorts. You touched me. You took something from me I'll never get back. I know why you kept jumping back at every little noise. You KNEW exactly what you were doing, and you kept doing it. You're damaged inside and you had to make me damaged too.
   WHY. Why did you pick me? Why did you choose a child over a grown woman? We trusted you, we let you stay when you had no where to go. You took the first opportunity you saw to feed your forbidden needs. How many other girls have you hurt? You're a father yourself, you should understand.
   You've scarred me for life, I will never be the same. You shaped who I am today. You're the reason I can't trust! You're the reason I can't believe ANYTHING ANYONE says! Do you understand what you've done to me? You ruined me! And you walk around like you did nothing wrong.
    I hope it eats at you someday, I hope you lose your mind. I hope you feel the pain I feel. I hope someday you realize you're the reason for so much turmoil. I hope you get what's coming to you. I hope someone, anyone finds out you touched a little girl. I hope you lose everything. I hate you with all I have inside me.
   Walk with your head down —— ——-, hang it low. You are what this country hates most. A child molester.

I know there is probably a slew of grammar/punctuation mistakes, but just know I wrote this off the top of my head mainly to get it off my chest. It was a secret I kept for 7 years.

This was taken from my blog on myspace.

xo