In my early years, I was forced to grow up fast. At the age of 8, I was raped and molested by three guys. I was terrified of any and all guys in my life. My cousins, dad, brother (who is younger), friends, everyone. I isolated myself in my room and went mute. I didn’t talk to anyone for about a year. In third grade is when the bullying started.
My life became a living nightmare. I was bullied, abused, and alone. I would get called a slut, whore, nobody, worthless. I would get shut in lockers and pushed into walls. My mum’s new boyfriend, my parents are divorced, would keep me up all night. He was verbally abusive towards me and would threaten to throw me across the room. I would wake up to him in my room in the middle of the night.
After they broke up I was on my own. My mum was working and my dad was not around anymore due to the divorce. It was just me and my younger brother. I would help take care of him when the babysitter was on her phone or asleep. She never watched over us. I became one of the worst children. I would lie, steal, and fight. By the time I got into 4th grade, I had gotten the nickname “Killer” because of all the fights I’ve gotten into. I was aggressive and violent.
The aggressiveness and violent side of me kinda disappeared in 5th grade. I made friends and stopped stealing things. 5th grade was not only a decent year, but it was also a year of loss. That year of 2012 was one of the worst. I lost my cousin in a car crash. He helped raise me. He was my best friend, babysitter, brother, universe. When he died a giant part of me died with him. Every school day was the same. I would cry during recess, spend most of the day in the bathroom and get bullied. When people found out about my cousin’s death, the bullying got worse. They made fun of my cousin for dying. Later that same year my uncle died. I kept my mouth shut about that.
But yeah, that’s my story from my elementary days.