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Raped at twelve….

Never the same
Never the sameMicrosoft

This is the true story of a woman who has lived many decades, and has gained many life experiences. However, one life event was an act of evil executed by another person; she was raped at age twelve. The boy who did it to her was a person she once called her friend. To clear his guilt, he amassed many community leader awards. His wall is filled with plaques; she still carries the scars of him taking her innocence. This is her story; the names have been changed. It is very graphic, and she wrote it as if she were twelve again. Too long has she been silent….too long many of us have been silent.

The big day had arrived. After weeks of picking out a special dress for this glorious occasion, I was finally in the car and on the way. I was to take part of my brother’s wedding day.

At the ripe age of twelve, I anxiously awaited for this happy occasion. It was a joyful day, but filled with, and touched with, a silent sadness, for my brother was going to leave me. My love for my brother was greater than any love I had known.

However, I did not know that this celebration would be dimmed by horror. This event would change the entire course of my life, an innocent child, with an undying love for “Big Brother.”

The house was small, but cast a feeling of comfort as you stepped across the threshold. There standing proud and straight was my handsome brother, suited in his United States Marine uniform. He looked happy with his new bride as they shared their first piece of wedding cake. Oh how I loved my brother! I suddenly felt sick to my stomach as I watched him give her the kiss of approval. In that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same around the house without him. I grew sad and started to cry. My brother noticed my tears, then knelt down and put his arm around me to ask why I was crying. I didn’t know how to tell him that I wanted him to come back home, and that I was going to miss him so much, and I suddenly didn’t like his new bride. With all these unspoken words, he gently wiped away the little-girl tears, then put his strong arms around my tiny body, picked me up and spoke these forever remembered words, ”Faye, you’re my girl, you’re my little baby sister, you were my first love, a very special love that won’t ever go away. I may not get to see you as often now, but always remember I’ll be just a phone call away for the rest of your life. I will always be there for you….forever…I love you very much and I want you to be happy with me…ok? Now, let’s go have some fun.”

Seeing this exhibit of love, and the tears on my face, a friend came and asked if I would like to take a walk, maybe it would make me feel better. This young man of fourteen was my new sister-in-law’s brother. After granting permission we started on a journey that will haunt me the rest of my life.

As I walked with my friend through the heavy wooded area, I asked, “Are you sure you know where you are going? Do you know where we are?”

He simply said, “Yes, I know.”

The trees were tall pines as they towered above me and the grass was thick as my small feet anchored into the bed of green and golden foliage. The foliage led to a path which led to an opening, showing nothing but bare dirt, red as hard molded clay. Upon entering the center of the open space, much to my child-like surprise, I was thrown down face first to know taste, smell, and feel the rough raw clay dirt of life. Once down, I was then forced onto my back and out of nowhere six boys appeared, making a complete circle around me. I was terribly frightened and asked my friend to take me home.

Instead of him giving into my wishes, I was once again forced into giving him his wishes. As he fell on top of me, pinning me down with his strong body, I looked into his eyes and asked, “What are you doing, you are my friend?”

The circle of six drew closer and closer, so close I could feel their hot breath as they peered at my now bare breasts. His left arm was pressing my hands deeply into the red dirt. I saw him with a fast swoop unzip his pants, pulling out something I had never seen before…something so very long and hard….hard like a telephone pole…straight and sturdy. I demanded, “What are you doing?”

With a harsh voice, he replied, “It won’t’ hurt, and if you keep your mouth shut and be quiet, I won’t tell anyone you did something really, really bad.”

At that moment, I didn’t know just what I had done that was so bad. I was now very scared and confused.

As he spoke to me, I could feel our audience as they started breathing heavier and heavier. Before I knew it, he had my shorts and panties down to my ankles. I lay naked, exposing myself to the word and feeling the cold earth and the slight breeze of Mother Nature rippling across my body. As his tongue slid across my tiny pale nipples, they grew had and tense…I was horrified…what is happening to me? Should I scream, or should I keep quiet as I was told? I didn’t know what to do…I just started praying. His short fat fingers ran across my body; I must close my eyes, so not to see the intruder. His moist fingers from the sweat of his quivering body gently entered my body. Oh my God, what is he doing I thought closing my eyes so tightly that I even could not see the darkness! I kept quiet as demanded.

The finger acted in a repetitive motion up and down, then in and out of my virgin body. I felt moistness between my spread out legs, I opened my eyes to see blood on his finger. I started crying and saying, “What have you done to me? You are killing me aren’t you?”

He grabbed my face and with a hard squeeze, he said, “Shut up, or I’ll go back and tell your brother what you did and if you ever tell anyone about this, I will get a gun and kill your brother, then I’ll look for you and kill you too, so you better promise me right now you’ll never tell a soul.”

He then released my face as he kissed the tears from my cheeks. With a swift movement, he inserted his hard boy part where his finger had primed the entry. He started pumping, like doing push-ups. The drops of salty sweat beaded up on his forehead and dripped onto what was once my innocent face.

After the regiment was over, he got up with a smile on his face, starring into the eyes of the onlookers. One boy standing in the circle, his pants down around his ankles threw him a towel. He leaned down on his knees to wipe away my horrifying tears; he continued down my entire body. He raised my now stained panties and shorts to complete the event. With a strong pull of his hand, he brought my now shaking body to a stand. He put arms around me and said, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He walked me to a friend’s house where he cleaned me up. As we approached his small frame house, he stopped and with a look of death, he said, “Not a word, you understand?”

I did not reply; he grabbed me by the arms, and with a loud yell, “Do you understand? I will kill you both, but your brother first!”

I said, “Yes, I understand. I understand.”

He said, “Then stop your damn crying, go inside, tell your mother you don’t feel well, and you would like to go to bed.”

In the dark of the night I walked with trembling legs to the front porch to be greeted by my loving brother saying, “Girl, I was getting worried about you guys, glad you’re back.

My friend said, “Oh, she just got a little scared, you know how afraid of the dark she is.”

My brother said, “Yes, I know, but as long as I am around, she doesn’t have to be afraid of anything.”

I quickly went to my room and never told. Both my parents and my brother went to their graves not ever knowing any of my horror on his wedding day.

After year and years of mental self-torture, now being the ripe age of 18, this friend showed up at my front door. Seeing him get out of the car, I hurried to my room so mother would answer the door. My mother called to my bedroom, “Faye come and see who’s here.”

She was glad to see him after so many years and thought I should feel the same. As I approached the room, I felt faint and sick to my stomach, turned around and flew back to my room. My mother entered and asked, “Faye, are you ok?” Why don’t you come see who’s here to visit with you?”

I told her, “Mother, I’m fine, and I‘ll be there in a minute.”

She anxiously left my room of secrets to get back visiting. I prayed, “Lord, give me the strength you have given me all these years, don’t fail me now.”

I went to the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror and said, “You can do this, because you are a strong survivor.”

With soft steps, I entered the room. Our eyes met and with tears now flowing down his face, he said, “Hello Faye, how are you?”

I stated very proudly, “I’m just fine, thank you.”

Mother asked him, “Are you okay?”

He said, “Yes, I am just happy to see you all.”

Mother said, “Why don’t you two go out to the swing; I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

She left to go back to her kitchen needs. With a fearful look, and in a kindly manner, he said, “Please Faye, let’s go on the porch. Just the porch, I promise. I really need to talk to you, please, its daylight and your parents are here for God’s sake, and please it is very important.”

As my shaking knees attempted the first step, my body froze, and I couldn’t move. He stepped over to where I stood, gently touching my arm, and in a light whisper, he said, “I’m sorry, so very sorry. Please come to the porch.”

His touch was different. It was gentle It was a crazy thought, but it was a spiritual touch. Out of nowhere I felt my hand reach for his. Now hand in hand, he led me to the front porch and gently sat me in the swing.

“Faye, I have waited so many years to tell you just how sorry I am. There isn’t a night goes by that I don’t think about you. I pray for the Lord to forgive me, I’m told that he will forgive me, but it’s your forgiveness that I need. I stole your youth, your happy innocent years away from you. I raped you and you lived in silence for so many years. I caused you so much grief and sorrow.”

Now on bended knees, it’s not a towel he has in his hands but a cross.

In the begging of his voice, he said, “I know I cannot give you back what I have taken away. I will live with that for the rest of my life. At the age of 17, I found the Lord and in finding him I saw all the wrong I did. You could have sent me to jail for the rest of my life, but you didn’t. I thank you for that. Because you didn’t ever tell, I have dedicated my life to the Lord. I would like you to have this cross for now I have my own cross to bear. I realize you can’t forgive me, but please, someday, try. I tried for many years to put these words on paper to you, but I couldn’t. That would have been the easy way out. I will live the rest of my life for you and all the things I took from you. Please accept this cross as a true sign of forgiveness.”

I took the cross and never saw him again until 1999 when I was at a family gathering, my brother dead now.

I entered his home and was greeted by his wife of 28 years, his children, and grandchildren, all with bright smiling faces of beauty. As they welcomed me into their home, I noticed his walls were full of Outstanding Citizenship Awards, along with mountains of Outstanding Achievement Awards from the Boy Scouts, plus his church awards.

His wife simply said, “Your friend is in the back yard, and I know he is anxious to see you. You kids have a lot to catch up on.” She proudly showed me the way outside.

With my stomach churning and my heart pounding, I walked across the yard. Our eyes met, he smiled and said, “Thank you so much Faye. You look great. How have you been?”

He walked over to me; put my hand in his, very kindly, he wrapped his strong arms around my body to create a warm and welcome hug. He slowly pulled away, and with tears in his eyes, he said, “Thank you so much for what you have given me. I shall never forget you. You will be in my last moment of my life. Thank you for coming today.”

His wall was full of awards; he was honored for the good works he had done to relieve the guilt of what he did to me. My wall was not covered with awards. I carried scars, the scars of a twelve- year-old girl, brutally raped.