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60 Seconds Is All It Takes...

Before we get into today's update, I want to apologize for slacking on posting. I got really busy and it got harder and harder to come back on here and finish this story for you all. Which, being where I am at now, is quite ironic, to be honest. I hate to come back to such a dark part of the story. Good news is, I am back haha! I also started school back up again and plan on finishing my degree finally!! So yay me! 🥳

DISCLAIMER: Mentions of sexual abuse, child abuse, sexual trauma, and child neglect.


PLEASE, if at any point this post gets too tough to read feel free to skip past it. This is the darkest part of my story and it should be noted that most people have an extremely tough time keeping it together when this is brought up.


After the deal we made I obviously felt awful. I lost a sense of myself at only 16 years old. I had no identity anymore and was just a shell of a person. I cant remember what exactly I did, but it was something dumb with some boyfriend or guy I liked. Like I have mentioned before, my memory of high school is for the most part wiped clean except for the dark parts of my home life with Bruce. Somehow he found out about whatever I did and I knew I was in danger.


As I am sure you can guess, he wanted more. And he knew that I would do anything to not be in trouble or to look like a bad kid in my mother's eyes. He used this once again to his advantage. He said unless I did something he wanted, he was going to tell my mother everything. Not just whatever he caught me with that day but with Sam coming over and the photos he found on my phone. All would be revealed. Me being terrified of course asked what he wanted... I wish I never did... I can't remember what he initially requested, all I remember is what happened after our "bargaining".


This is where you will want to leave if you don't feel comfortable reading the worst part of it all... so... you have been warned... good luck...


He made me go to the bathroom and take a shower. He made me confused.

He made me shave my feminine area. He made me worried.

He made me meet him in his and my mom's bedroom. He made me fearful.

He made me wear only the towel wrapped around me. He made me terrified.

He made me sit down on his side of the bed, my legs hanging off the side. He made me small.

He made me unwrap myself from the towel. He made me naked.

He made me leave part of it under me. He made me cold.

He made me lay down with my head in the middle of their bed. He made me blind.

He made me open my legs. He made me tremble.

He made me lay still. He made me confined.

He made me feel his mouth between my legs. He made me ashamed.

He made me shut up and stop crying. He made me muffled.

He made me feel his tongue inside me. He made me disgusted.

He made me shut up and stop crying. He made me quiet.

He made me stare at the clock. He made me distracted.

He made me focus on the shamrock green of the numbers. He made me observant.

He made me watch the slow blink of the analog colon. He made me attentive.

He made me shut up and stop crying. He made me voiceless.

He made me wait. He made me worthless.

He made me wait. He made me hollow.

He made me wait...

He made me wait...

He made me wait... sixty seconds.


The second the minutes on the clock changed, I screamed, I yelled. GET OFF. GET BACK. STOP. I grabbed the towel, wrapped myself up and looked down at the floor. In the corner on my eye I noticed a milky liquid running down his right leg of his shorts. I ran to my bathroom sobbing and turned the water as hot as it could go and got in. I used about a quarter of my bottle of body wash and poured it on my loofah. The rest of it, I poured directly on my body. I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until I burned between my legs. I needed to get the filth of him off me as soon as I could, however I could. I would have taken a bleach bath if I had it available. I still had clothes in the bathroom from when he made me shower so I out them on and ran into my bedroom and locked the door. I sobbed and sobbed until nothing was left inside me. About an hour later my mother came home and it was like nothing even happened. I was too scared to say anything. Scared of him. Scared of what could happen next. Scared because I didn't even know what had happened in the first place. I didn't know what oral sex was at that age.


I wish I could say this was the end... I really do, but it wasn't. It happened again. One other time. Again, I don't remember what I did wrong but the exact same situation happened again. I shower. I lie down. I wait. I stare. I cry. I scrub. After the second time though... it really TRULY was over. Completely over. The nightmare was done. My mom still never knew but I knew, it was over. He was done with me. That was the last time he ever did anything to me or demanded anything of me.


Later that year I graduated high school. Early too, at 17 years old. I got a job where I worked nights and I was also going to college to get some basic core classes under my belt. Around this time was when I met Anthony. That story however, is for another day. And is significantly less traumatizing, but still life-ruining in its own way.


For those of you who were able to read until the end, I commend you and respect you. I know it is really hard to hear about these things happening to people. I hope that with this story out for the world to see as well as me taking every opportunity to advocate for the cause, there will be less people dealing with the constant pain. I hope I can help everyone to understand that you are strong enough to get through it, no matter how rough it gets, you will rise up from the ashes and be a stronger, more badass person than you could have ever imagined. Let your pain and trauma drive you to be better and to rewrite your story. Be your own hero(ine) and never let doubt or fear hold you back.


Rise up,


Phoenix

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