I have decided to tell my story. I am at the time of writing this 24.

Somewhere through the years an uncle tried to molest me. He climbed into bed next to me, and tried to touch me. I managed to wriggle out of his arms, get out of bed, and went and stood in the kitchen by his wife. I never spent the night there again. A few years later my family went to visit another aunt and uncle. I woke up during the night to find my cousin sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me. He asked me if I would please 'make love with' him. I said no. He said that he wanted to sit by me until I fell asleep. I pretended to fall asleep and he left. Although these two incidents have stuck in my mind, I can easily live past them. What I am having a problem dealing with is what Douglas did.

Douglas touched me for months first - I can not even guess how many. I wet my bed for many years, and nobody could understand why. When I went to school I had no Self-confidence, and was very unpopular. When I reached the age of about ten I started remembering Douglas touching me. My parents had not been friends with his parents anymore for years by then. I first remembered the feeling of fear, and then slowly more details, bit by bit. I can not remember every detail, but I will tell you what I do remember.

It happened in my parent's bedroom, on their bed. At first it was only cuddling and talking and watching t.v. I recalled loving the attention and having somebody take my opinion seriously. With time I started remembering Douglas touching my privates; first above my panties and later with his hand inside my panties. I was between five and six years old, and I did not know what to do. I did not like the feeling, but it did not hurt either. In my childhood mind the older person knew better.

It was after those memories had returned that I decided to tell my mother about what had happened. I approached her in the kitchen, and told her that Douglas had touched me during the time we had known them. I will never forget the look of shock and hurt and horror on her face; or the feeling of shame that washed over me in that instant. I never mentioned a word about it to either of my parents again.

The next memories returned only about a year later. Those were the memories that really started to hurt, emotionally as well as physically. I was still about six, and he started putting his finger inside of me. At first he only put it in a short way. He was fully grown, and it hurt my small body. I told him that I did not like it, that I wanted him to stop, but he did not stop. I can not recall how he kept me silent, but I did not tell anyone. His next step (weeks later) was to make me touch him, and stroke his hard member. The first time that he put my hand on it, it felt slimy and cold and horrible - and I pulled my hand away. Douglas calmly and deliberately took my hand in his, put my hand around his member (although it could not fit all the way around), closed his hand over mine and slowly moved our hands up and down. I was crying then, telling him that I did not want to and did not like it, asking him to stop. Douglas just ignored me, and carried on. After a while I remember him moaning with pleasure, "Ohh, that's nice!" Those words have haunted me since I recalled them, I can still hear them echo in my mind, in his voice, exactly as he uttered them. I do not want it to have been nice for him. That same day he put his finger inside of me again, only deeper this time. I cried and begged him to stop. It hurt a lot. He simply said, "It will be nice for you one day, and then you will be glad that I did it now." He also said that if I told my mother he would have to do it again, as these were natural things that a girl had to go through, and he had to do them until I could handle them properly. I created a mental block to take it away.

The memories stopped at that point for a long time, and I thought that that was all of it.

When I reached standard eight, I started writing poetry. My work was all sad and largely negative. It was this that caused my mother to ask me if Douglas had raped me. I said 'No' (because to my knowledge he had not), and my parents never mentioned it to me again. About a year after that I began to wonder if I was remembering everything that Douglas had done. Why else did I know certain feelings so well? I wanted to go for hypnosis, but did not want to ask my parents to send me; I remembered that look on my mother's face all too well. For years it drove me crazy not knowing, but only Douglas could give me the answers I wanted, and I fear him too much to ever face him. It also drives me crazy wondering if he is doing it to other girls. I know what he is, how could I let it carry on; but I am too afraid to do anything. In my matric year I met my husband. We were dating for about a month when I told him about Douglas. He forced me to face it. I could not even bring myself to say Douglas' name, but he told me to say his name out loud. I was in tears, and it took me about half an hour but eventually I said, "DOUGLAS! Okay now are you happy?" He made me say Douglas' name over and over, until I could say it; and he made me talk to him about what had happened. That was the first time that I started facing what had happened. I spoke of his hair, face and voice; which I can still visualise and hear in my mind perfectly. Every personal detail of his scent, sound and look is still so vivid in my mind. I wrote and spoke about it, and thought I was coping unusually well, but I still wondered if there was more to remember. My husband and I were dating for about a year when I saw Douglas again. It felt like ice up the back of my spine and I froze, I think in shock. My husband asked me if it was Douglas, and after I said that it was, he took my hand and told me to just walk past him. Douglas was smoking a cigarette, and while we walked past he watched me with a very smug expression on his face, whilst blowing smoke into the air. I was in an emotional turmoil. I still remember that look on his face now; it was as if he was thinking, 'I know you intimately, sexually, I touched you first.' After that my emotional state was not as good anymore. I would be fine, but about every three months I would break down, or go into a depression and it hurt.

About a year after I got married my husband and I went on holiday to the sea. I had been praying to be able to remember if more had happened than I knew about, and that night I had a nightmare. In my nightmare I was little, and scared, and Douglas was very slowly but deliberately raping me. The whole of the next day, (after the nightmare), I could feel that terrible pain in my stomach.

I went through a lot of doubt after that, I wondered if that had really happened or if I had created it in my mind. I had wanted to know so desperately for so many years, that I could have invented an answer. It was also possible that it was just a nightmare based on my fear of Douglas. I still had no answer, and once again the idea of hypnosis presented itself, but I was afraid.

My emotional phases continued for about another year and a half, until I reached a low point. I went into a bad depression and held on to the feeling for days. This depression was so bad that I did not want to eat, or smile, or feel better, or allow myself to cheer up. It felt as if I wanted to hold on to the feeling for as long as I possibly could. It was then that I decided to go to a psychiatrist, who could also do hypnosis. After about three sessions we decided to try hypnosis. At first it was only for relaxation, but afterwards we started trying to regress into the past. My sub-conscious would not allow us to go back to that time at first, but eventually it did.

Douglas made me lie on my right hand side facing him. After a while of cuddling and watching t.v., he pulled down my panties and his pants. I was six at the time, and I felt a terrible chill of fear. He touched my private parts for a while, and then moved closer and held me. It felt so wrong, but I was afraid. I could feel something unpleasant pushing against my skin, and the fear got worse. He moved until I was looking into his hairy chest, and positioned his erect member between my legs. It felt so big, and thick and uncomfortable. I was crying saying, "I didn't tell my mommy anything! I didn't tell my mommy anything!" I felt the strangest feeling in my chest like I could not breathe, and my heart was beating fast. He pushed it in very slowly, a little bit at a time. As in the nightmare he had a facecloth, which he had put on the bedside table. He had known what he was going to do, planned it. I still do not want to accept that someone can purposefully do that to a child, but he did. Anyway when I felt warm sticky fluid between my legs, he stopped to wipe it off with the facecloth. He did it very slowly, pushing it in a bit deeper, and then stopping to wipe away the blood, and stroke my hair, and talk soothingly to me, and then pushing again. That pain in my stomach during my nightmare was real, it was so sore that it felt like I wanted to pee. I do not know if he realises it, but doing it so slowly probably made it more painful and terrible because every time I thought a wave of pain was over he pushed further, and there was a new wave of pain. It was very, very slow, and it hurt like I can not explain, and inside my mind it still hurts today. I suppose it always will.

Not long after he raped me, the friendship between our parents thankfully broke up. Who knows how many times it would have happened if the friendship had stayed, but God was kind and it only happened once.

Since I went for help and found out the truth, I have felt much better. My life can now go on. I have been luckier than most. I have a good life, and things will be okay. Still sometimes when I think about it too much, I still get that terrible pain inside my stomach.

If you would like to e-mail me, you are most welcome to. My e-mail address is [email protected]

I wish anybody on this site the best of strength and courage, and I want to let you know that you are not alone.

All the best

Sharon

Update October 6, 2003

Hi sweetie.

I have an update for your site. I will still write to you and ask you a few questions about why it is that all of this crap is upsetting me now. I don't really need all this nonsense, but I suppose it is a new aspect that I need to deal with.

It is now the end of September 2003 and I am 28. I have coped very well and been extremely lucky, but something can now be added to my story. Since I wrote my story for this site, my husband has left me for another woman. After ten years and two children he simply left us for somebody else. I had a year of hell, but I did a lot of work on myself and came out of it a better person and a better mother. My two little angels are the best little boys I could ever have been blessed with and my life is complete.

I did all my sessions and dealing with what happened and all is generally okay. I think that it is probably because I am in a stronger mental state now than before that two nights ago my subconscious mind decided to open up completely and let me remember everthing in detail. Nothing physical happened over and above what was in my original story, but the mental aspect of the whole situation is quite disturbing to me right now ? what was actually said at the time.

Douglas made me believe that my Mother was aware of what was happening. It was as if this was something that I needed to learn to do and he was teaching me. Everything that he did was part of the learning process and if I did not react properly or did anything that he did not like, then he would have to do it again and my Mother would be dissappointed in me.

I have often wondered about a few little details which have always eluded me, and now I have my answers. My memory of the actual insertion just ended while he was still moving deeper. Now I saw the end of that scene in my mind. At the first moment of insertion I was told to relax and it would be better for me. With the first tears I got comforted and told that it was okay, but once I had calmed down and he went deeper and I started crying again I got told that if I cried too much he would have to do it again, until I could handle it properly, and my Mother would feel let down. I really tried not to cry, but it just hurt too much. I got told that I was not doing too well, but it was okay and he was there for me and he knew that eventually I would get it right. I did get spoken too soothingly and the blood did get wiped away and my hair did get stroked softly, but I also did get threatened to behave and be brave.

As soon as he got to the point where he felt he could push no further he spontaneously came. I had always wondered about that, but did not remember and did not know what was happening. Now as an adult I recall that throbbing feeling and know that he did cum inside of me. No in and out motion, no wiggling, I suppose just the sheer feeling of power that he was all the way in was all that he needed.

As he pulled out he took that green facecloth and put it in place to catch any mess. He closed up his pants, pulled down my dress and picked me up (making sure to keep the facecloth in place). Douglas took me to the bathroom and put me on the loo and rinsed the facecloth while putting some water into the bath. The warm bathwater did burn a lot, but it was a good place to be. He told me that I did okay and that he would not tell my Mother that I had cried as much as I did, and that if he had to do it again it would be a bit better next time, and that he believed in me, but that if I said something to anybody (especially my Mom) it would show that I was not handling it properly, and then everybody would be very let down, and I would have more to learn, and we would have to do it again.

Up to now I had thought that I had sat in fornt of the tv after that and blocked everything out, but I now saw that there was more to it than that. I still felt the pain the next morning, and I longed to speak to my Mom about it. I went to find her, and as I saw her I remembered how much I would be letting her down, and how upset she would be, and how much I hated the thought of doing it again, so I said nothing. I was scared and confused and conflicted inside myself and it still hurt to move. I didn't know how to handle what I was feeling, or how to handle pain without the help of my Mother, and didn't know if it was okay to tell anybody else - and so that night I blocked it out of my mind. I did live with it for one day - a horrible day that I never recalled until now.

I suppose that I will go for one or two more sessions now if I can because I feel very disturbed by the sheer cruelty shown by Douglas. I would like to understand the psychology of it all, and this is the first time that that factor has been opened up to me. I hate to think of the cold and calculating way he worked it all out and how clever he really was. He knew that to me there was no way out if I really believed what he told me (which I did). I wanted to tell, but that meant living through it all again, and also the feeling that I had not done well enough or passed my lesson. I thought that they all knew, that it was not a secret, but a test. It was an ugly game, and I think that I need to come to terms with that now.

Wish me luck and best of luck to everyone out there.

Hugs

Sharon.