Molestation and Abuse Cont.

The way the room was set up, our beds were right across from each other. It started with him reaching across and running his hands over my body, again i would pretend to be asleep. I started to hate my self because I believed that I was doing wrong and that was why this was happening to me. I started to hate my looks, my hair the way my body was because I thought as a result of me being pretty, this is what was happening I would pray to be ugly all the time. One night I was awoken out of my sleep to find Sean with his hand in my panties, while jerking off. I was so shocked, I jumped out the bed and ran to the door determined to tell my aunt because I just couldn't take it any more, as I reached for the door, he grabbed me and told me don't be stupid, who do you really think the would believe?? me or you?? the one who they dumped back down here because they didn't want you any more, today i would have shrugged him off and told my aunt, but back then I was scared from the fact that I thought it was happening because of me and also because of the fact that I really thought that my parents didn't want me any more. Again I said nothing, I started sleeping as far away from him as I could, with the sheets wrapped around me tightly so that if he tired anything I would feel it, I still sleep like that to this day. Another cousin of mine Dickey would visit from time to time and he was the worst of them all. He was at least 30 ish married with kids. He would sleep in Sandy's room when he came and he would pull me in there , drop his pants and tell me to stroke him. If I refused to do it he would pull me on top of  him, force me to sit there while he gyrated his hips under me until he came. Again as with the other two, I learned how to avoid him when he came around. The last and final incident I had with Sean happened when I fell outside and got a nasty cut on my leg. He insisted on putting dressing on the cut because he said it would get infected if he didn't. As he was dressing my cut he flung my dress up looked at me and asked " are you wearing a pad?? how dat pussy so fat???"  I snatched my leg from his grasp and ran out, he moved a few months later and I was able to breathe a little easier. Some of you must be saying how on earth did I go through all this, or maybe is this even real, Rest assured when I started writing this blog, I made a promise to recount everything in full, completely honest , no matter what the cost would be if the people who knew me the best, who I would eventually mention in this blog would get upset. I believe GOD gave me strength as my greatest  weapon, I have always known even as a child, how to bear things, store them away and not let them break me. This strength will be tested to its fullest when my fiance passed away, but I am getting ahead of my self, that is much later.The indecent behavior didn't not end at my cousins, there was the neighbor who lived next door, who would try to lure me with candy, or try to feel me up when my aunts back was turned, the guys who would hang out with Sandy, but I truly believe that the abuse from my cousins scarred me the worst. I had a deep seated hate for men, at times I still feel that rage shimmering inside me. To this day, I am still very self conscious of my self, and sex sometimes bring back flash backs. I would layer my clothes when I stared growing breasts and filling out my shape in fear that it would attract even more abuse. I hated my self,  and blamed myself for everything I would say maybe if I was ugly, maybe if i was truly family this wouldn't happen to me.... It forced me to grow up way too early... to know sexuality at a time when I should have been enjoying my child hood. It made me feel dirty and unclean, like I wanted to take my skin off and wash it wash it all off me.  But I couldn't do that of course, so I did the next best thing... I buried it deep inside, smiled and made my aunt and parents believe that I was happy, I couldn't, didn't want to be called ungrateful.

Molestation and Abuse

Through out this blog, I have made several comments on my looks. It is not because I am a conceited individual, it is because I had to get you to see what my looks brought upon me. As I said before I did not know how to start talking about this chapter in my life, so I decided that the best thing to do was to just jump right into it. Here it goes. I cant exactly remember when the sexual abuse started between me and my male cousins. I have tried to think back and the first memory I have is of my cousin Sandy making fun of me saying i didn't have any hair down there and that something must be wrong with me, and how I was just a little girl. One day I was talking a shower, and Sandy came in and took my clothes, Her and my other cousin Ryan who was also older than me ripped the shower curtain open and stood staring at my body, making fun of the fact that I had no breasts and how boyish my body was, although Ryan was laughing and pointing, I saw something else in his eyes, something that told me this would not be the end of it. At the time, Sandy and I shared a bed because my other Cousin Sean  occupied the front room and even though that room had two beds and was next to my aunts, at the time I felt safer sleeping with Sandy. I soon learned how ever that Sandy and Ryan would mess around, I guess they were into that stage in life when they were exploring their sexuality. Ryan would come into the bed every night and he and Sandy would fool around, and i would turn my back to them. my aunt GOD bless her soul had no idea that this was going on. For a time Ryan ignored me and I was thankful for that. It didn't last long though. Soon he would turn to me in the bed and press his hard on into my buttocks, I would close my eyes and pretend to be asleep when this happened. But then he got bolder and bolder, he would reach his hand under my shirt and play with my chest while stroking himself, eventually it lead to him going inside my panties. Sandy got very jealous because he was not giving her the attention that she used to get so she told people at my school that I was sleeping with Ryan. He denied it, as did I in fear of what people would thing of me.  Things progressed to where he wanted to actually sleep with me, I begged him not to and told him he could put it between my legs instead because I was afraid... I didn't know what sex was. This continued for the majority of my stay in Jamaica, you may be wondering why I never told my aunt or my parents?? Ryan told me they would never believe you, Im blood and your adopted, they would just kick you out the family. So I kept my mouth shut. Sandy and I got into a huge fight one day and my aunt decided to separate us. I was now to share the big room with my cousin Sean. I thought this would be better for me, I mean Ryan would not be able to come into this room and start anything right?? WRONG. Slight leap into the future right here, I have a daughter who is three, her father passed away in 2010, and quite honestly I do not think I will ever be able to trust a guy around her not after what I have been through. Any guy who keeps harping about how pretty she is, or they want to spend time with my daughter is immediately on my shit list, because every man that has commented as to how pretty I was as a child has in some way, shape or form tried to defile my body. Anyway, back into the past I go. a few weeks into sharing the room with Sean..... he started to molest me as well.

Back To JA

This part of my life will be very difficult for me to write mainly because of what happened to me. in the year 1998 i went back to Jamaica with my parents. I thought it was a normal family vacation, i did not know that my family planned to leave me behind when the trip came to an end. The trip lasted for three weeks, everything was carried out like a normal vacation, we went to the beach, visited family we haven't seen in years etc, etc. at the end of week three i went to the local , market with my aunt, this was the diversion that my parents came up with, so that by the time i came back home, they would have been gone, however i guess my aunt miscalculated when they were leaving and we came home just in time to see my parents putting the last bags in the car. i ran up to them and asked them where they were going and where was my bags, it was then that they told me i would be staying with my aunt for a while because they just could not handle me any more. they hopped in the car and drove off, and so started two and a half of the most hellish years of my life. Now where my aunt lived was straight country, Clarks Town Jamaica. im talking pigs, cows, people planting their own crops, killing their own food. i REALLY looked out of place. a good friend of mine described what it was like for him when he first say me. he said i was " pretty like new money". from day one i stood out, one because everyone knew that i was from America, and two, because i was high yellow, with" coolie" hair. at first i was sad that my parents left me like that, but you know how a child is, easy to rebound and move on. my aunt enrolled me into the local elementary school, and i eased into country life. gone was the washing machine and vacuum cleaners. i had to was my clothes by hand with a scrubbing board and my aunt was the type that if it wasn't washed right, she would rip it from the line, drag it through the dirt and make me wash it again. living with my aunt at the time was my cousin Sandy not blood related. she hated me right off the bat. she thought i was too privileged and hated when people would tell my aunt how pretty i was. she left all the cleaning up to me so once again i was doing all the cleaning in the house. the one thing i hated was cleaning the floors, for those true Jamaicans you will know what i am talking about, i had to use a coconut husk, get down on my knees and shine the floors manually, that was not very pleasant. every Saturday morning i had to go to market, it was a literal market where they sold food, clothes, anything you could think of. my aunt ran a food store out of her house and i often ran the store with her along with Sandy. my aunts was married but her husband was very sick and he passed away a year after i came back to live with them. at school, i had no problem fitting in the work was easy and i was at times way ahead of the students in my class, yes i became the teachers pet once more. my aunt didn't put any stock into school, she never made past elementary school, so i had to be sort of a parent to my self when it came to getting ready for school, doing my homework and passing my tests. i had no one to help me, even though Sandy was older than me, she was no where near my intellectual level and at times i had to help her with her work. life in the country was hard but at the same time some parts of it was good. to be able to breathe the fresh air, lay down outside under a tree and watch the clouds roll by, listening to the rain pouring outside while eating a big bowl of home made chicken foot soup, yes there was some good times, but i must say the bad things definatly out shadowed them. i gave you the background because i wanted you to see how different my life had suddenly become. i ummm... really don't know how to start talking about the bad part honestly... its been locked away for quite sometime. so please be patient.

Count down to JA

Now i know you are wondering how exactly did hell break loose? well let me tell you. one day at school i got into an argument with a girl over some shoes that i was wearing. i made it through the day, patiently waiting for the 3 o clock bell. i rushed outside, grabbed the girl by her hair and started beating the crap out of her, this is the one and only fight that i would get into during my whole school career. teachers eventually came out and pulled us apart, the girl, Ashley( that was her name) was bleeding from a blow on her head that i gave her with my shoe.  because it was after school and off school grounds, there was nothing that the school could really do, but my teacher took it upon her self to call my dad and told him what i had down. i took my time walking home from school that day because i know what i was in store for. when i finally reached home my father looked at me shook his head and told me that my mother would deal with me when she got home. my dad then proceeded to give me a twenty dollar bill to go to the Golden Crust bakery on Church Ave and buy some bread. All the way to the store " you mother will deal with you when she gets home" kept echoing in my head. as i passed the train station, something with in me broke and i decided that i was tired of the beatings, so i hopped on a train, with no idea where i was going.  i rode the train all the way to the last stop, till this day i have no clue as to where i was. i walked around for hours until i found a McDonald where i ordered a burger and a shake and took a corner table way in the back of the store. i stayed in the McDonald until it started to close then i was back on the streets. i walked and walked until i was tired and took a seat on the sidewalk.  eventually people started looking at me because i was well dressed, which met that i wasn't homeless so i must have been lost. after a while the cops came and asked me if i was lost, i immediately  started crying and admitted that i was in fact lost. however i did not tell them that i had ran away from home, for i was in such fear as to the kind of beating i would get if i should go home. instead i told them that i was kidnapped, i wove a fantastic tale which ended with me being dropped off on the street side. the cops took me to a children"s hospital where i would stay for about three weeks( it was the best three weeks of my life at that time) . while i was at the hospital, my parents were contacted and they were investigated because of course the cops knew i ran away and they wanted to know what would have made me want to run away from home. i was released from the hospital back to my parents but i didn't know that a deal was made between them and child protective services. the deal was either send her back to Jamaica or if another incident happened, then they would have to come in and take me away. my parents chose to send me back to Jamaica...and that decision would forever scar me.

New Start Continued

Through out this tale i might regress a few times as bits and pieces of things long buried jumps back to my current awareness, so just bare with me. Now after that beating i suffered because of my brother, feelings of resentment started to grow and as each day passed i started looking at Winston less as a brother, but more as the reason why my life wasn't the fairy tale i thought it was going to be. It almost became a need to get attention from my parents, i started stealing money from the little by little nothing major just enough to pig out at the corner store.... however it would progress to me stealing valuable pieces of my mothers jewelry , and stealing stuff from the very same corner store in which i would squander my parents hard earned money. Of course as you can guess i didn't get the type of attention i wanted, i would get severely beaten each time i committed an offense ( though i admit these were all my doing). the beatings were so bad that when i went to school, i could not sit down with out grimacing in pain, it didnt take long for my teachers to notice. one day as i was in the bathroom, my teacher came in and asked me to raise my shirt, i complied and she say the huge black and bluse marks all over my back from a very recent beating. she asked me what had happened and i told her i was bad and my parents punished me for it. later that night as we were sitting down to eat, child protective services came and spent over an hour talking to my parents. of course when they left i got another beating for calling down people on our household, and they told me how ungrateful i was, and that they wished they had never adopted me if they knew i was gonna be so much trouble... now please note here, this is not something that you want to tell a child who already feels as thought they are being a burden more than everything else. after this incident i calmed down and things went smoothly for a while. i got to know my neighborhood and everyone soon knew the pretty little light skinned girl that lived on linden. at around eight, i began what you can call the litany of chores in my house. i was in charge of doing the grocery shopping, which sometimes didn't go too well. picture me around seven, eight struggling with bags of food. In every store on my block there would be an old perverted man leering at me as i shopped. in the corner Korean store there was this one guy especially that would corner me every time i came in and tried to kiss me, i would go home and tell my mother and she in turn would just brush it off because sometimes they would give me a discount on food., and then there was Juinor the guy who owned  the supermarket on Nostrand and Rogers, he was infatuated with me since i was seven and would always want to hug me and would always tell my mother i would be his future wife, my mom would laugh but i didn't find anything funny about the whole situation. anyway i learned to  avoid being alone with any of these guys and after a while it became normal for me to come in and feel them undressing me with their eyes, me.... not even old enough to hit puberty. at home i was in charge of cleaning the bathroom, dusting and vacuuming every Saturday morning and i had to sweep the house every night before i went to sleep. if for some reason i didn't  wash something clean enough they would wait until i went to sleep then they would wake me up to go and wash it all over again.... now did my brother have any chores or responsibilities??? of course not. i grudgingly accepted that this was my fate and resigned to living as such. things carried on this way for quit a while, i hated home life but excelled at school, by twelve  i had over fifty plus certificates ranging from student of the month, most improved etc. i was chosen to read a speech at the renaming of my public school, it used to be PS 181 but was renamed John Steptoe Elementary School, my picture was in the paper, lil ole me on the stage two pigtails, doing what i do best reading. that is one of about four or five times that my parents would ever tell me that they were proud of me.... then all hell broke loose....

New Start

Well, lets see.. the year was 1993 and i stepped off a plane to face a whole new world. there standing waiting for me was my new mom, my new dad and my new baby brother Winston. i cant say that i was scared, i was filled with joy, joy to be away from the horrible people who had hurt me so much. from the very start my mother was fascinated by the pretty little light skinned girl with long indian hair that she could now call her own. she kept me groomed very well, i always wore dresses, with sandals to match, and matching barrettes. i guess you can say i was a show piece. soon after i settled down into my new life, my mother discovered that i could not read, not of no fault of mine, you see back home, no one took any stock into whether or not i was learning in school. i remember this phrase my mother said very well : you cant have such a pretty face and not have and book learning. there began the long grueling process of teaching me how to read. now back in the, my mother did not know about tutors, she did it her way and believe me her way was the HARD way.  every morning before my mother went to work she would give me twenty words to learn before she came home. i would spend all day studying because i knew what would happen if i miss spelled, or got stuck on a word. for every word i missed i would get a lash across my back from a very thick belt that she had just for me, sometimes she would tell me to hold out my hand and she would hit me until my hands were red and swollen, and then there were the times when she got so fed up that i would get an all out beating, welts and bruises all over my body. it was the same case when i would read or i should say attempt to read a book with her... sometimes i was already anticipating the lashes and that would make me stutter and stumble over the words. this carried on for many months until somehow, i started to make progress with my reading and spelling, up until this day i honestly believe that the reason why i learned to read so well and fluently was because i wanted the beatings to end. BUT let me make this very clear, if it wasn't for my mother teaching me to read, yes it was harsh, i would not be here today writing this blog and for that i will be forever grateful to her. i remember the very first book i read, it was entitled "The Little Princess" and after that book, i fell in love with reading, for majority of my life after that i was always buried in a book, it was my way of escaping the life i was given. i started school and was immediately classified as one of the smartest of my grade, i was always entering reading contests where i represented my school and i never placed lower that third, i was the ultimate teachers pet, but while every thing was rosy in school, it was another story at home. My brother Winston was getting all the attention and i guess that made me mad and i started to resent him. some how i would always get blamed for what he did even if my parents knew that he was wrong. on day i believe he was around six or seven, my brother took a picture of my father in his younger days out of its frame and ripped it to shreds right beside my father as he sat watching tv. as you can guess i somehow got the blame, my father said that i purposely sat and watched him rip his picture up. for that whole day, everytime my father walked pass the empty picture frame he grabbed his belt and whipped me, that was the first and last time that my father ever beat me and it was one of the worse beatings of my life, then when my mother came home she beat me to, in the shower and sent me to bed, at that moment in time i swore i hated my brother....

The Start

On Oct 12, 1987 a woman who i will never really know gave birth to me in a tiny room in Jamaica. although it is said that our memory is not very strong when we are younger.... i sometimes still have flashes of her face. my mother was not able to care for me as she was addicted to drugs, so i was adopted by my mothers best friend. the single most strongest memory i have of my mother is this: i was about five sitting on my new adoptive family's porch when my mother comes flying up to the house yelling through the screen that she had made a terrible mistake and she wanted her baby back... i was then ushered into the house and that was the last and final time i say or heard from my mother. my new adoptive parents lived in the US, so i had to stay with relatives in Jamaica until the adoptive process was final. the lady that i stayed with hated me...the food that my parents would have shipped down to me, i never got she would give it all to her son and would force me to eat pig skins and tripe. yes i remember her well miss. loveless how ironic is her name???? it was also in that household where the sexual abuse would begin. again at this time i was around six and every night her husband would visit my bed.. and well im sure you know the rest. finally the adoption process went through and i came to the United States Of America in the year 1993, new parents, new world and most shocking of all a new baby brother....