Note to reader:
Note: On reading this back I wanted to delete some parts of this memory, but then I realized that this is not something I should be ashamed of. Child molestation shouldn't be a disgusting secret kept hidden in the hearts of it's victims. The idea that this is so horrible it shouldn't be talked about is the reason so many kids don't speak out about it. So even though it's makes me very uncomfortable, I'm leaving the details there for you to read.
I have no witty words for you, or appropriate pictures to include in this chapter. All I have are these ugly words and memories, some so ugly I've had to black them out.
Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth" makes me sick to my stomach every time I hear it. I use to sing karaoke to that song back when I was in first grade for a man named Frank. Frank was a fat white man, with red chubby cheeks and bad body odor. His shirts were always wet with perspiration and his face shinny and greasy. He was a heavy breather. He was friends with my mother.... he had a karaoke machine.... and a water bed.
This is a hard for me to write about.
I can't remember where my mother was the first time it happened. I was alone with him and he was letting me play with his karaoke machine. I knew all the words to "For What It's Worth", so I sang that for him over and over. He told me to pretend I was a real singer and dance while I performed. I danced. He asked me to come and sit next to him. He picked me up and put me on his lap. Then he molested me. I squirmed under his grip and tried to roll away from him. He used his other arm to wrap around my waist and hold me there. He was breathing heavy and his sweat was soaking through his shirt and I could feel it wet behind my back. I knew this was bad. I knew he was a bad bad man. I felt helpless and terrified. I was praying to God....the Holy Spirit, even the Spirits in my father's stories, and to anyone... for anyone.. to come so it would end.
I don't remember how long it went on for, but I remember afterwards I felt like I had done something "bad". I felt ashamed. I didn't tell anyone. I felt like this horrible thing had happened to me... and now it made me ... bad. I felt like some how his disgusting sweat had rubbed off on me and I couldn't wash it off. I was disgusting now too. I couldn't let anyone know.
Every time we went over Frank's house after that I did everything in my power not to be left alone with him. He tried to get me to sing on his karaoke machine and I just shook my head like I was embarrassed. My mom teased me and told me things like.. "You are not embarrassed! Stop acting like a baby! You always sing at home." I never sang over there again. I could feel his eyes watching me. His fat fingers were always finding their way to my skin. He would put his hand up the back of my shirt when my mother made me hug him hello, rest his hand on my leg if I were forced to sit next to him, and caress my arm if I walked by him.
One night they were planning on having a BBQ. My mother got there early to help do the cooking. It was just me, my mom and Frank. I suddenly developed an interest in learning how to BBQ. My mother realized as we were setting up that she didn't have enough meat and decided to run across the street to the grocery store. She wanted me to stay with Frank while she went. I shook my head at her in horror and started to whine, "Please mom, let me go?... Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Inside my head my pleads were much more desperate. Please NO, don't leave me here, don't leave me here with him, nooo nooo nooo nooo nooo." I started to cry. She rolled her eyes and told me to stop. "Why are you being such a baby?" ..... Because I'm only 7....
When she left I stood there staring at the closed door for a few seconds with my back to Frank, afraid to turn around. I was so terrified I couldn't breath, goosebumps spread all over my arms and my heart started to beat too fast. He called me to him. He made me stand between his legs and grabbed my hand and it put it down his pants. It was disgustingly hot and damp. I pulled out my hand immediately. He put it back. I pulled it out again and he put it back... again and again and more forcibly every time. Then he picked me up in frustration, sat me next to him and started to touch me. His breath came out in a struggle and his sweat dripped off his head onto the skin on my thighs. He took his hand out of my panties and rubbed it all over his sweaty face and and then shoved his fingers in my mouth.
I wish I could forgive this man. As a Christian I know I should forgive him. But I cannot.
There are kids out there that are living with a disgusting secret. A secret they think makes them "bad". Please, please listen to your children...... and please find out why they are crying ............... before you call them a "baby."