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I was half a bus away from him. He sat at the front, I at the back. I felt like puking. He didn’t even look that much like Him, just certain features, his height. He wore the same sort of tweed stuff that all people that age wear. He had the same kind of walking cane...one of those thick ones made from one piece of wood
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What hurts worse than anything is the silence. You're afraid to tell because people won't believe you and you're afraid of what they will think about you...but yelling at them does no good either...when I finally confronted my perpetrator years later, he just gave me a blank stare and said, "I never did anything like that to you."
Right. That's why I have nightmares, fear men with slicked back black hair, and I'm a lesbian. Dream on, MoFo.
And when it's family...worse, so much worse. Adults in your family are supposed to protect you, not hurt you in the worst way possible.
Sorry. I get overwhelmed and passionate sometimes about this. It fucked my life up permanently and made it hard to even relax during sex if I wasn't in complete control...and that's hard to explain to anyone, especially someone that loves you and has never been through that kind of horror. Thankfully, Sandy and I understand one another (because we've both been through it) so Safe Words are an important part of our life.
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*tight squeeze*
yes, i know they get it worse than just ass beatings. especially by the guys who are lifers.
my nephew was killed by his mothers boyfriend, he wouldnt stop crying so the asshole beat him to death.
now he gets beat on, and done whatever with daily by the guys up there. and he gets it even worse, because my brother is in the same prison system with him and knows a lot of people that would do anything for him.
i dont understand how people can just....destroy life like that.
anyway. *hugs again*
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