"Children are supposed to be loved and protected..."

My father was a molester. My very earliest memory is of being raped. I was probably only two years old. When I was 5 he put a gun to my head and said that if I ever told anyone he would kill my grandparents and make me watch. He knew that they were my favorite people in the whole world, so that's why he said that. He knew it would keep my mouth shut.

When I was ten years old my periods started. I was terrified that I would wind up pregnant. I remember there being a news story about a 10 year old having a baby after being raped. It was really big news at the time, so I was scared out of my mind.

I had made a really good friend at school. We moved a lot, so I never really had friends before, but this girl was different. Sarah was so kind and warm and genuine. I was actually allowed to go to a sleepover at her house. I had never been allowed to do that before. Life in her house was so different than anything I had ever known. When they took me home her dad seemed agitated and nervous. I thought he didn't like me and couldn't wait to get rid of me. It turns out he had a bad feeling and didn't want to let me out of their car. He told Sarah that he felt like something bad was going to happen to me. Of course I didn't know that until this Spring, twenty years after the fact.

I finally worked up the courage to tell Sarah my big secret. She convinced me to tell our teacher. So we got excused from gym class to go talk to the teacher. She stood right there holding my hand for support. Then all Hell broke loose. They made me tell the story to the principal and a social worker and a police officer. THEN they sent me home on the school bus! They had called me mom to prepare her and called my dad at work to tell him to bring us to the police station.

My mom immediately started blaming me. It was all my fault. She told the cops and social worker that I asked for it. I pranced around in little nighties and panties. Well, she was the one who bought my clothes, I wore what she gave me. They whisked me away to a foster home that night. I was there for six months until he was in prison.

After that it took years to trust my mother again. I still don't completely trust her. She only talks to me when she wants something. She always babied my brother, but treated me like dirt. It used to hurt a lot, but I'm over it now.

My grandma, the one he threatened to kill, is his mother. We were always close, the only time I was safe was when I was at her house. She and my Pappy were wonderful. Pappy passed away when I was 15. Grandma is still alive and kicking though. Somehow she has convinced herself that it was all just a "misunderstanding." She keeps trying to get me to visit her when he's there. She's even lied about his being there. Now that I have a daughter she tries even harder. I sent her pictures of the baby and specifically told her not to give him any. She sent them all to him and then asked me for more. I was very upset about that. I'm sure it's because she doesn't want to believe that she raised a monster. But this is my child and he will NEVER see her.

I don't regret this choice at all. Children are supposed to be loved and protected, not abused.