Thread: Chaos Theory: Causing Hahvoc.

Re Chaos Theory Causing Hahvoc. A Young Life... After my initial bout with the hospital, my mother eventually returned home and we had to be careful when we hugged her for awhile. John started visiting more and more and my uncle eventually moved out to marry his evil wife. I proclaimed her evil because he was MY Uncle Neil, and she was stealing him away from me. He was my replacement father figure as I became accustomed to John showing up. Now, Daddy darling hadn't disappeared completely, but it was a headfuck in the making every time my brother and I visited him on the weekends. Mommy doesn't love you, He would say to us so we would stay with him. I knew better, but my brother...lets just say he had many anger problems growing up because of him and his girlfriend at the time, Amanda. Amanda was basically my best friend, but recently, I found out she had abused my brother mentally, which is some of the reason why he stays clear of women and has never been on a date. Freud would be pleased to delve into his mental processes on that one. My dad used to get very angry at us...and he was always in the process of drinking when he got angry. When you're little and you want the bad wolf to go away, you try to stand your ground and puff out your chest like you're bigger than you are so you'll scare him away. And when that doesn't work, you start crying and crying, trying to get him to stop yelling and saying hurtful things about mommy and how ungrateful you are and how much he really cares. I hate it when people argue. I hate yelling. And my automatic response to people yelling whether at me or around me is to attempt to calm them down before the tears start. It usually occurs among just my family members, but my flight response immediately kicks in along with the Curl up in a ball far away. They won't find you if you do. My dad was very nit-picky with what he wanted from me. He never physically or sexually abused me, but the emotional and mental trauma more than made up for it. Why are you wearing that? Dresses are for girls, not what Mommy lets you wear. If you start crying, you better have a reason or I'll give you one. I know there were other things, but my mind blocked out most of the other stuff. Basically, my father decided I should be thin, frilly, girly, and a total Daddy's Girl. I should love pink and dressing up and going to parties with his side of the family, much as they despised me. He had mapped out what he wanted me to be, and every time I did something he didn't approve of, I paid for it with 'witty' comments and hints that he didn't like me. Oh, my Dad loved me, he just basically hated what I was. I wasn't the image he wanted me to fit. I never thought my dad lied to me. I was a very naive child and didn't think he could lie, so when he said something must be wrong with me or what I was wearing, I believed it as much as it hurt me. I wanted Daddy's approval more than anything. But nothing I did was good enough. And then I started getting back at him without knowing what I was doing. The first real instance of a SHUT THE FUCK UP pwn moment was when I was eight or so and playing soccer. My dad was being a douche, like normal. Telling me to run faster, get the ball, keep them out of the zone, as was usual. Well, I had had enough. My mother told me this story and I almost regret not being able to remember it. I had been running, chasing down the ball when my father said something that just was the final straw. I stopped for probably two seconds, turned my face and gave him the meanest, most dirty look that said every kind of swear in the book and then some before going back to the game. My mother recalled that the men that were standing around her actually leaned and took a step back as if they had gotten slapped. My father had promptly shut the fuck up and went to the other end of the field so I could play my game in peace. But things...things happened that I am unsure of whether I can disclose. It's burden, a hardship. And as my friend told me, my dear friend said to me, you aren't tainted. And I still don't know if I can believe it. Like all girls my age, I was curious about my body and what I could do to it. Masturbation has always been in some part of my life, so that isn't something hard for me to talk about and I dunno when I started that, but it was probably around nine years old. But, meh, that's just how it is. But how this other part came about....I am unsure. It happened only for a few times, and due to my age of ten, I figured that it never really happened, that if I put it out of my mind and stayed quiet, it would just go away like a lot of my memories. And I guess, to make it easier, it shall be put into a different perspective. Hahvy didn't expect these things from him. He was only two years older, still a child like her. And related by blood, no less, living two houses away. But still, it didn't stop him as he pushed her onto her bed and started playing with her small, prepubescent breasts. But he did more than that and she didn't know how to stop him. The sensations through her body were scary and yet...strangely pleasing, the mixture paralyzing her from resisting. He took off her pants and used his mouth on her and she couldn't tell him no even when she knew it was wrong and he shouldn't be touching her like that. Inside, she cried as he played with her little body before stopping and leaving her to put her clothes back on. He didn't take her virgin body, but she was still tainted, impure, ruined somehow. But she pretended nothing happened because she didn't want to tell her mother what had happened, or split the family apart by saying those things. She didn't want someone talking to her about it and asking where he touched and how. She didn't want any of that. When he came to her again, he easily took her back onto her bed and did the same thing again and she almost said no, the word was on her lips, but apparently her tortured expression made him want to touch her more and accept what he was doing. She squirmed and tried to get away and only the knock of her brother's hand on the door saved what little sanity she had that day. He escaped out the window and then went back into the house through the door to hang out with her brother like nothing had happened. Hahvy knew what to do. She put on her clothes and her mask and acted like nothing had happened. But the fourthe time was the last time...she couldn't handle it again. She wanted it to stop. And she did. She kicked at his shoulders and said no, almost screamed it and he never bothered her again after all. Never looked at her or tried to get her alone. He gave her distance and became involved in school and started dating girls while Hahvy adjusted to life at school where people wore facades of care when they secretly plotted her tears... The worst was over I would say, for Hahvy. But it wasn't.