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Rated: E · Non-fiction · Biographical · #2031997
I was sexually abused from ages 7 to 12, and after years of silence, this is where it ends
â¦"One summer she goes into the field as usual
stopping for a bit at the pool where she often
looks at herself, to see
if she detects any changes. She sees
the same person, the horrible mantle
of daughterliness still clinging to her.
⦠The girl who disappears from the pool
will never return. A woman will return,
looking for the girl she was."
~Louise Glück
A MYTH OF INNOCENCE


"A Place Untouched"

My brother was the force that drained every ounce of life from my body, leaving me branded on the inside. Year after year, he replaced my emptiness with his own tainted desire. Even after all this time, the hunger he created in my soul still traces its way throughout my life, never to be fully satisfied.
* * *

With one hand pressed to the top of my cowgirl hat and the other tightly gripping my old cap gun, I left the screen door behind me slamming shut and bolted across my grandparentâs field. Entering into an opening in the closest set of woods, I ran deeper and deeper and deeperâslowing only to climb over fallen branches or maneuver myself around the thickets of briars. I ran until I was engulfed by the multitude of oak trees, reaching as high, it seemed, as Heaven itself. This was where I felt safe, free, alive... This was where I knew he wouldn't find me, where I knew he couldn't touch me.
I was alone, except for God, who was always there to chip away my contemptuous mask, bit by bit, and listen to the pounding of my anxious heart. God knew my secrets, and each time a new one was added, he was there to witness it.
In those woods, it was not my clothing that fell from me, but rather, the hidden burden of my brother's domineering power and the shame and confusion of my own impurity. In those woods, upon the layers of soil and dead leaves, I claimed sanctuary, and it was then that I could lay aside my weapon and unpack my Barbies. I was made new, even if only for a short while. Even if only until the darkness of night forced me out of my world and back into his.
* * *

Since I began to face my own demons and recollect old, forgotten memories, I find myself fervently searching for that little girlâthe one I was before it all began and the one I became in order to survive. I often wonder where she went and which part of her, if any, continues to live on within me.
As I tread further along this road, in the direction of my former life, Iâm reminded each second that time can and will spare none. My safe havenâ the ground that soaked up my tears; the trees that heard as I pleaded with God and saw, on many occasions, as I fell to my kneesâno longer stands tall as it did back then. It was washed away by time and just like the woods, the years have left their mark on me as well. Iâm no longer the powerless little girl I was fourteen years agoâsheâs gone. And though I once saw her as weak, I now know better. If any of her remains, please let it be her Fight: Her belief in magic, happiness, dignity and faith. Her desire for more than what life has handed her. This, however deep and hidden, is what I hope continues within me, simply waiting for me to become brave enough to find it.


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