Recovering from an abusive childhood is very similar to an archaeological dig.  Bit by bit and inch-by-inch pieces of history are uncovered.  Then you have to worry about the fragility of what you have uncovered.  In starting this blog, there were three things I (and partially still am) worried about.

1.)  Will or can Jack A. ever find me via the stories I’ve published?

2.)  How much is too much to share?

3.)  What will people think of me?

I know that the percentage of likelihood that Jack A. could find me is in the negative digits; as for the other two, there is minimal concern.  Everyone that has sent me responses with words of encouragement and support has been so nice.  I’m not so worried about the last two anymore.

The second story that I publicized on my blog is titled “My Journal and Step-Father.”  In that post, I discussed the one and ONLY time that I had ever knowingly stepped out of line.  There are two specific pieces that I left out of that story.

First Topic:

After I crawled to my room to find my first aid kit and my journals, I was accosted a second time.  Jack A. told me to get cleaned up and that we had to go and do something.  I was scared.  Scared beyond the normal ‘I’m going to get hit’ fear.  I thought that he was going to make good on his many promises that he would kill me.  I was told to get in the car, which I did and the destination was the drug store.  He told me to sit in the car and that he would be out in a minute.  Fifteen minutes after we pulled in Jack A. got back in the car and we drove home.

When we walked in the door, I was told to go to the bathroom.  Jack A. followed me with a bag of items that he purchased at the drug store.  He lines the items up on the bathroom counter.  There were four things in total.  Vaginal cleansing items and spermicides and pregnancy preventives were the purchased items.  While standing over me… he forced me to use each and every one of them.  What I mean by this is that he made me drop my pants, he read the instructions for each item out loud, and then he forced me to use them in the ways that I was instructed.

I can’t even begin to explain the humiliation that this caused.  The abuse went to a whole new level.  I felt like any ounce of dignity I had left had just been stolen.   I really thought that was the worst that it could get.  I was wrong.  After I had done everything that I was told to do, Jack A. told me to go and sit in the living room.  It was close to 9PM at this point.

Second Topic:

Jack A. walked into the living room.  Sat down in his chair and turned on the TV and the VCR.  I didn’t have any idea what to expect but what happened wasn’t close to what I could have imagined.  Jack A. turns to me and says:

“Since you want to have sex, I’m going to show you what it’s all about.”

As the first scene comes on the TV… it plays through these ads for places like 1-800-TalkSex.  Jack A. forced me to watch a porn.  From start to finish of the tape, I was made to watch every minute and every scene with him in his chair.  The smile was on his face and he made sure I knew he was aroused.  He didn’t have to touch me for me to feel violated.  The next morning, I was taken to his cousin’s house.

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