My family had, once again, been evicted from our home and forced to move somewhere else. The problem was that neither of my parents were physically able to work. My mother was sick with Lupus and Fibromyalgia. My father was going in to heart failure because of genetic heart disease and also suffering from degenerative spine disease. This forced us to move to a house not too far away owned by a family friend. It wasn't up to code, but it was a roof over our heads. Behind the house were some woods that were split by a barbed wire fence. On both sides of the house and across the street were fields. In the back yard we had several black walnut trees and one little dogwood. Right by the dogwood was an old cinder block shed. It was where we kept out bikes, decorations, and other out door things including some of my dads old tools.
One day, my brother Jonathan had his friend, John, over at the house. We were all hanging out and eating dinner. Everyone seemed to always get along. Everything was fine and everyone was laughing having a good time. After we ate, John and my brother decided to go outside. I told them about an old truck I found in the woods behind our house and they wanted to see it. As we were walking down they both stayed behind me. I could hear them whispering but I just figured they were talking about what ever 16 or 17 year old boys talk about. Being a 12 year old girl, I had no idea what that was. Finally, we reached the truck. It was an old rusted ford. Ironically, it was flipped over on its side. (insert ford jokes here)
We hung around for a bit. I was looking in the truck when I saw John starring at me. The next thing I know, they are chasing me. They both chased me from the woods all the to the shed in the back yard. I was trying to hide. I don't exactly remember what was said or done that made me run. I vaguely remember being forced to the ground while in the woods. I hid in the shed, but they saw me go in there. John came straight in looking at me with that ugly brace face grin of his. My brother stood by the door way also smiling. John put me on the ground and tried to get my pants off. I remember looking at my brother for help wondering why he wasn't stopping John. He just stood there and watched. I knew that if I was going to get out of that situation it was going to have to be because I fought my way out. For a 12 year old fighting a 17 year old, that seemed nearly impossible. I struggled to get free, but that disgusting piece of shit managed to hold on. I grabbed a tool and bashed his bitch face with it. I ran and surprisingly shoved my douche bag "brother" out of the way. I ran around the house as quick as I could. I was afraid they would try to corner me in by splitting up and coming at me from both sides of the house. Luckily, they didn't. They let me go. I ran inside and sat on the couch. My mom asked me what happened, but I didn't say a word. My mother was a very wise woman and she picked up that something was horribly wrong. She called my best friend, Claudia, and asked her to come over. I talked with Claudia and told her everything. She convinced me to tell my mother who then went ape and told my father. He was furious. My father confronted that disgusting piece of trash and my "brother." Both swear up and down that they never touched me. John wasn't allowed over for a long time after that.
After my mom died later that year and my dad finally got his disability approved, we moved to a much nicer home in a much nicer area. My relationship with my brother had started to mend. There were occasions where we had fights and would often pull switch blades or throw fist. It really wasn't uncommon. I'd still call him a "piece of shit rapist." I would also leave the same comment to John when he commented about how much he missed my mom on my brother's fb pictures. That would always start more fights. I wasn't the only one who had this issue with him. He had tried the same thing with several girls at my middle school and his high school. He even tried to get my sister in a room alone with him one time. I forcefully kept that from happening. He has at least 4 children with 4 different girls of various ages yet only claims 1. I feel bad for that child having to grow up with a piece of trash for a father. It wouldn't surprise me if piece of shit did that to his own daughter. Well, one day many years down the road John was allowed to come in the house for a few minutes while my brother packed a bag for a weekend rodeo trip. I, now 18, was in the kitchen washing dishes. John, 23ish, walked in behind me. He said something to me along the lines of "Hey liar." He walked closer to me and started poking and grabbing at my breast. "Stop it." I warned him. He then said, "What? Are you gonna cry to your daddy about it again? You think you're better than me because you're a Christian? What?" I took a deep breath and grabbed a knife. I pointed it at him saying, "Get the fuck out or I swear to God, I WILL kill you." My brother came down just after I said that. Piece of Trash smirked at me and walked away. I later told my dad, "Keep him away from me. If he is EVER near me again, I WILL KILL HIM!" My dad understood and, to this day, John has stayed away.
I don't play about rape. EVER. People tell me I really should forgive him. From a Christian stand point, I probably should. From a realistic stand point, he is a piece of shit and always will be. There is no forgiving him. He will NEVER be anything worth my time or even a second thought. I've had people tell me that that is exactly why I should forgive him so that I can move on. Excuse me, but I enjoy hating some people. Especially when I know how low they are capable of sinking. When it comes to this matter, my brain tells me that I am not worth much either and that I should pray. I know I should, but I struggle to.
Love, a schizophrenic.
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