Trigger Warning!
When I was younger (8), we lived with my mother's husband's (at the time) cousin. My mother decided to throw a small party and had a few of my step dad's family members there. They were all drinking and carrying on and having a good night.
It was around 1 am, when everyone started to wind down and fall asleep, but also when one of his cousin's came through the living room door, and sat next to me on the floor. (They kept the doors unlocked because we were in the middle of nowhere.) I was watching my cartoons when I know I should have been asleep by now. Maybe if I had been asleep, what I'm about to tell you, wouldn't have happened.
He asked me what I was watching as he scooted closer to me, ruffling up the blankets in between us clumsily. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so I stared straight at the tv and tried not to look in his direction, but I answered his question so not as to be rude. My mother was in the next room with her door shut so she couldn't hear a thing over my cartoons, on top of her being passed out drunk. I didn't feel safe at all.
He eventually scooted so close to me that there was no room in between us. He whispered for me to stay quiet and then he lifted my shirt a little to give himself a clear passageway into my pajama pants. He traced his way from my stomach to inside my panties. I let out a gasp and reached for his hand, shaking my head and saying "no". But that wasn't enough to stop him. He pulled himself on top of me and held my hands together with one of his hands. With his other hand, he was struggling to pull his pants down. I was so afraid at this point, I started to cry as I looked at my mother's bedroom door. If I yelled what would happen? Would my mother come to help me, or would she not hear me?
I felt a sting on my face and realized he had slapped me for whimpering too loudly. He then put one of his hands over my face, I could barely breathe. I felt him pull my pajama pants off of my legs, and then my panties. I cried a little louder this time, trying to wiggle free but I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't breathe. I just lied there, crying. I kept yelling for my mother in my head. Please wake up. Please help me. I kept repeating that in my head.
He removed his hand from my face and I took a deep breath. The air in front of me was filled with his alcoholic breath. He motioned for me to be quiet. He spread my legs apart and then, this time, put one of my pillows over my head. He spit on his other hand and then rubbed it on himself, for lubrication, I assume, and then he inched his way inside of me. Now I know why he put the pillow over my head. It hurt. So bad. But again, I could only lie there and let it happen.
After he finished, he got up and lied on the couch. I stood up and went straight for my mother's bedroom door, but he grabbed my arm and said "you better not say anything". So I didn't. I went into her room and curled up into a ball on the floor, crying. I couldn't stop crying. It was dark and cold, and the house was filled with snores from different rooms. I didn't want to interrupt my mother's sleep, but I was also afraid of what he might do if I told, so I kept quiet.
I tell myself, if I were sleeping instead of watching cartoons, it wouldn't have happened. I try not to think about it but sometimes I still have those flashbacks. I was 8 years old in this picture; when he stole my innocence.. How can someone look at a child and think those thoughts?