All Abuse and Pain are equally as devistating to the person enduring it.
I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me. Philippians 4:13 -
** All testimonials that are posted on our site are anonymous. All Names are fictitious to protect the survivors. **
On the Run...
I was 13 when my drunken father got angry at me and told me he was going to kill me. He went to his room to get his gun, and I took off running. We lived way out in the country, so I set out running to a friends house. My father had got his gun and was chasing me in his pickup. I saw the headlights coming down the long dirt road I was on, so I hid in the woods until he passed. I ended up falling asleep in the palmetto fronds because I was exhausted. After all this was the middle of summer in the south and it was extremely hot outside. When I woke up, the sun was coming up and I ran the rest of the way to my friends house. I had no water or food all night long. I remember being so thirsty. Was the longest night of my life. He had been abusive all my life, so physical abuse I knew, but this was the first time I had feared being shot. Back then there were no cell phones to call for a ride, and you were too scared to call the police. That would just make him more angry so you stayed quiet.
~ Beth
Kitchen Duty...
The age 15 was an especially hard year for me for many reasons. Physical, sexual and verbal abuse were unfortunately common for me. But this particular year was even worse. My Grand Mother who I was very attached too, had a stroke. My Mother stayed at the hospital with her, and my father who was a truck driver at the time came home to stay with me and my best friend at our house. He was high, and when he told me to wash the dishes, I put too much soap on them and I dropped a plate. He grabbed me by one arm and beat me with a belt buckle until I had urinated all over myself and was bleeding through my cloths. I was black and blue from the back of my neck to the back of my knees. I was made to clean up behind myself. And my Mother, when showed the bruises on my body, physically turned around and put her back to me, and said, "I don't want to see that." My Mother then pack "MY" belongings and sent me to my Aunts house 6 hours away from my home and familiar surroundings. I rode the 6 hour trip laying on my stomach in the back seat of my Aunt's car, because I was unable to sit due to my injuries. At her home, I remember I laid on her living room floor and my dinner plate was put in front of me since I couldn't sit at the table. I can remember looking at the dog dish next to me and thinking that I was no better then the dog. My Mother took my Father's side always. After all he could pay her bills and I couldn't.
~ Amy
Brotherly Love...
I had one sibling growing up, a brother who was 6 years older than me. Making me the only girl child in my family. I was adored by my grand parents for that reason. But that was not the case in my home. My Father was a child molester (unknown to anyone), and taught my brother how to do likewise. Disgusting acts were committed on my from around the age of 4, but at the age of 14 I had learned to fight back. The problem is, sexually deviant people don't like to be told no. Walking home from the school bus one day, I cut through a wooded path to get to my house. My brother was there. He started making sexual advances toward me. I shoved him away, and was then raped by him. I remember I was wearing my favorite t-shirt at the time and it was torn. I burned it afterwards. I did the right thing and told, but nobody believed me.
~ Dana
Wrong Party...
I was 13 and my brother was 19 in the summer of 1982. He was having a party at this house and wanted me and my best friend to come over drive him to the liquor store since he had lost his license due to a DUI. And yes, out in the country we lived in, I drove at 13 with no license. Later that night at the party, by brother got really drunk and tried to rape me. He forced me into the room and threw me on the bed. He twisted my arm behind my back and was trying to force me to have sex with him. My friend came in and stopped it, thank God. My arm was badly bruised and broken. I told my Mother, but my brother told her I was lying, and even thought my friend had stopped it, she still didn't believe me, or just didn't want too. In those days, families kept this kind of thing secret.
~ Gina