Gang rape at seven

Going to uncle Norman’s for the weekend again mommy knows what happens to us there but she doesn’t care so here we are.

Thursday night and Friday go fine. We are staying quiet and small so we won’t be noticed and so far it’s working. So on Saturday morning when he says come wih me to the garage I have a surprise for you we are pretty excited about it uncle Norman has a motorcycle shop and lets us do stuff like rebuild machines and race his bikes. So it is always bigtime fun.

We get to he garage and there are several men friends of his there, already drunk even though it’s pretty early in the day. This isn’t a good sign because uncle Norman sometimes let’s some of them watch him make us do bad, bad things and they laugh. But so far it’s okay. So maybe it will be okay.

Uncle Norman locks the door behind him. Uh oh. There’s a siren going off in our head. Right, he says. He walks over to us and rips off our shirt. We remember buttons flying everywhere. He starts touching us in bad places on our chest and the men are like cheering him on. He takes off the rest of our clothes and pushes us down you-know-what-to-do. And we do know what to do. He pushes his thing in our mouth and starts going back and forth. We can’t breathe like we’re choking but we can’t throw up again because then he will kick us and throw us against the wall again. We start kinda watching the whole thing from far away.

Uncle Norman gets mad after awhile he says we’re not doing It right and he kicks us. He tries to pick us up and hold us against the wall to put his thing you know inside us. But thT doesn’t work so well because he can’t hold us up there. He let’s us fall down into the grease and stuff that’s on the ground. We know that smell like motor oil and beer and cigarettes and the stuff that leaks out of him. And sweat it’s just gross.

Whe we fall he kicks us some more then he picks us up andcarries us over to this tool case that’s tall enough that he can push our head down on the oher side of it but our private parts are like behind us. Like leaning over except one of his men friends is pushing us down.

He puts his thing in us all of a sudden and it really hurts. It is one bad surprise. He pushes and pushes it looks like for forever. Then he stops and he puts his thing into our butt. Hard. We know that we can’t yell becAuse then he will just hurt us more so we just stay still. We don’t really understand what is going on exactly at first but it really, really hurts. That stuff leaks from him and he kicks the back of out legs and yells. His friends are laughing how about me somebody says. They are talking about us like we aren’t even there. So uncle Norman says how much and the guy says a hundred bucks and he gives Uncle Norman the money and he puts his thing in us and moves around back there for it looks like a long long time. Then he yells and stuff leaks out from him and he goes away. The men are all laughing and cheering him on all this time then another man says how much for the ass and Uncle Norman says well that’s one seventy five. The man says okay bu what if if doesn’t fit and Uncle Norman says well jus push harder. And the man gives uncle Norman the money and he pushes his thing in our buttbole and it really really hurts. The men are like counting and laughing one, two, three……we watched until he counted to about twenty then he leaked and went away.

Another man says you’re a lightweight I bet I can get to fifty and the men all make bets on how many his number will be. He still pays uncle Norman bu he says well she’s no good anymore so I will give you one twenty five Nd uncle Norman says okay and he takes the money. The man pushes hard and his thing goes in me. The men are all counting and laughing and talking about us like we aren’t there. He gets to forty three. When he goes away he kicks us in the head.

Altogether there were nine men in the garage that day and they all got to do this bad bad thing to us. When they all had had a turn they said let’s go to some bar and they left us there without any clothes. We were bleeding and nobody came back for a long time. Then Uncle Norman was back and he gave us some pants and a shirt and he took us out for ice cream. The End of That Time.

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14 Comments

  1. jo-sexualself-injury said,

    February 16, 2010 at 2:06 pm

    I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Reliving the past can be a complete nightmare.
    Be kind to yourself today.

  2. February 16, 2010 at 2:10 pm

    Not so much thanks.

  3. jo-sexualself-injury said,

    February 16, 2010 at 2:30 pm

    I forgot to add, that I admire your bravery. I know it’s not easy opening yourself up that way.
    Do you find yourself more vulnerable after a flashback or writing about the abuse?
    jo

    • February 16, 2010 at 2:35 pm

      Well today we’re nothing but livid, so not so much. The kid who wrote this is still out of it, so no there again. But in reading it later I’m sure we will be.

  4. February 16, 2010 at 2:45 pm

    sorry you had to go through that.

    We find that after writting out things in this way it makes us feel worse for a time, but then it’s almost a releif to be out of the mind… so in the long run it may help…

  5. moreheads said,

    February 16, 2010 at 2:51 pm

    You are VERY BRAVE to have written this down, even more to post it here.

    *warm quilt and hot coca*

    Ravin

    • February 16, 2010 at 3:15 pm

      How nice, blanket and cocoa. Can’t have good things right now but it’s in safekeeping.

  6. February 16, 2010 at 4:34 pm

    I am so, so sorry that you had to go through this vile experience. Can I just say that I agree with what the others have said – whether it feels like it or not, it was very brave of you to write this.

    Gentle hugs hun. xxx

    • February 16, 2010 at 4:38 pm

      Thanks. There’s nothing brave about it though. Feels pathetic, really.

      • Karita said,

        February 16, 2010 at 4:43 pm

        Not pathetic. You’re the least pathetic person I’ve ever come across.

  7. February 16, 2010 at 4:51 pm

    Well, don’t really believe you, of course, but thanks.

  8. February 21, 2010 at 2:42 pm

    I am so deeply angry that this happened to you, and offer a virtual stuffed bear, the reallllly soft kind, that maybe you can put in safekeeping for when you want it and feel like it’s okay to have it.

    My own experiences include a scenario or two like this, and there simply aren’t words enough to describe the horror, the anger, and sometimes the shame. I’ve learned over time to point the shame back at the people who did the bad things – it all belongs to THEM, not you and me.

    I would never say I know how you (any or all of you) feel; that’s ridiculous and insulting. I do what it’s like to deal with experiences and memories that are so horrifying that I hesitate even to give the basic info to my therapist, for fear of causing emotional harm. Kinda like opening your sock drawer and finding a big ugly bug! Ewwwwww!

    I applaud your strength, for you have already survived something that other people might not have. We are champions, dissociative folks, and I think it’s important to remember that. Of course, some days I (we) just don’t feel like being strong anymore, and that’s okay too. I bet sometimes you (or some of you) might feel that way. Yeah, I’m with ya…

    Sending a gentle, verrrrrry safe hug only if it’s safe for you.

  9. February 21, 2010 at 4:57 pm

    Hugs are totally fabulous, thanks. No one has ever said to us that they’ve been thru similar shite. Makes a big difference in the shame department. Which is one bad dude as Cool Hand Luke said. The toxicity as you say, when talking about it even in therapy, rough. We have to tell the stories in pieces. Sometimes it takes weeks for a whole piece to get out. Usually there are more than one splinter attached, and our internal communication is just beginning. It can be a wild ride for sure ;). Thank you for visiting and for your thoughts. Namaste.


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