The Horrors

She knew he was a predator; that’s how she chose him. He raped her, so she says. They sat together as she watched him speak like a child on a CB radio to his cop friend. She watched him get aroused and knew that he was ready to go after that role-play. There were signs of sexual abuse going on in that household, one of them being a peephole in the wall from his bedroom to the bathroom. She made us spend time with him regardless. She had been abused as a child and she knew exactly what she was doing.

I recall her going out when the divorce was final and we were alone. She was working, for the first time for real in her life in her late 20’s, but all of the time that she was gone wasn’t accounted for. We were three children alone that she told lies to in order to possess us, as if we were just objects. That’s what we were to her, nothing more. We were a game she played to see how we would break in front of her cold, dead eyes. Some nights she wasn’t there and I remember her saying she was going to the bar. The woman says she didn’t drink but that’s a part of her new persona; she drank.

Her goal was to find a man to occupy her time and make her feel wanted again. Who knows, maybe she was looking for someone to hurt us specifically. The thing about her was that she wanted to hurt us because she knew it would hurt our dad; that was the whole point. Once he admitted that he didn’t love her then she chose to do whatever it took to make him pay; he’s still paying for it. We were the targets for her cruel, sick game and I wish that I had had a say in whether or not I could be a part of it. I was just a pawn.

I would wake up with no one around. I would be hungry and find something for myself to eat. I’m not sure how well I did because I was, like 8. Once, I found a soda in her room and tried to drink it, but it had a cigarette in it. I can never get that taste out of my brain; I was so disgusted by that surprise. We had moved at some point. Mom wasn’t winning the house in the divorce, she was getting half of the money for the sale. We were living in a trailer on some land and some weird shit was going on over there.

One morning mom was gone and we were all looking around for her. Her bra and panties were hanging in the tree. Apparently she had taken a Harley ride with her new beau naked in the middle of the night and never came home. I don’t even know how much longer it took for her to get home. We didn’t have cell phones back then so I’m pretty sure we were in the dark.

On another night my mother was talking about how her new guy’s ex-girlfriend was a witch and that she was threatening her. Mom told us that she had put a hex on her and I had no idea what that meant. There was a crazy night where it sounded like someone was banging on the walls of the trailer; that’s all I really remember. We were terrorized. Sometimes I wonder if it was just her and him having fun fucking with us and seeing the fear take us over. I’m not quite sure really.

There were some times that stood out enough to still remember them. There was a time where I was in the truck with him and he drove me out into a gravel yard. He made me touch him. It’s a little murky but that might have been the first time he made me perform oral on him with my little adolescent mouth and still trusting eyes. Once I had to give him a blowjob on his couch. I don’t know where everyone else was. He bought me a lollipop later as a reward, as if I could stand to suck on another thing. It had to have been a cruel sort of joke to him because he had promised me candy for the deed and my little jaw was so sore.

The worst memories are the ones that still stick with me. They always come along with that nagging, gnawing, gravelly feeling that makes me want to drown myself in a vat of beer like the guy on “Beerfest”. Either that, or bury my head in someone’s chest, grab fistfuls of his shirt, and cry until I have no more tears.

I had to go to the bathroom, nothing unusual there, or so I thought. I heard his voice first saying, “I can see you” in a menacing and unrecognisably (at the time) sexual tone. Fear was my first feeling and then much more when I looked over my shoulder to identify the eye through the peephole. He told me that he was touching himself while watching me. I felt like the world was spinning, closing in on me, and everything went very blurry. The walk to that door felt like the longest walk and I tried to force myself to get to the door before I fell over. I felt like I had lost control of my motor functions and that gravity was stronger than my will to get the fuck out of there. I still have dreams where I’m trying to escape the unthinkable with that same feeling. When I wake up I want to die and I cannot function. This is what it’s like being stuck in my head.

Another time was when both of his kids were invited into the mix with my middle brother and I. He put on a porno and made his children have sex in front of all of us. What do you do when you are placed into that horror? I just sat there, frozen, unable to do anything, accounting on all of the fear. I don’t remember anything else of that night but that was what set off the speaking out.

We were in the car and she kept looking at me. I don’t think I could have counted all of the times that she asked me what was wrong. She knew. I told her and she slammed the brakes and flipped a bitch. We were ushered into the police station and I kept thinking that one of the cops was one of his friends. We had to explain, in detail, all of the atrocities that were done to us. I later tried to say that he raped me and made up a story. I was trying to gain attention to another situation, that I had already been penetrated several times, by many others, and I wasn’t ready to tell everyone yet. I’m not sure I’m even ready to tell the world yet either.

That’s enough for now.

Author: jessicaambateman

I am a survivor of childhood abuse on the verge of speaking out. I have waited my whole life to have the luxury of spilling my guts and blogging is going to become part of that journey.

2 thoughts on “The Horrors”

  1. Hi Jess…you survived.
    That’s something. So what I wanted to say is: You are not those horrible things. You are not your past. You are Jessica. That wasn’t your mother. A mother doesn’t act that way. They were pathetic monsters. You know…I have had bad luck in the past…not as much as you…but even though you think you might be scarred for life…you are very intelligent. I don’t ‘know’ you but I can feel your soul. It is beautiful. I want to hug it and show you how you can smile. You are being loved now. Even if you think you’re alone; you’re not. Look up at the sky…it is there for you too.
    Hope those horrible people will get what they deserve:You being happy…looking at them and feeling sorry for how pathetic they really are. Love from Bruges xxxx


    1. I would love to some day meet you so that we can share that hug. Thank you so much for your support. I do agree, that person was never my mother. She pretended to be one at times only to get what she wanted, which was more pain. It was very confusing and I had to mourn the loss of a mother that I never had. I appreciate the feedback and the comments very much.


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