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Damaged, But Never Broken


Edah Cherub


To the two people I've only ever been in love with:

To my son and my daughter: I've never loved anyone in my life as much as I love you. I don't just love you to the moon and back. I love you all the way around the universe! I feel so blessed to have given birth to the two most amazing kids. I've loved every second watching you grow up. My life would never be complete without you.

To my long time friend, Amy: Thank you so much for your devoted friendship and for always being supportive. Thank for always being there for me when I need someone to talk to and a shoulder to cry on. Thank you for being in my life. I believe God puts people in our lives for a reason and I thank God for having you in my life. You are truly my friend forever.

To my very best friend in all of California, Billy, of whom I miss very, very much:

You taught me, “You don't have to, you get to!” I keep this phrase in the back of my mind a lot, especially when I feel like complaining about something trivial. I miss going for walks on the beach with you and watching the dolphins jumping around in the ocean. Every time I hear the song, “Once in a lifetime” by the Talking Heads, I think of you. I'll never forget you! I hope that one day, I'll get to see you again.

I saw this quoted by someone and liked it:

“The problem with falling in love with angels is that they always fly away.”

And, most importantly, I dedicate this book, and my life, to God. For without Him, I would not be here or be the person who I am today. I love you, God! Thank you for always listening and answering my prayers and for always taking care of me. I am never alone because you are always with me.

Hebrews 13:5: “...God has said, “Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.”


This is the true story of my life. I really hope to inspire you by the events that occurred in my life growing up in Wisconsin and how everything that has happened molded me into the strong person I am today. I really hope to inspire anyone who has gone through similar situations as you are not alone.

I've been a single mother for about 20 years. I am so very proud of myself for being able to raise two kids on my own with no help from family or friends, or anyone. I never got a chance to really find out what I like to do, as I fully dedicated my life to raising my kids. Now that they are older and have moved out, I have recently made a bucket list of things I had never experienced before or that I've never tried before, and so far, I've gotten to cross a lot off my list and have been enjoying and discovering life for the very first time.

I don't drink alcohol and have never done drugs in my life, never even had a prescription for anything before either. When I did taste an alcoholic beverage, it felt like I was growing hair on my tongue. I really never understood the point. I've never thought of myself as a typical girl. I don't wear makeup or jewelry often, hardly at all. I've never carried a purse, and still don't carry one. I really don't like girly stuff all that much, in fact, some of it kind of irritates me and makes me feel weird, like I'm not myself. I don't like wearing dresses often, or getting my nails done. I've never had my heart set on finding “the one.”

Although, it's not often, I do like to go to sporting events and concerts. So, of course, I love the Green Bay Packers! Watching movies is my temporary little escape from reality. I love watching movies! Scary movies, fairy tales, sports movies, Christian movies, and superhero movies are my favorite. I love thunderstorms and listening to the big claps of thunder and the pounding of the raindrops when there is a big storm. I have never read a book from cover to cover in my life, except the Bible. Although, I do think I have quite an extensive vocabulary.

When I was about 2 years old, my mom and dad divorced. I lived with my mom and my brothers, Philip and Paul. Phil is the oldest of us three. He is about 9 years older than me. My brother, Paul, is about 7 years older than me. I am the baby of the family. We lived in a big, blue, beautiful, four bedroom house on 13th Avenue. My mom and I each had our own bedrooms downstairs and my brothers each had their own bedrooms upstairs.

The neighborhood was full of kids of all different ages to play with up and down our block. I'm not sure where my father lived at the time as none of us were ever really close with him, more like estranged. All three of us grew up attending St. Paul Lutheran school from kindergarten to eighth grade because that was our grandmother's wish and because she paid our tuition every year since it was very expensive, to say the least.

I never really knew my grandparents or my aunts or uncles on my mom's side very well growing up, since we did not visit with them very often because they lived in other cities. Of course, we would visit them occasionally, but only a few times a year during holidays. I never knew any relatives on my dad's side, since he was adopted and his parents that adopted him past away before I was born.

When I was younger, I would take negative things that people said to or about me to heart. I never verbally complained about it, but it sometimes affected me to the point where I almost took my own life. But now, I am a strong, independent, stubborn, phenomenon of a woman who won't put up with bullshit from anyone. Your opinion of me will not change who I am and I will never want to be like everyone else.

What I am about tell you, what you are about to discover, are the most difficult, traumatizing incidents I have ever had to face growing up. The whole purpose of me writing this book is to inspire people who have gone through similar traumas. I know that many have gone through a whole hell of a lot worse, but it doesn't make my life experiences any less important. My heart goes out to you. Some of the things I've experienced are not for the faint at heart. This is purely for awareness. I don't want any kind of pity whatsoever, as well as any judgment you may have, as you are not my judge. I grew from all of this. Although, I am still a bit naive about some things, I now realize my experiences were not “normal.”

This book is mainly about my life as seen from a great distance from the deep, dark corners of my mind that I have locked up and hidden away, until now....

Chapter One

Stolen Innocence

It was Friday in the Fall of 1979, when I was 5 years old. I couldn’t wait to get home from school. All I could think about was raking up a big huge pile of leaves and jumping in it. As the bus was slowing down to drop me off, I got up and started slowly going towards the door. We stopped and the doors opened. I ran all the way home, got my key out, unlocked the door, took my book bag and jacket off, and ran to the bathroom. Boy, I had to go pretty bad. I noticed my brothers were already home. My mom was at work. My kindergarten bus was a little late today. My oldest brother, Phil, had a friend over. He said his name was ‘Joe Cool’ (I never knew what his real name was until I was much older.) He had dirty blonde, curly hair, and light blue eyes.

As soon as Joe met me, he couldn’t take his eyes off me. He said I was a very pretty girl. Phil called for Joe to hang out upstairs in his room, but Joe wanted me to hang out with them. (Actually, he just wanted to “hang out” with just me.) Joe wore him down and Phil finally agreed to let me in as long as I was quiet, although, I would much rather go outside and play. The two of them were sitting by each other drooling over nudey magazines and deciding which hard rock music group from their cassette tape collection they wanted to listen to next. As they were smoking their cigarettes, that they shouldn’t be smoking, and blaring the music as if to deafen the outside world along with everyone in the house, I just sat quietly in the corner feeling very uncomfortable and really rather wanting to go make a big pile of leaves. My brother, Paul, had left to go hang out with his friends at their house.

I slowly got up and moved toward the door to escape the strange sounds and smells of my brother’s room when Joe stopped me and said, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going downstairs to get something to drink; I’m very thirsty and I’m starting to get a headache. I’ll come back later………maybe.”

“Hey man, look at this hot chick!” said my brother, making my exit a success.

Finally, I made it out! I turned towards the hall and quickly went speeding down the steps…almost tumbling.

I went into the kitchen to get something to drink, a cold soda. Thoughts of making huge piles of leaves were dancing in my head as I skipped down the hall to my bedroom to change my clothes to play outside. A few moments later, I start taking off my clothes and I hear a tapping sound on my bedroom door; I thought it was my brother, Paul, coming to check on me, but I didn’t think he was home yet. It was Joe. What did he want? “Hold on, I’ll be out in a minute.” He slowly opened my bedroom door and was spying on me like a peeping tom through a window. I started screaming! “GET OUT! I’M CHANGING!”

“Relax, pretty girl. I just wanted to see what you were doing.”


Unfortunately, no one heard him spying on me, nor did anyone hear me screaming at him since the blasting noises of “Ozzy Osbourne” could be heard throughout the whole house. No one saw him open my bedroom door or hear him speaking to me. No one knew what he was doing… one but me. I never did go out and make a pile of leaves to jump in as I was too afraid of Joe coming outside and sneaking up on me. He really gives me the creeps!

A week had past and it was now the next Saturday in the evening. My mom was going out with her boyfriend, Mike, and my brother, Paul, had plans to go to his friend’s house. My brother, Phil, had to babysit me since he had nothing planned except to watch tv all night. He really didn’t want to, but he had no choice.

A little while after everyone had left and it was just me and Phil in the house, Joe called and asked Phil if he wanted to come over and hang out. He told him that he had to babysit his little sister. Joe insisted that Phil and I both come to his house to hang out in his room and listen to music. I did not want to go. I don’t like Joe and I definitely didn’t want to go to his house. He gives me the creeps! The next thing I knew, we were on our way to Joe’s house. I was very mad at Phil for dragging me along. He only lived about 5 or 6 blocks from our house so we walked there.

It must have been around 8 o’clock or so because it was getting dark out and colder. I don’t want to go! I don’t want to go! I just wanted to stay home and curl up on the couch with my blanket and watch tv.

Joe answers the door and takes us right to his bedroom. It’s dark. There are mini lights hung around on the wall near the ceiling. Posters of rock stars and women cover the walls. The room is very small and there’s nothing to sit on except his bed.

He starts showing my brother his cassette tape collection. I sat down on the bed looking at all his posters. There’s one I really like, although it is a bit eerie. The poster is all black and has a face on it. The eyes followed me wherever I went. That’s why I liked it so much. I thought the eyes were cool like they were watching everything that was going on. If only the poster could talk.

After about an hour of banging their heads with the music and inhaling large amounts of smoke from the cigarettes, Phil and I were getting ready to go home. Joe’s mom kept yelling at us through the door that we needed to leave. I told him that I really liked his poster…the one with the eyes that follow you wherever you go. He took it off his wall and said I could have it. When he did that, I thought of him as a real nice guy and that changed my mind about him. I think deep down, I still had a bad feeling about him. He also said that since he is giving me his poster that I owe him a favor some day, as he was rubbing my back.

After school one day, Phil and Joe walked home from school together and Joe came to our house instead of going home to his house. He had a bag of marijuana and had planned to smoke it with my brother in his room. I was home from school already by the time they got there. They both ran up to Phil’s bedroom and did whatever. I didn’t care. I was watching tv. My brother, Paul, must have gone to one of his friend’s house after school again. He usually didn’t get home till supper time or just before my mom got home.

An hour had past and I could really smell that nasty stuff. I was getting a headache and sick to my stomach. Again, I was thinking about making a pile of leaves and jumping in them since I was feeling a little less uncomfortable around my brother's guest. Joe came downstairs. He asked me if I still liked that poster. I said yes. He went to my bedroom to see where I hung it on my wall. Then, he came into the living room where I was laying on the floor watching tv, leaning my head against the coffee table. I was watching Bugs Bunny, my favorite cartoon.

Joe laid down next to me. I could tell something was wrong, but I didn’t understand what. He was high from the marijuana he was smoking. He was acting very strange. He kept telling me how pretty I am and that he really likes me a lot. He started touching me on my private girl’s area. I’m not going into detail exactly what he did because I’m sure you already know or can only imagine.

I kept trying to move his hands away and told him to stop it. He wasn’t even listening to me. Why was he doing this? Why is he touching me at all? Why? He’s my brother’s friend! I thought he was a nice guy. I’m just a little kid!

We could hear Phil coming downstairs wondering where Joe went and calling his name. Joe turned to me and said, “You better not tell anyone about this or I’ll tell your mom and you’ll get in trouble.” He put a lot of fear into me when he said that. I never told my mom. I didn’t tell my brothers or anyone else what Joe Cool did to me. I didn’t want to get in trouble.

I felt so ugly, at that moment, so ashamed, even dirty. I felt like I did something wrong. I sure didn't feel like a very pretty girl. I didn’t feel human anymore. Because of this, I could “see” things in a different way. I felt exactly like the story of Adam and Eve from the Bible from Genesis 3:7: “At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame...” After that first traumatic experience, it was as if my eyes were now opened and my mind was awakened to all the “adult” things of the world…an understanding and knowledge of good and evil, but more evil than good. My innocence was taken away from me, more like stolen. It's like I was aware of things I shouldn’t have known for at least ten to fifteen more years as a little girl of age 5. No one could ever know what happened. It was though he signed my soul with his evil hand that read, “JOE WAS HERE.”

Joe told Phil he had to leave or he would be grounded. So, Joe left and Phil went back upstairs. No one else was home. I really wished my brother, Paul, were around whenever Joe would come over. I wouldn’t have told him about what just happened, but I would feel safer with him home.

After Joe had left, I ran to my bedroom to get some clean clothes and ran into the bathroom. I started drawing a bath for myself and taking off my clothes. I felt so dirty. As I took my clothes off, I was looking around to see if he left any “special” marks on me….marks not any doctor or mother could see, marks that only I could see. I was “stained” for life.

The water was so hot. That’s the way I wanted it. I got into the tub and took the bar of soap and literally started to scrub myself everywhere. I just wanted to scrub my skin right off. Trying not to cry too loudly so I didn’t get questioned by anyone who might hear me, my mind and my body were in shock. I was even shaking. After about a half hour of scrubbing my “dirty marks” off, (which never went away) I got out, dried off, and got dressed. I felt so disgusted with myself. I didn’t want to eat or see anyone. I couldn’t face anyone. I just wanted to sleep.

Since that day, I don't remember seeing much of Joe, until the following summer. My mom and her boyfriend, Mike, took my brother, Phil, Joe, and me to Bay Beach Amusement Park. Mike and my mom were in the front seat. Phil, Joe, and I were in the back part in the bed of the truck, which had a covering over it, like a shell. I remember Phil sitting on the right side of me and Joe was on the left of me as I sat between them. I was sitting with my knees up. About half way there, Joe started touching my knee as he and Phil were talking. Then, Joe turned and asked me if I wanted to play “chicken.” Looking confused, I asked him, “What's that?” He said, “I'll show you.” He started moving his hand slowly from my knee down my thigh. I didn't understand the game or what I was supposed to do. As he got closer to my private area, Phil finally noticed what Joe was doing. He started yelling at Joe. “STOP TOUCHING MY SISTER!!” After that day, as far as I know, Phil and Joe were never friends again.

~~~~~ The First Babysitter ~~~~~

It was a usual day in 1980. I am five, going on six years old. I got up early so my mom could drop me off at the babysitter’s, Sue, house so she could go to work. I had to get my book bag ready for afternoon kindergarten. My brothers are both at school already. The bus picks them up before my mom and I leave. We get into our car, a late ‘70’s, old, rusty, blue, Buick that is shaped like a boat. She starts yelling at the car to start because we don’t have time for this today as we are already running late.

The car finally starts and we get to the babysitter’s house. She drops me off at the side of the road. She never brings me inside the babysitter’s apartment or even goes into the apartment parking lot. My mom doesn’t even kiss or hug me goodbye before she leaves. The only thing she says is, “Don’t miss the bus! I’ll see you when I get home from work,” as she drives away in a rush to beat the morning traffic on her way to work. This is typical. She never takes the time to even say “I love you,” even if when she's not in a hurry. I walk up to the security door of the apartment building that my babysitter lives in and push the button to get buzzed in.

Sue buzzes me into the building and lets me in her apartment. She tells me to sit down and watch tv until it’s time to go outside to my bus stop and wait for my bus. She has a son about my age. His name is Jonathan. This kid does not have any manners whatsoever. He talks loud when he speaks. He throws things, and sometimes he even spits on people. Here I am sitting on the couch and he goes into the kitchen, takes a can of soup out of the cupboard, comes back into the living room where I am and throws the can of soup at my head. As I’m going down, I hit my head on the end table and then finally crash down onto the floor. I had a bump on my head so big, I thought I grew another head! I started crying hard. I cried so hard my vision was getting very blurry. Sue starts yelling at Jonathan. He starts crying and says he didn’t do it.

Sue picks me up off the floor while I’m still crying and says I’ll be ok. She picks up my book bag and puts it up over my shoulder and lifts me up. Without even taking a look at my head and making sure that I don’t have a concussion, she picks me up, carries me out of her apartment, out the door, and to my bus stop. I am still crying very hard while this is going on after the shock of the blow to my head from the soup can, the table, and the floor, not to mention the massive pain and head swelling. She lays me on the ground and tells me to wait for the bus to come and take me to school and not to tell my mom what happened. As she’s walking away, she says, “If you ever talk about what just happened, you’re really gonna get it next time!” I had no idea what she meant by ‘gonna get it’ but the tone of her voice was scary and threatening.

As soon as she got into the building and into her apartment, I started to stop crying, dried my face with my sleeve, and was actually feeling better and a lot safer. The bus came a short while later and I went to school and had my usual day of learning there. No one at school suspected anything had happened to me. They were all just little kids like me. The teacher never knew anything about it. I didn’t tell anyone.

Every trip to the babysitter’s place before the bus came by to pick me up since that day had gotten better and better each time. I heard Sue telling my mom that Jonathan was getting out of control and that he was going to be staying with his father for a while. That was such a big relief for me to hear those words. Now I don’t have to hide in the bathroom anymore, I thought to myself. It was over. I didn’t have to feel scared of that kid anymore. She can go on ignoring me every day if she wants to….I don’t care….as long as I had her place to stay in and be warm until the bus came to get me for school. Since Jonathan went to live with his father, I never saw him again after that. Sue stopped babysitting me soon after. Barb, Sue's sister, then started babysitting me.

~~~~~ Innocent Eyes ~~~~~

When I was about 6 years old, my mom dropped me off at a new babysitter, a couple of teenagers. After about an hour of being there, everyone left and I was locked outside the house. It was getting dark outside and very cold. I honestly didn't even care that they left me. I didn't have a good feeling of being there anyway, but I still would have preferred to be in a warm place. I just wanted my mom to hurry up and pick me up so I could go home. People kept walking by and I started getting scared because I didn't want anyone knowing I was alone. I hid in the bushes for a while until the sky was pitch black.

As soon as I felt a little safer, I went next door to see if I could use a phone to call my mom. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I started knocking louder, still no answer. I opened the door and noticed the neighbor lived upstairs. I looked up and there must have been about a hundred steps! I finally reached the top, but the door was slightly opened and there was a light on. I knocked rather softly as I could hear voices. I spoke in a loud whisper, “Hello? Is anyone home? Can I use your phone?” It seemed as if no one heard me, so I knocked a little harder, which pushed the door wider.

While the door slowly creaked open, I again asked if I could use the phone. My eyes widened and my throat tightened. The voices I heard were that of 2 elderly men having sex. Not something a 6 year old's eyes should ever see. I felt a panic feeling inside me about a thousand times worse than an hour earlier. A feeling of terror instantly rose up my spine. I quickly turned around and ran down the steps, which seemed endless. I ran as fast as I could back to the babysitter's house, as if I were on fire. I was actually hoping someone would have come back by now, but it was still locked up like a fortress. By this point, I was crying and I was never one to cry very easily.

I quickly calmed myself down long enough to try again. I would have walked home if I knew where I was. I got up the nerve to cross the busy street and try another house. I couldn't give up! I had to keep trying to call my mom. When I got to the house, I knocked on the door and asked if I could use their phone. I had tears rolling down my face as I asked politely in desperation. A man answered the door and a woman was there too, sitting in a chair watching tv. He was very reluctant to let me in. I was sobbing and out of breath from running and feeling panicked. I didn't tell him why I was crying, what I just saw, or anything that just happened. He didn't seem to care anyway. He had a disgruntled look on his face like I was interrupting him from watching his favorite tv show.

After a few minutes of thinking about it, he finally let me in. I dialed the phone and let it ring and ring and ring. No one answered so I hung up. I asked if I could try again in a few minutes. The woman was getting very agitated. She yelled at me and said, “HURRY UP!” I called again and my brother, Paul, answered. He must have just gotten home from his friend's house. My voice was shaking. I asked if mom was there and if she was going to pick me up. It felt like she had forgotten about me. He said she wasn't home, but could hear the urgency in my voice as he tried to assure me that she would be here soon. I felt a little better after talking with him. I asked the couple if I could stay until my mom got there. They said no, that I needed to leave.

Bravely, I slowly walked back across the busy street, back to the locked, dark, empty house where my mom dropped me off. After about a half hour, my mom finally picked me up at last! I told her everything that had happened, everything that I had gone through that night. She didn't seem to care! I don't even think she was even listening much. All she said was, “That was a waste of 20 bucks!” I think this is why, after telling her everything, I could never trust her enough to open up to her.

~~~~~ 9 Days Abandoned ~~~~~

In the summer of 1982, I was introduced to a new babysitter named Barb. She is Sue's sister. She was a very nice lady. She was a homemaker and wife to Charles Sr, and mother to Charles and Jennifer. As soon as I met Charles, we were instantly best friends. We were inseparable! His mom, Barb, used to call us “Charlie's Angels.” He lived in an apartment across the street from “Military Miniature Golfland,” a miniature golf place. We used to go there almost every time my mom dropped me off. It was only 50¢ per game and I remember eating Mars bars there. There was also a wooded area near where he lived too, and we used to build forts with sticks and walk the trails. Barb babysat me for about a year or so.

One day, my mom dropped me off, but didn't tell me when she was going to pick me up. She left me there for 9 days! When she dropped me off, I thought she was just going to work, as usual. She didn't tell me when she'd be back to pick me up. After the second day, I thought she was never coming back for me. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. She never even called me the whole time she was gone. I had no idea where my brothers were either. To this day, I still don't know if they were with her or if she did the same thing to them. I never knew where she went or why she never told me.

When she finally came to claim me as her child again, I was happy to finally see my mom again. But at the same time, I was so hurt that she just left me there, never knowing if she'd ever come back for me, not knowing if I'd see my mom again, not knowing where she went or why she abandoned me. I was very hesitant, at first, about going home with her, but I did. Barb did not babysit me again after that as she could see how much it affected me to be separated from my mom for so long and being neglected by her by dumping me off and deserting me.

During those 9 days though, I did have some fun with my “temporary family.” We all went to see the movie, “E.T.” at the movie theater. After the movie, we went to Prange Way where Charles bought me an E.T. necklace. (I still have the necklace!)

~~~~~ Random things I remember about my mom ~~~~~

My mom never taught me how to cook or sew, do laundry, or anything, that I can remember...and I was the only girl. I don't remember doing much with her or even having conversations with her. She, very rarely, would let me have friends over. I think I got on her nerves because I was always at their houses. I remember her talking about details of her sex life when I was a kid, as if I was her friend and not her little girl, when she'd cheat on her boyfriend, Mike. I don't remember any Christmases or birthdays. I don't remember ever having a birthday cake. I don't remember her taking me trick or treating. I remember walking to St Paul's on Sunday mornings for choir because it was important to me and we had to be there and my mom was always sleeping. I remember bundling up with about 3-4 layers of clothes and 3 pairs of socks in the winter and walking over the bridge to get to church. I remember having and going to family reunions, but I don't remember interacting with anyone. Growing up, and even now, it's hard to relate to anyone when they would talk about their parents, or when they grew up, how they did this and that with their family; it's hard for me to understand sometimes. I've always tried to be the kind of parent that neither my mom or dad were not, like just the opposite of them. I remember my mom waking me up at 2 in the morning one time and yelling and hitting me because I forgot to do the dishes.

~~~~~ Robot ~~~~~

My mom dated this guy for about 12 years, from when I was 2 years old till I was about 14 years old. His name was Mike. He lived with us most of the time, even though he had a house of his own on the other side of town that was willed to him when his parents passed away. He would only stay there when he and my mom were fighting, which wasn't often enough, in my opinion. I never really liked him very much. I don't really know why either. He was always nice to me. He used to take me out to the movies or take me out for an ice cream cone once in a while. He was always good to my mom too. Although, she always thought he was cheating on her, I don't think he ever did.

Mike was a short, stocky man, who reminded me of the McDonald's character,“Grimace,” even though he wasn't purple, and he had sweaty, blue eyes. I honestly don't think anyone could ever really find him attractive, except for my mother, of course. He had a son named, B.C., however, I never knew what his initials stood for. BC was about 2-3 years older than me. I didn't meet him until I was about 10 years old since he lived with his mother most of the time and didn't visit with his dad, Mike, very often.

One summer day in 1984, when I was about 10 years old, Mike brought BC over for the weekend. This is the first time I've met him. I had an odd feeling about him when I first met him. Something was off about this kid, but I couldn't figure out what it was. He seemed cool, but weird. He was a very, hairy kid. His arms had more hair on them than a normal kid should have at that age. He even had a little, teen mustache. It looked like a little fuzzy caterpillar above his upper lip.

That Friday night, he asked me if I wanted to play Monopoly upstairs in my brother's bedroom. (My brothers were never usually home during the weekends since they were always at their friend's houses, where they “lived” most weekends.)

After a little while of buying up as much properties as I could and gaining more money than him, he said he wanted to play a new game. He turned the lights off. He told me to stand up and turn around, so I did. I asked him what he was doing. He said he wanted to show me a new kind of game. He started unzipping his pants and taking them off. He pulled down my shorts and underwear and told me to lay face down on the bed. I didn't understand what was happening or what was about to happen. Why are we both naked from the waist down? Why can't we just keep playing Monopoly? Was he upset that he was losing?

So far, I didn't like this new game. I was feeling scared and confused and started shaking a little. He told me that I am now his “robot” and he commands me to do whatever he wants me to do whenever he and I are alone together. I really didn't know what he meant by this at first, so I agreed. I just didn't understand at the time why my clothes had to be off.

While laying face down on the bed, he started touching me, rubbing my thighs. He started touching me with his “elephant trunk.” I kept saying, “No. No. NO!” Then he said, “Shh, quiet! You are my robot now and I command you to be quiet.” I just laid there quietly, trembling. He kept rubbing his “trunk” on my butt. I wasn't quite sure what he was going to do next, but I had a pretty good hunch. Before he could rob me of my virginity, my mom called for us to come downstairs to see if we wanted to watch a movie with her and Mike. I felt so relieved and terrified at the same time. I quickly jumped up, pushed him out of the way, got dressed, and rushed downstairs. BC came downstairs about 5 minutes later, after putting his pants back on and putting the game away. I never told my mom, Mike, or anyone else about it...ever.

~~~~~~ Home Alone ~~~~~~

Towards the end of the summer, my brother, Paul, went to live with our father and stepmother, and my brother Phil, enlisted in the Navy, for 4 years. So, it was just me and my mom at home. Paul enlisted in the Air Force when I was 12 years old (he retired from the Air Force about 21 years later), so then, both my brothers were gone and I was home alone, since my mom was rarely around.

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