My life had changed forever on that fateful day. No more would I be a carefree child. He had robbed me of that. I felt so dirty. I felt tarnished, never to shine again. The light had left my eyes just as the blinding shock of reality had opened them.

Over the next fifteen years, there were many similar instances that made me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. Most of the instances were rather mild forms of sexual abuse. Thank God I was never raped, but his advances and touches made me feel just as violated.

On my seventh birthday, mom sent me up to my room for a pair of shoes. She told me that she wanted me to show them to my Aunt Marilyn, so I ran up to get them.

When I entered my room, I was so thrilled. You see, for my birthday mom and dad had purchased me a brand new bedroom suite. The furniture was the most beautiful antique white color with gold flecks sprinkled throughout it.

I gazed around my room at the large chest of drawers and dresser with the large, ornate mirror. I was really a big girl now I had thought. I had such beautiful, grown-up furniture. The bed was topped with a large canopy, which was decorated with a patchwork design. The bedspread and curtains matched. I even had pillow shams!

I could hardly contain my excitement. I hurriedly grabbed the pair of shoes for which I had been sent. As I spun around quickly, I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me. There in front of me was Rob stark naked.

I suddenly was filled with revulsion and anger. He leered at me, his eyes urging me to come closer. "You can touch it," he said seductively. The first time a girl sees a penis is a shock, but when the girl is barely seven years old it is a terrifying experience. I didn't even have time for the ugly, swollen mass of hair and skin to register.

I made a beeline out of the room, running as fast as I could. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was out of breath. My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would burst. I ran over close to the protection of my mom. She took the shoes, and asked if I liked what was in my room. I, of course, knew that she meant the furniture. Answering her did not come easy.

"Oh, the bedroom suit is just lovely, Mom. Thank you so much," I said mostly from habit. Luckily, my manners had jumped in to save me. Everyone smiled and was pleased. They had no idea what horrors were lurking in my room. They had no idea that I had more than one birthday surprise.

I know that my grandmother knew something was not right. Grandma asked inquisitively, "Where is Rob?" I pretended that she had said nothing. I visited with my party guests, trying to rid my mind of the horrible image and Grandma's questions. Yes, it was just easier to not think about it.

My grandma had even voiced her concerns on numerous occasions. I would always quickly dispel her worries, and change the subject. My mom and dad just thought she was being over-cautious. I knew that she knew, though. The wise look in her eyes told the whole story. She would glance at Rob with distrust, and her look would try to coax me into confessing his evil ways.

There was something that always stopped me from telling. I had fantasized about telling my parents thousands of times. I would lie awake for hours and rehearse what I would say to mom and dad. I never told them, though. I am not sure if it was my fear of it becoming known or the embarrassment of my guilty feelings.

I guess that most of all it wasn't my style to be a bother. I had never wanted to impose on anyone. I never took the last cookie on the plate. I never asked for a drink of water at a friend's house, even if I was dying of thirst. I always replied a polite, "No thank you," when I was offered a snack.

It just wasn't how I was raised. I was always taught to be a good little girl. I was told to speak only when spoken to, and I was told that it is not polite to inconvenience others. Many parents do not realize that this is a very dangerous lesson to teach your daughter.

I was a child wise beyond my years. Many believed that was because I was, for the most part, raised as an only child. They were way off base. My innocence was stolen from me at an early age.

As late as my teenage years, I would awake to find Rob standing over my bed. He would leer at me, watching me intently. There is nothing as creepy as being watched while you sleep. I would feign sleep, and rustle around, hoping that he would leave. If that didn't work, I would act like something startled me. I would then rub my eyes and move around a little more aggressively. This usually worked.

I had learned to play the game. It is sad, but it is true. I had learned to "pretend" to be asleep, just as I had learned to "pretend" to be the perfect child. No, I couldn't let anyone find out that I wasn't perfect. I couldn't let anyone find out that there was something wrong with me. I would just keep it all a secret.

What I didn't know then was that those secrets are what give the abuser power. Young girls must find the courage deep within themselves to tell. They must confront their demons and struggle with the pain. I admire the girls that had the courage to tell on their abusers. They are my heroines. They are the valiant ones that left their abusers powerless.

Unfortunately, I didn't tell a soul until I confided in my best friend as a teenager. I never told my Mom until many years later, after I was grown with my own children. I ask myself why, and I am still not sure of the answer. I guess I didn't have the courage or the foresight.

Rob's wife had just given birth to their second daughter in less than a year. I felt that I had no choice but to tell her the truth. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I hadn't told her. The most surprising thing was that Rob never denied abusing me. That, I think, was the most generous thing that he had ever done for me.

It was brought to my attention years later that he had been abused after his mother sent him to live with his uncle. Her kids would abuse each other, and this is where he had been molested. I know that he had lived a hellish childhood, filled with pain and rejection. That, however, was no excuse for his abusing me. Just because we can understand how a person became a sexual abuser, does not mean that their terrible experiences should excuse their behavior.

Still to this day, it gives me the creeps to be alone with Rob. A few years back, our kids wanted to go trick-or-treating, so I agreed to allow them to go together. Since I never leave my kids alone with Rob, I agreed to go. As soon as the door to the mini-van was closed, I felt the same nervousness that I felt as a child. It was like I had been transported back decades, and I was a scared little girl all over again.

I still avoid him at all costs. Avoiding Rob is how I survived my childhood, always going in the opposite direction that he was. I know that my parents were baffled by my vehement protests to go anywhere with him. I know they were angry and my antics that seemed rather spoiled and bratty when I outright refused to be alone with him. My grandmother always just gave me a knowing smile. Not a smile of joy, but a sad smile that whispered, "I know, honey. I know.."

Use the links below to go to the other parts of the story. This is a story that is based on a real life account. The names have been changed.

Back To Part One

Back To Part Two

Back To Part Three

Copyright by Katherine West 2000-2001