My Abuse Story by Hailey A Fowler (free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

Hey, I'm Hailey. I'm 18 years old and I'm a victem of sexual assult by a family member, shitty, right? scariest part? Today I found out this man, my uncle, has gotten married and his wife just had a baby. A girl baby.

Let me start by explaining what happened. Bear in mind I'm going off memory, which is, considering how long it's been, pretty good.

Basically, when I was two or three-ish this all started. The abuse ended a few days before my sixth birhday.

During that time my uncle made me watch porn videos, touched me, made me touch him and made me play with sex toys. By "made" I don't mean he physically forced me. No, worse than that. He taught me it was a game. I was too young to understand how sick and wrong it was. I called it the "bum game" thinking it was fun. I ran around him saying "Let's play the bum game uncle Cam!" and to cover up what that really meant infront of other people he would pick me up and toss me playfully onto a nearby couch or mattress. No one knew what was really going on because of how well he hid it. You can't blame my parents or grandparents either though because they had no idea. My dad and mom split up when I was a baby so my mom was living in the okanagan (mainland) whereas my dad and I were living on Vancouver Island. about 400 miles away...ish. Anyways, I lived with mom at first but we got in a huge fight and I ended up leaving to live with dad.

Now the reason dad didn't know was because I would go spend time at my grandparents place on the shooting range/camp ground they cared for while he was at work. The reason they didn't know was because they would go out places or care for the grounds and leave me with Cam.

When they left I would stay with him in the little travel trailor he lived in at the time outside the house. Heres where I explain what happened, please understand that I was practically a baby and had been taught this was a good thing, a fun game. I didn't understand and explaining this is hard but I feel like I should finally share the details of what happened.

He told me to touch him. I did, He showed me videos and told me thats what I was supposed to do, He told me to touch myself, so I did. He made me play with toys. I did. I thought it was fun, I asked to play the bum game thinking it was a great game and if he didn't want to he'd hand me a sex toy and say to play it with that. I did. For four to five years I did this and got to the point that I loved it.

Until one day I told my dad what the bum game really was.

my dad told me that the game was bad, very bad and said not to tell my mom until after my birthday which was only days away. Again I thought it was a game and when my mom called that night I told her what happened. That same night she was there and took me away. Because of that, shes my hero. I don't blame my dad for telling me to keep quiet. He only wanted me to wait so it wouldn't ruin my birthday.

My mom took me directly to the police and told them what happened. They were nice and one of them took me around "Trick or treeting" even though it was no where near halloween. I got a huge shopping bag of candy and teddy bears. Even though I admit I was treated well, I hate those police almost more than I hate my uncle. Know why? They made me tell them everything that happened, they made me show them what he did with stuffed animals, in detail and then they sent my mom and I away and said they couldn't do anything because I wasn't a reliable source of information. Because I couldn't give dates and times.

I was not even six.

I told them IN DETAIL how my uncle touched me and still, it wasn't enough detail.

I hate them.

This man is out there today with a wife and a daughter. I wont stop until he loses his daughter, I wont allow her to go through what I did. Worse, thats her own father.

Let me just say that I am a young mom and I know and fully understand the pain that losing his child would enflict on him but let me tell you that it will be more painful to this girl if her own father tries to have sex with her.

I'm going to be perfectly honest. This did not affect me emotionally. It did not cause me pain. I'm not upset it happened. It never did, I never was. The last time I cried about this because it made me sad was the night I told me mom what happened while sitting on our couch. The thing that makes me cry? Because of this sick man, I lost my child hood and had a discusting, sad, and twisted thing of a childhood. Because of him I thought it was okay to touch my pets and other kids I played with when I was only a little, little girl. One thing that always bothered me was that I had to go to counciling, which not only made me hate councilors but didn't do anything but bore me. All the councilor did was ask me how my day was and tell me about how private parts should stay private. This should have been taught to not only me but my sick in the head uncle.

I cry about this because when I see the kids I grew up with I cry, some of those kids I touched thinking it was okay. Some of them might be scarred because of me just like I was because of my uncle. It makes me sick. I've grown up and become a mother now and I know that if my son came to me and told me he'd been touched, I'd grab the nearest shotgun. Jail or no jail. To this day it shocks and amazes me that people can do these things. How can a man touch a little girl? How can a mother kill her child, as I saw in the news paper? How can a parent beat their children? It's sick. It's scary. It's the one thing I don't and will never understand.

I don't want sympathy, I don't want "I'm sorry"'s and I deffinitly don't wan't hater opinions. I just want other abuse victems to know they aren't alone and that it's okay to cry. Don't be afraid. No one will judge you and if they do then their sick too. Love yourself. Be anything and everything you can be. Don't turn to drugs and alchahol. Believe me I've also delt with a druggy, my own dad actually and trust me when I say it makes things worse. It might make you feel better for the time being but it will destroy you and everything you ever loved.


Don't pity yourself.

Believe you can be strong.

Understand that what happened isn't your fault. and most of all,

Know that you're loved and needed, know that you can always talk. Voice your hurt and opinions. It might not help make you feel better but it might help make the person who's hurt you's life a living hell. :)

Let me also tell you that now in life, I'm happy. I have a ten month old son. Yes I'm a young mom but I'm a good mom who loves her little boy very much. I just published an ebook on all major ebook stores, I have never been to a party in my life, never so much as tried, drugs and have been drunk only once. I didn't finish high school yet but I plan on going back once my little man is a bit older and more independant. I have survived sexual assult, my mom having thyroid cancer, my dad abandoning me for a year because of drugs, my grandpas death (whom I loved very much), lost loves, lost friends and more and still I say there is no need for drugs, alcohol or anything else to that affect. To me, turning your life into a living hell because you were hurt in the past screams pity party, though I do still encourage people who have gone that direction to join the group, you are still technically part of it and are still welcome.


For those who are reading this but don't know about my Teens There for Teens page on facebook, check it out. Even if your not being abused or have ever been abused, the page is there for abused people to know they aren't alone and that they're loved. Show them your there and you support them by liking the page and/or posting that you care. Thanks. <3.

My facebook page is called Teens There For Teens (or anyone) Who Have Been Abused. The direct link is https://www.facebook.com/pages/Teens-There-For-Teens-or-anyone-Who-Have-Been-Abused/179951898805409?ref=hl .

Text: Hailey Fowler
Images: Hailey Fowler
Editing: Hailey Fowler
Publication Date: 07-26-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To those who like my facebook page for teens who've been abused.