At the age of 14
Oct 12th, 2009 | By Fantastic Homosexual | Category: The Fantastic Homosexual
(16 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Loading ...I have spent the last 15 years or so actively suppressing what I am about to share with you, so I am not sure what effect it is going to have on me to actively try to remember as many details as I can.
I still get flashes. His erect penis in front of me, forced into my mouth. The smell of his pubic area. His laugh. His terrifying voice.
He made me feel like this is all I deserve. He made me feel like this was what my life was about.
At the age of 14, my brother forced me to suck his dick.
At the age of 14, my brother ruined my life.
I don’t remember how it started. All I remember is that I suddenly found myself sitting on the couch in our living room, and my brother dropping his pants, releasing his fully erect penis, and grabbing me by the hair, as he pressed it against my face.
I remember odd things.
I remember that the kitchen light was on.
I remember that some woman on the television was selling some fake jewelry.
I remember thinking I wanted to bite his penis off.
I remember thinking that if I did, he would kill me.
I remember the sound of the clock ticking.
I remember, “Suck my cock you fucking faggot.”
I remember that his pubic hair was the first thing I tasted.
He kept his cock pressed against my mouth for a while. I refused to open my mouth, and the smell of his cock on my face made me nauseous.
He kept talking. I don’t remember what he was saying, but I remember it made me feel like shit. It made me feel like I was a cocksucker, in the worst possible connotations associated with that word.
He grabbed my neck with his hands, started to strangle me, until I opened my mouth for air. He put his fingers in my mouth and pulled my mouth open enough to get his full cock in there.
I gagged.
I wanted to bite.
I froze.
He started pulling it in and out of my mouth, and I was sitting there, completely frozen.
I closed my eyes and went to Disneyland. I could see Donald Duck walking down Main Street, I could smell the cotton candy, I could hear “It’s A Small World” playing, I could feel the wind in my hair as I went down Splash Mountain.
A salty taste in my mouth brought me back to reality. I opened my eyes and saw that my brother was now putting his pants back on. In my mouth, on my chin, and on my shirt, there was something white and sticky. I don’t remember the taste of it.
I only remember the taste of my tears.
I got up and went to take a shower. I sat there, on the floor, crying, shivering, puking.
My mother knocked on the door.
“You’ve been in there for an hour. Yalla!”
She was back home. It was safe. I got out, put on my pajamas and slept.
15 years later, I wish I had never woken up.
I can’t look at my brother today. There is too much anger. I wonder if he remembers. I wonder if he feels guilty. I wonder if I will ever be able to be comfortable around him.
I wonder if he hurt anyone else. I wonder if his child, my nephew, is safe. I wonder if he remembers.
I can’t talk about it. I have not tried to understand what happened. I don’t want to.
I am not ready.
Can totally relate! “I am not ready” either.
I don’t know whether I am angry or sad.
I just hope that we are all able to forget emotional pain.
What do I say, if I know nothing about that?!
Salaam,
I’ve been there. My sister abused me for years. She was abused herself, then turned it on me. I worried about her daughters as well. One in particular showed some signs of sexual abuse growing up. I should have turned my sister in to the family welfare authorities back then. They could have determined if her daughter needed help or not. As it was/is, I avoid my sister as much as possible.
It took me years to say it, years to let it acknowledge itself in my wakeful presence, and years to realize it was safe and beautiful to enjoy sex.
My love and heart goes out to you!
Nobody is ever ready for that. But, you are a wonderful and strong person to face it – to give it form in the words you used to describe it.
Be well.
There is strength is telling your story and speaking your truth. There is so much guilt and shame those of us who have been sexually abused carry but I’ve learned the bravery you’re exhibiting by sharing this has so much power in it. I honor you and wish you so much support in your healing process.
Also, it’s normal too to worry about other family members, I believe because unfortunately, there is all too often cycles of abuse within families. I hope that as you find your voice and it gets louder you can break the silence and hopefully break cycles. I know it probably seems unfair that this burden of responsibility would be pushed onto you but it’s not your fault, not your responsibility but sometimes, it takes our immense courage to say enough is enough.
In my own family, I hope by speaking our truths my family members and I who have been abused are breaking cycles….
Oh wow. That is so unbelievably brave. It must have been excruciatingly hard to write that.
Good on you for letting it out and putting it out there like that.
The strength and bravery to tell your story can be the beginning to the healing process. I hope it can be.
You are indeed fantastic in the sense that you braved writing and recollecting about it. Congratulations for that.
I, myself, was also abused and just a single thought of what happened to me 15 years ago still gives me a shiver.
You may not be ready for now. Time will come.
I can not relate to your story but my heart aches for you because this could happen to anyone and happens too often. I want you to be free of the shame and guilt and trauma that you feel and let the rest of us reading your story shoulder your pain ourselves. I would gladly take this upon my own heart if only to let you take one breath. What an evil and defected soul. I don’t usually like to make judgements upon others, but he will burn in hell.
what a brother…
very expressive…
well done…
but me, i would have definitely bitten it off…
Amazing article.. I was abused myself.. Thank God its locked somewhere in my memory but still I remember and I hate…
you are an amazing person !
ASSHOLE