The seventh in our series of confessions longer than 600 characters.
This confession was written by TruuConfessor Casper, and we found it simply heartbreaking. How do you heal when you indirectly cause the sexual abuse of your friends? As this confessor says, it’s like a broken leg that never heals – forever painful, and crippling.
If you've got a confession longer than 600 characters that you'd like to share with Truu, please email firstname.lastname@example.org. For guidelines, click here.
My father is a pedophile. This seems impossible for me to talk about in real life. The years I lived with my father were filled with the liberty of an adult but with the maturity of a kid. He would buy the best brand of cigarettes for me but I never had any food or milk. I was happy with friends’ sandwich crusts at school for lunch. Once in a while, some of my friends (and their parents) would pack extra food for me. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived without those friends.
The monster that is my father sexually abused 10 of my friends and raped five, between my 12th and 14th birthday. Most of those years are blurry because I was always high or drunk, and I wasn’t aware any of this happened at the time. I know what he did wasn’t my fault but I can’t help but feel responsible for what happened to them. If they weren’t my friends, they would have avoided the abuse he created in their lives. Every time I think of them I feel overwhelmed by guilt, and sad that I will forever be remembered as the girl who introduced them to the monster… the reason they crossed his path.
Whenever I try talking about him in real life, even before opening my mouth my heart starts to race and I shake, and I usually can’t bring myself to do it. You must also know that this story didn’t start nor end there. The first accusation was my sister’s friend (8yo) and the last was my niece (4yo) and he is still walking the streets. I see Facebook pictures of him with young children and I instantly feel sick, I can’t talk to him and I will not forgive him. The daddy’s girl inside me loves and misses her father but the adult mother I am today wishes he would disappear from the face of this earth.
I was taken out of there by my mother when I was 14 years old, we were supposed to go out for lunch but I realized fast enough that we weren’t going in the right direction. The police were waiting for her to get me out before coming in and arresting my father. Today I am so thankful she had the courage to get me out of there and deal with her rebellious teenage daughter.
I hold my head up and move forward but this part of my history feels like a broken leg that won’t ever be fixed.