Like most people, I can only remember so far into my childhood but there are a few events that really stand out. One, for instance, is the day and the conversation that began the abuse. I was 4. I know this because I remember the apartment that we lived in. The walls were really white. We moved right before I turned 6 into an older house and the walls weren’t as white. That’s how I can place the timing. I also, some how, remember that I hadn’t started kindergarten yet. So I was 4.
I was sitting on my parents’ bed. My mother was gone, probably at work. He was walking around naked. I must have asked questions about his anatomy. Any curious 4 year old would ask what that “thing” is. And so it began. His open door to priming me into his will. It all started with explaining how babies are made and NOT in an age appropriate matter. I remember him talking about “love juice.”
“Can you drink it?” I asked.
“Of course!” He answered.
I don’t think I need to finish. It’s pretty obvious what happened next. He followed up with the typical, “This is our little secret. Just between you and me. You are so special and I shared this special moment with you.”
I don’t remember when exactly the fondling began but I’m sure it was around this time.