I had pigtails that day, I was seven and so excited, my usually dark hair had begun to grow some blonde in it and I thought it was fab. That day my eldest brother came to see us. He was in care as my mum had tried to kill him. Normally he would be upset on these visits but this day he was happy.
My Brother Raped Me – One Mums Horrific Story
We were talking in my room when he undid his trousers and shut my door. He put a pillow over my head as he raped me. I couldn’t scream, could barely breathe, and that pain. My brother raped me that day.
The pain was white hot burning, tearing through me
Afterwards he fixed my pigtails and smiled, telling me if I told mum I would be sent away too. My mum didn’t notice the blood that soaked into my bed sheets.
The next time we were at dads. He wrapped a phone cord around my neck and choked me if I struggled. Dad saved me by calling us down to dinner. He had to stop. He told dad we were playing rough and he was sorry for the marks on me.
He never touched me again after that.
When I was 11 I got chicken pox. At home I was watching something on TV and this girl came on who had been raped. She described what my brother had done and all of a sudden I knew the word to tell what he did. That night I told my mum. She looked at me and told me that if I was lying then no more would be said but I told her it was the truth.
She phoned my dad, then the police. I had tests that showed I was no longer a virgin and there was internal scarring. My brother was interviewed and admitted it.
I had to see a social worker who kept talking to me about clouds. My mum wouldn’t look at me. I had betrayed her son. I didn’t see my dad for weeks. I was scared he would blame me too. But one day I was meant to see him and I said no. He waited outside for me and my mum told me to go out to him. He saw me coming out and opened his arms to me. I flew into him. His hugs were my only safe place, he was crying and telling me he loved me and didn’t hate me. I went with him that day but he kept me at his side to hug me. I needed my dad.
My brother wasn’t charged. I don’t know why. It didn’t matter to me, he had admitted it and that was huge. My Social Worker told me he did it because he thought I was lucky to be at home. He wanted to come home but couldn’t. He was just a kid himself.
The week before he did it to me some woman in the care home had taken advantage of him, and he thought doing it to me would get him even. At the time he was nearly twelve, like I said just a kid.
Seeing him afterwards was hard, but he thanked me for telling. He had been ashamed of what he did, but couldn’t make it right. He was glad it was out.
It still affects him now; his whole life has been blighted by his past. He will have to live with what he did to me and to me that is punishment enough, he is still my brother. I still love him.
I forgave him a long time ago, but it’s not enough for him. He hates himself. I learned to let it go, but he holds onto it. He doesn’t understand why I forgave him. The answer is simple, he did a bad thing but it wasn’t out of hate or intent to hurt, it was because he had been made to leave his family when he had done nothing wrong and was confused and frightened and wanted his mum.
In his mind he was bad and he wanted love. He thought that would make me love him. Instead it just made him hate himself.
This inspirational post was written anonymously by a mum who is a member of my Facebook mums group. I have full permission to share her story. If you can relate to this post and would like to share your own anonymous post please contact me.
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