This is a dark, possibly triggering post. You have been warned. Me Too...

When I was 7 my parents would tease me. They would tell everyone that I had “never met a stranger”. That everyone I met was instantly my best friend or a part of my family. This might be why it was so easy for him to get close to me.

 There were six of us in a three-bedroom rat trap of a house. We loved it. My baby brother and I shared a bedroom. Though we lived in a tight space, we had people over often. My parents were not a happy couple but they were sociable.

They had a childhood friend you see. They had known him so long that he was made Godfather to my oldest brother. Whenever he got himself into trouble he would come to our house and stay, crashing in the living room. He played board games with us and called himself uncle. We felt close to him and got excited to see him when he came over. He was the coolest adult in the world.

One night when I lay asleep in the bed beside my four year old brother, he crept into my room. I was groggy but I remember seeing the silhouette of him in the doorway of my dark room. I could hear the party going on in the living room as distant mumblings and music. He came to my bed side and picked me up. He lay down on the floor with me on top of him. I was confused and scared. I could hear my parents’ voices coming from the other room. He whispered he loved me over and over. His breath smelled  like beer and marijuana. He undid his jeans and pressed me against him, forcing my hand on his penis. He was uncircumcised. He rocked me against him. I was petrified and confused. Then all of a sudden my father appeared in the doorway. Relief washed over me. I remember the feeling. He asked them man what he thought he was doing in the room. He jumped up from the floor and set me back in the bed. He told my father that I had been awake when he passed and that we were playing airplane. If you do not know what that is, look it up. My father looked at me. I was still in shock and terrified. My father was an angry man. He often had bouts of rage that scared me. I was certain he would have one now. But he did not. He followed the man out of my room. He was drunk and stoned you see. I am sure he did not want to believe what some part of him had to be screaming. So I was left there in my room. Confused. The person I thought would protect me against everything walked away. My world caved in around me. The next day I waited at the end of the driveway with my older siblings for the bus to school. My father came out to leave for work and spoke briefly to us. I expected him to be mad for some reason. When he was not I thought that maybe it was something that was supposed to happen.

So it continued. The man got bolder and bolder. He would come into my room and carry me to the living room. In the morning my parents would find me on the floor with him and he would tell them I crawled up to him in the early morning hours. I was to afraid to say anything. This went on until just before my 9^th birthday. One night he was in my room with me. My brother was against the wall. I had faded my mind away to a happy place. My escape. A beautiful green grassy cliff with falling petals and a vast ocean crashing into the rocks. I went there always. As he penetrated me, I felt something happen. I felt like I became a lion. I let out the most carnal roar. I remember how loud it felt inside my head. Like a real lion. My eyes opened and he had flown back across the room, grabbed his belongings and mumbled something like, “if you did not want it you should have said so” or some such thing. I just stared out after him. He had never stopped before. I looked around for a lion in my room. Nothing. I still to this day do not know what it was. 

After that I avoided being home when he was there. I became defiant and locked the bedroom door when he came over. I never let him touch me again.