All in Child Sexual Abuse
I was really young. Like 13. One day I got my period and I thought I was gonna die. She gave me a yellow Vicodin and told me it was a Naprosyn and I was like, woah this is great. Ever since then I loved them. After that it was like drugs all the time.
We had only been in the neighborhood for about 10 minutes before I saw a young lady. I can usually tell by the way someone carries themselves if they are walking to get to a destination, or if they are working on getting their next fix. I could tell that she was in the later category. I pulled up and told her briefly about the project and asked if she'd like to tell us her story.
I had to give him up for adoption because I had thoughts that shouldn’t be there. In other words, I prefer not to be around little boys.
BW: So, you were worried about doing to him what had been done to you? Did you voluntarily give him up?
Betty: Yes. I broke the chain.
Yummy: I was eight. I never really told anybody. I do feel like that’s what pushed me in the direction where I’m more sexual, I guess, even though it’s used more for a commodity.
BW: You never told anybody about what happened when you were eight?
Yummy: No, you are the first person.
Rochelle: I was seven and my cousin was fifteen. Now, I’m fifty-five. Did anybody talk about stuff like that back then? Hell no. Did I know in my seven year old mind that something was going awry? No, I did not. But, in his fifteen year old mind did he know? Hell yeah.
Actually I’m not homeless. I have a place but… I do drugs. I stay in Norwood and I prostitute over here [downtown] so it’s too far to go home and come right back over here. I might as well go on and stay over here in the downtown area, keep going, get clothes from the shelter.
Let me say this. People who don’t have HIV think it’s not a death sentence but do you know how scary it is to try to fall in love or try to be with somebody because you don’t want to pass it to them?
you’re backed into a corner and you know that you’re about to take all hell. When I pulled the trigger that first time, boom, he was gone. He walked around the bed and dropped on the floor.
I just wish I could get somebody in my life that will say, “that’s my girl” and they could see me through coming out of this shit. I’m a damn good cook and I try to keep the house clean.
I started when I was nine. I was living on the beach, literally. I could go out of the house and be at the dunes in thirty seconds. I met this cat. He was probably eighteen. Good looking surfer dude.
It took a long time to put my dad in prison. I couldn’t tell about what he’d done to me until later but he’d molested cousins and other people too. He was a real nut.
It wasn’t an everyday thing but then again it was. When I’d go to bed at night, I’d barricade my door. It didn’t keep him out but it made noise where I could wake up.
I was 12 but I had a body like a grown woman. *Tears* He took everything from me. My dignity, my pride, my everything. I could never love a man.
He started molesting me when I was 11 and raped me by the time was 13. She married him when I was 15. She didn’t believe anything I said.
He took me and kept me in a motel for about three years. Held a gun to my head while he raped me… he’d sleep in front of the motel door cause he didn’t want me to leave. Yeah, we were in Donalsonville, GA.
I’m not a junkie, I’m an addict. I don’t like that word junkie. I’m addicted to something that I can’t control right now but I don’t want to be judged.
I would want him to know that even though it seems that I’m choosing the drugs over him, that it’s really not the case. *Balling* I don’t know… I just… I don’t know where to start to even get right. It’s not really stopping using the drugs that I need to deal with as much as why I use the drugs in the first place.
Life is hard. Even now at 35 years old it’s hard to get over. I’m not a bad person. I just have a lot of anger inside of me.
When I was younger I had a lot of anger issues, towards a certain person. I’ve been angry for a long, long time but I’ve taken anger management classes and it helped some.
My grandma looked in my eyes and she knew that something was wrong. I kept denying it. She kept asking me and I started crying.