Childhood sexual abuse

TRIGGER WARNING! :: very graphic and detailed about the assault & intense feelings !

All the times he have walked past me all my eyes can do is dart towards the floor, avoiding any eye contact he wanted to possess with me. That must’ve been consent to him— to them. Whenever I look at him, hear him and FEEL him, all I see is the same high school boy who towered over a little girl and left her helpless, defenseless and traumatized. How could anyone call him a son, a cousin a nephew a grandson and a BROTHER after all this? I am speaking about my brother. It is revolting to even type those 8 letters out.. brother. Atlas I have come to the conclusion to say his full name— Edward Walker— the same man who’d rape me day and night if the opportunity was given. I am uncertain about the specific date when it started but it felt like eternity to be in the same skin everyday when the trauma was inflicted so I disassociated. He would find me anywhere, if I was in the shower he’d come and “ shower with me “ or maybe “ give me something “ if I was in my room sleeping he would be there anytime and at times he would force me to come into his room because that is the disgusting type of person he is. Not was. But IS. Edward used to perform indecent sexual acts that were NOT consensual such as making me perform oral, *** his *** and finger into me.. as I was in elementary I thought this was normal until the day I asked myself “Was this how ‘brotherly love ‘supposed to be shown?” Regardless of me believing it was normal for maybe a month or two, It hurt badly.. mentally and physically. More years, tears and wounds came about as a result of this sexual abuse. When I finally opened up to my mom about it she was devastated.. heavily depressed.. so I thought. Even after the abuse stopped she enabled it by letting him stay in the house with me, even alone. Forcing me to have a conversation, attending family events and sitting next to him where our skins touched. I could throw up at the thought of that—while I needed more affection and support than ever after those events, she gave him more love and gave me less all because she didn’t want him to “ grow up like that.” When he should have been in prison where he belonged. I longed for affection and support throughout those times but I was not given it. Whether you question if the rest of my family knew or not? They did. They just decided to turn a blind eye and support him no matter what. Whenever I aimed to even speak out against the abuse to other people to share my pain I was shut down and was yelled at because “ what happens in this house stays in this house. “ My family had injected great fear into me all for the sense of protecting him and not US. I felt disgusted to live in my own skin, my body was not a safe place in my mind but a mere sex toy where as men could do as they pleased with me. I was conflicted and confused as to why my mom didn’t love me like she loved him? In the end rejected me so I let go of all of them. Now, here I am as of today, sharing what’s only a small chunk of my life story.. but let it be known that there is a great amount of history in my family that invokes abuse and I will bear the title of the cycle breaker. I seek to improve— to grow