Warning on this post!!!

Please do not read this post if you become offended by horror stories from child abuse victims!!!!!! I am making this very clear so you can stop reading right about now.....

I was trying to avoid this chapter for as long as possible, god knows it not easy for me writing it as for you reading it, but if I go in chronological order, this is what comes next and it contributes a lot to my time in the Drop-In House, which will be the next chapter.

Please be prepared to read this....

I was raped as a child. For me everything in this era seems to happen when I'm six. I flew to see dad when I was six, my brother was born on my sixth birthday, I was raped at the age of six. The only one I know for certain is that my brother was indeed born on my sixth birthday, the rest happened just before or just after.

The person who raped me was called Uncle Jono. His son came with him as often as not, whether he was older or younger I cant remember, all I know is that we were friends, and Uncle Jono was friends with my second dad. So they were round a lot.

He came to me in the kids room one night. All the kids were asleep, me and my friend Alice had been awake talking while the younger kids slept. We flattened ourselves to our beds when the door opened, we would get in trouble for being up so late. It wasnt the first time this had happened, I dont remember the very first time, but I remember knowing enough to realize that it was trouble when Uncle Jono pressed himself ontop of me on the bed.

I was too young to know what he was doing, so he must have tried it before right? I instinctively pretended to be asleep. I must have been pretty darn stiff being as terrified as I was. He had put his hand over my mouth as he layed on top of me but I kept still. He nussled my neck, kissing and rubbing himself on me but I didnt respond.

He tired of trying and getting nothing from me, and moved to the next bed, the bed Alice was in. I knew she was awake and as Uncle Jono moved from my bed to hers, I heard her let out a whimper of fear.

I held myself ridged, my eyes clenched tight, trying to block the sounds from the next bed out. No matter how hard I tried, I could hear his grunting, the squeaking of the bed springs and my friends whimpers. After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted himself off the bed and left the room quietly.

In the darkness it seemed like it had never happened. I thought that if it truly had, someone would have heard, someone would have known, I would have stopped it...

It did happen though and I will never forget it...

Little Brother

Like I said, I dont remember much.

Before I went to my fathers, mum and I had moved in with my second dad (which really, in my memories, makes him my first dad... This is where it begins to get confusing...). I'm thinking mum knew she was pregnant by the time I got back. My little brother, Tobias, was born ON my birthday, that was a great year for me.

Before that, I remember wanting a sibling. My friends at school all had brothers or sisters. I had three older male cousins and was the youngest child in my family. I wanted someone... And then Tobias came.

He stole my birthday, he cried a lot, and he took a lot of mums time. Yet at first I seem to remember I was more worried about him than mum. Maybe because he was her second child and she knew what to listen for or maybe because I didnt.

This is where my past starts to get dark. This time in my life was not a happy one, and yet I dont remember being sad either. This was around about the time I was abused, the house we lived in was not a savoury one, one I referred to as the Drop-In House, which I will explain later.

I looked after Tobias a lot. I looked after a lot of kids a lot, but Tobias and I were truly siblings. We still are, thank goodness. He is what I had prayed for, funnily enough. As much as I thought he was annoying in those first few years, he was exactly what I wanted. A brother.

After that...

I'm not sure exactly what came next. All I know is that I stayed with my mother until I was six. Whether the abuse came before or after doesnt matter, that is for a later post. I know I went on my first solo aeroplane trip when I was six years old. I remember my mother leaving me at the airport crying and yet I was excited.

Aparently I was smart child, mischevious with the looks of an angel. I had the palest blonde curls and the sweetest innocent little smile you'd ever seen. I know, even I look at the photos and wonder if that was actually me.

Sometimes I think I actually was the Devil Child my mother called me. I don't remember much from my childhood, which is why my blogging these snippets is so important. Even now the images and memories blur in my mind. I wonder at the details that were so clear once upon a time. Yet some are still crystal in my brain.

I digress.

My first trip to my dads state was exciting. I didnt sleep the whole flght, I just couldnt. Dad picked me up from the airport of course. I remember because I was flying underage alone, I had to wait until everyone else got off the plane before I could even undo my seatbelt.

I knew my father right away. Let me make one thing very clear, if my mother thought I could handle a secret, then I knew it. She didnt hide any truths from me, ever. As I grew, more secrets came out but it was always the full truth or nothing. I find no fault in my mothers timing or her bringing up of me, not matter what happened or what I say. She did her best and I damnwell salute her for that! God knows, I would have failed miserably.

Dad had a new girlfriend too, though this one I knew from my time living in the tiny town his family and I were born in. This woman had a daughter as well, she was a few years younger than me and for all intents and purposes. we shall call her Jessica.

I dont know how long I spent there, but I know that Jessica and I fought like cats and dogs. The house that they were now living in was the house my mother and I had lived in, so I felt I had some previous establishment in the house. Jessica had been living there with her mother for quite a while by that time too, so she had her own claim on it.

Thus, we fought. We had to be regularly seperated and yet I remember the doors of our rooms faced each other across the hall. So standing in our doorways we used to throw stuff and pull faces at each other. We were hard enough to deal with by ourselves, let alone together.

There are horror stories of me placing thumb tacks on Jessica's chair before she sat down, and I definately remember that, but I'm sure there was a major argument to do with a dollhouse that I had left there. Jessica came out ontop that argument.

But then again my memory is a bit skew if.

I went home after my alotted time.

First Memory

So where to start? This has always been a major problem with me, I have so much to say that it all gets jumbled and I forget where I'm at. I'll try with these blog entries.

I thought, where better to start than my very first memory? This may be troubling for some, I know remembering it is troubling for me.

I have no idea how old I was at the time; we had left my father so Iwas two and a half, maybe three years old. I remember me, mum and our alsation, Chainsaw, being packed up in the car and long drives so it may have been on our way from one side of the country to the other. It could have been some other drive.

The house in my minds eye reminds me of the place the movie, House. You know, the horror movie where the dead army comrade of the father comes and drags the kid back through the mirror to the swamps of 'Nam? It's probably just my childhood memories playing tricks on my actual memory, but what I remember next is as clear as day.

I was alone in the back room, which was my play room, when mums boyfriend burst into the room. He was yelling and mum was running behind him screaming. Then he threw something. I'm not sure what it was, I know it was mine and that I loved it. He might have picked up a chair from my favorite table n chair set and threw it at my blackboard. I just remember whatever it was broke and it upset me.

Mum yelled some more, Chainsaw came to the rescue and the next thing I knew, we were back in the car with all our belongings.

That was not the last time, either.

Well, beware that this is a randomly inspired blog post.

My Dad has been here for the last week, he's from Queensland and drove three to four days from there to bring my seventeen year old sister a car. That mission completed, he has been staying with me, travelling between mine and my sister's homes.

Spending so much time with these two particular family members is awkward enough on it's own. I will explain.

I'm the oldest of three daughters to my father and one brother to my mother. Dad has lived in Queensland all my life, we live on the other side of the country - and when I say 'we' I mean all of my siblings and me.

K is the seventeen year old who I met for the first time when she was ten and we travelled to Qld together to see Dad - her for the first time. To say that was the most tedious two weeks of my life would not be exagerating the truth. K cried the whole two weeks for her mother. Now, I am not unsympathetic to her missing her mother but crying for the whole two weeks made me want to strangle her.

She is older now and even though I still think she is a spoilt, ungrateful brat, she isn't too bad. K is the youngest, I am the oldest. K has another sister - L - who is not blood related to me at all, her mother had her before meeting our father. I used to play with / torment L when we were younger and we have both grown up into women now, she has a daughter who is my neice even though we are not blood, we are still sisters.

And this is not even the weirdest bit yet.

When I was sixteen, my Mum let slip that Dad had another daughter - one I didn't know about! Yes, that was just a little bit of a shock - understatement of the century. But wait, there's more! She was born...wait for it....

The day after me. Yes, the day after; not a year and a day, not conceived the day after I was born. Born the day after me.

Ie. Daddy was a whore.

There's even more to the story after that. I know what you're thinking. Talk about family skeletons in the closet. Hell yes, that's exactly what it is.

So, this is what happened.

Mum would get pissed off at Dad, go work up north for a few weeks and then come back later sometime, without notice. While Mum was away they were free to see other people. As far as I know, it was an agreement but they were both pretty young and I remember the type of relationship agreements people get into at that age with their first loves.

So yeah, that's what happened. Mum pissed off up to Cairns for the work season, came back a few weeks early for Valentine's Day (ie. Day of Procreation) to surprise Dad. Well, I'm sure they surprised each other, because Dad had a date for Valentine's Day.

Mum told him to go in her car - god knows why - and so A was created. Yep, in the back of my mums car...

So , I have only spoken to Dad recently about A. She tried to contact him and he hasn't responded. Meanwhile, she found my number in the phonebook and we have since gotten to know each other really well and have found many things in common.

Apparently, she lived within twenty minutes of our Dad's small country hometown, where he has lived all his life. Her mother was mentally unable to keep her and so she was brought up by her grandparents. Being from a small country town, Dad's family were familiar with her family, so it's almost like an insestual concoction.

Throw in a drug addict step dad, crazy talkative step mother and my brother's hidden sibling and there is a family whirlpool going on.

The point of this poost was the proverbial pink elephant in the room. With Dad having never met A and both K and I know her fairly well, it's a bit awkward. A was apparently in town this last week and didn't call me - the first time this has ever happened. She never calls K because all she ever wants from A is money, but she called me. It's because the last time I spoke to her, I told her that Dad was going to be here and she said:

"Do I care?"

I understand her POV and I'm sure she understands mine but now it's put this wedge between us and our posititions have always been similar. I don't care if she doesn't want to call me, she's not getting away from me that easily.

And that was the point of this post.

Thanks!

Love always, Gee.

My Dearest Friend, Nathaniel...

I don't know if you even read this anymore, but just in case, I want you to know that you are my dearest and most long-standing friend. Im sure you are aware of this but I thought maybe you should know.

I still think about how we were... It is a very...memorable time of my life. I learnt a lot with you, and I have the feeling that you learnt a lot from me too. I think we are both better people now than we were then, thanks to each other.

I still love you, and like I said; I probably always will, but I love you more for the person you are now. I love the way I can talk to you about almost anything, about how comfortable I am around you. I love the way we can be honest around each other. I like that u understand me and the way I am more than anyone. I love that we can not see each other for weeks and still have the same friendship about us when we next meet. When I have news to tell, you are among the first few I tell it to.

I am glad that we went through all we did to get to where we are right now, I am glad that we are still friends throughout the hole thing. I said it once and I'll say it again; You know and understand me the best out of anyone (except maybe my mother.....still....)

I guess I just wanted to say thankyou.... I know that however much time will pass that you and I will always be friends...and that I really love that it is like that with us... :)

<3 Gee

An Explaination Perhaps?

The reason I really started this particular blog, is so that when I felt this way, there was somewhere I could express myself freely. A place where only few select people knew about, and those who would stumble upon it would not know me and therefore I would not be judged. This is a blog that I can secretly write out what I feel like writing about, no matter what it's content may be. So, be prepared to read about my wildest dreams and fantasy's, plus my deepest darkest nightmares. Travel through the weird and wonderful world of Gee's mind; un-edited! That's right, I do not proof read this, so whatever is written is my own gibberish! (copyright.)

<3 Gee

The man who raped me

I realised today
that I don't know the face
of the man who raped me.

what if I
were to spot with eye,
the man who raped me.

I who not know
the face, the foe;
The man who raped me.

I was so young,
too little and dumb,
to know the man who raped me.

He could live near here;
the face to fear;
the man who raped me.

Your Fortune Is

It is better to lose a lover than love a loser.

The Wacky Fortune Cookie Generator

Fortune Cookie

Your Fortune Is

Stand on toilet, get high on pot.

The Wacky Fortune Cookie Generator

These things 'll kill ya

i remember...........my first time....it was so...secret....yet exciting
i remember all those moments before; the anxiety, the build up
the confusion, the realization and finally the understanding..........
after years of wondering i finally understood why these thing could
kill ya.....i mean i was pillin off my head.....instantly though thats the
problem..........you see ecstacy ingested takes atleast 20 mins to start
having effects........but ecstacy shot up works in seconds..........and all at once
the feeling was so good that i sat in the bath for 10 mins before moving....
my mates in the bathroom with me all doing the same thing......
then out to my gathering, at my house we go.......happy and smiling
i got laid twice that night by two different girls witht the same first name.....
that night was good but my choices bad........that single needle screwed up my life for a year and a half after that......
you see i wanted to do it but it all went to shit after that first time.....
back to my mothers i moved after i was pretty much forced to
leave my wikkid house......
junkie is what i label myself in the year and a half to follow that....
every spare bit of cash and even cash i didnt have went on
speed and pills and little boxs of sharps from the chemist....
borrowing from here and there to get my gear..to get on.....
eventually even stealing and rippin people off.....
now while the first time was great but it started my downward
spiral.....and everytime after it just got harder NOT to do!...
so it got to the point where i used 6 out of 7 days a week and i didnt
even have enough money for that........but i didnt need money...jus
things...............
in retrospect needles aint worth the rush...i mean the rush is great but
it never lets go......you first want it then you need it that when it gets bad..
when you need it.......dont ever need it.....
but if i could go back to that first time......i would still do it the same
because it may have fucked up my life but i part of the reason i am who i am
now is because of my fuck-ups in life that ive learnt from...like this
i now havent touched a needle in a year and its great......... i know where
im goin and why.............
that all i need:)
peace out
Nat(archy)