Lately since the flashbacks have become more detailed, I have been feeling a strange blend of extreme emotion but yet a sense of dissociation at the same time. When I think about the terrible things that he did to me as a child, my heart becomes filled with sadness thinking about the little girl, even though she was me. I want to hold her in my arms and comfort her, and raise my sword to fight the bad man that hurt her so badly and stole her innocence. He broke her trust and her heart along with her body. My adult body to this day bears damage from his abuse. I have been plagued by a lifetime of urinary and bowel problems thanks to what he did to me. And for what? I served as a receptacle for his "pleasure", I meant nothing more to him than just something he could use and throw away until he needed it again.
Did a part of me die that day in that sunlit bedroom of my childhood that first time he violated me? Or in the many, many nights that followed when he sneaked into my bedroom? I would like to say no, that my soul is too strong for him to destroy but is that just wishful thinking or the truth?
I am so sorry I failed myself. I know I was only a child and had no chance of protecting myself from him, but I wish I had fought harder. I try to tell myself that I was only five, what could I do against a determined grown man? But then I remember the pain he inflicted on me and I just want to break down.