Anonymous Story: is assault another way to express love?

Anonymous Story: is assault another way to express love?

The first thing I remember growing up is the fact that I was always told that Dschinns are a real thing that live amongst us. The first memory I have is that my mom locked me up in our then living room in Mainz Germany. I remember seeing grey. Our living room was quite gloomy. Me, my mom and my father we lived in a two bedroom apartment. Back then my father had lost almost his entire money. In the 1990s my parents had moved from Dhaka Bangladesh to Germany. My father was one of the wealthiest men in Bangladesh. He had five sowing factories. My father was born in Pakistan. He claimed he fought in the war in 1971 but I know that my father is a pathological liar. I do not know if this is the truth or if he told us this story so he would get the honour from the Bangladshi state to keep his real estate. Nevertheless my father who was 20 years older than my mother married her when she was only 23 years old. They barely knew each other. My mothers parents had forced her to marry my father without knowing that he’d be the worse man that has ever existed. How could send such a young and naive women into the arms of a complete lunatic? And how could someone be so naiv and dumb to trust their family this blindly? This is your own fault! I cannot feel any empathy with these kinds of people. I feel like its their own fault. WHO THE FUCK TRUSTS THEIR FAMILY THIS BADLY!!!!They still got married due to my mother’s dumbness. I do not believe in unconditional love. No one truly wants the best for someone. Although your spouse might tell ypu that they can’t live without you and that they’d rather die than live without you t guess what.. if you would die who would decide to lay next to you forever. NOBODY. This is still no sin. This is who we humans are. This is our nature. There is nothing wrong with that. I still know that when someone tells you they would do anything for you they are most definitely lying. No one truly loves me. I know that. But that is ok. Love is overrated. I grew up in a selfish household. My lunatic father scares me to this day. I have nightmares of his voice. Whenever I hear it I feel like someone is going to shove a knife down my throat or stab me infront of everyone. I can’t help it. I constantly feel like I am suffocating. My father is my worst nightmare and he is the reason that I feel like I am never going to be happy because I cannot trust anybody.

The worst day of my life was the day my cousin abused me. He used to my mother’s favourite nephew. When she had just married my father they moved into their luxury apartment in Dhaka. My cousin who was poor then had always wanted to see such an apartment from the inside. That day my mother brought him into my fathers apartment. When he saw his face my father demanded my mother to bring him back where he came from and threw him out of his apartment. My mother’s brother brought him back to his mother in another city overnight. This nephew was the reason of the shattering of my inner happiness. When I was 12 years old my mom my sister and I went to Bangladesh. I knew he was my mother favourite nephew and he was the funniest cousin. When I was in Bangladesh I wanted to chill with him. I thought he was funny and had the same humour as I but boy was I wrong. In the past he had always fat shamed me which had hurt me a lot. I was always sensitive to this topic. He didn’t care. Since then I should have learned my lesson. One day I watched the twilight movie and he came into the room. I will NEVER forget this horrible day. It has scarred me to this day. He sat next to me and started kissing my neck. I pushed him away but he wouldn’t stop then he kissed me on my lips and in that exact moment I knew I had been broken. It was too late. He my own cousin the young boy my father had kicked out of his apartment kissed me. I felt like taking my own life. It didn’t stop. I felt the worst ever. I didn’t tell ANYONE. He was 18 and I was 12. 12 FUCKING YEARS OLD. How someone do this to me. The housekeeper kept on telling me I was a bad girl and I was the one who was teasing him. She had obviously seen something. She blamed me not him as usual in the Bengali culture. It was always the girls fault. At that point my father was rich again. I still have the option to tell my father but I have not to this day. Every time I see him I shatter. I have since then not touched a boy. I am 18 years old and still scarred by this incidence. I have told only my best friends. Some have understood other not so much. They claimed that this all happened 6 years ago why should it still hurt? I can’t explain it. I have even told my mother but she does not trust me. Typical Bengali women always blame it on the girl. This time it is her own daughter. I fear men to this day and hate all Bengali men. They disgust me. I fear I will never trust any man. I do not believe I will ever love.

Author

WYR

WYR

When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.

Related