Darkina describes the situation that lead to her molestation at 8 years old.
I was 8 years old. My mother was in a relationship with a guy that was physically and mentally abusive to her. He used to beat her up all the time. I wondered, “When I get out of school one day are you going to be dead?” She told me to get away from her. She didn’t want to hear it. I had an old-fashioned mom.
And, one day I came from school and her eyes were swollen and he had beaten her and she was already in the room I think for a couple of days, but we didn’t know why she was in the room and I just walked up in there anyways and I had seen, because we had a dance, me and my sister had a dance concert and we wanted to be there.
So after that, I went to him and asked him, I said, “Can I talk to you?” 8 years old, and he said, “Yeah, you can talk to me,” and as I talked to him, I said, “Can you do me a favor?” He said, “Yeah.” I said, “Can you please stop hitting on my mom?” I said, “I am tired of you hitting on my mom,” and he said, “Yeah, if you let me see that thing,” and I said, “What thing?”
My counselors taught me; well, at that point what I learned in treatment was at that point I began to ruin my family. I controlled my family from that point. At that point I was willing to do whatever for my family at the age of 8 years old. I just learned about this here, a year ago in treatment, and I allowed him to do whatever he wanted to do as long as he did not put his hands on my mother, and he didn’t put his hands on my mother.
After about a year or so I got tired and I told my other sister, which was a little older to me, “We are out of here, let’s go. We are gone.” She said, “Where we are going?” I told her, “Don’t worry about it. We are leaving.” We left and went to stay with my other sister, my older, stayed there for a little bit, got up, left again and went and moved in with my father.
Probably at the age of maybe 10 I went and stayed with my father from that point on. Again, I could not tell my father. I couldn’t lose my father because he would have killed him, and I know he would have.
My mother got very ill when I was a freshman in the high school. She was on her deathbed. She suffered. I couldn’t do anything for her. I hated her. I didn’t understand. I didn’t like her. I ate cereal. He ate steaks, but after she was gone a light came on and I wondered why my mother treated me different? Why did my mother do the things that she did?
So I went back a lot of times in the family tree and figure it out. My mother raised me based on what she knew how. My mother didn’t tell me she loved me because she didn’t know how to tell me she loved me. It was never told to her. I found out my mother raised all her sisters and brothers and she just did what she knew how. But it was too late, she was gone. All I can do is go to god and ask god to forgive me for the hurt and the pain and just keep right on going.