I was taught by societal expectations that brothers are suppose to protect their little sisters.

I was taught to trust my brothers and to know that they would do anything to protect me.

My family was never normal though, so believing this made me look like an idiot.

I am the only daughter in a family with many boys.

I was so naive and stupid to believe the lies.

It's crazy that my brother who wasn't even around a lot is the one I trust the most.

I was five the first time anything ****** happened.

I had absolutely no clue what was happening and why I was being manipulated into doing.

And even crazier, the  predator was only about 7.

What!

I still to this day haven't told a soul about that night, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

I let it slip out of my mind thinking that it was normal.

From then, he made me do things for him and watch stuff with him that I didn't want to watch.

Everyday, I thought about him hurting me more.

I was 11 the next time.

I had a little more knowledge of what he was doing, but I was still intimidated by everything.

I knew though, that it actually wasn't normal and really should not have been something I had to go through.

I was home alone with him, and I just wanted to be in my room alone.

He was around 13 years old.

That was the first time he had threatened me with the "I'll tell mom" card.

I learned to not even think about telling my parents about what happened.

Thankfully he stopped messing with me for a while because I had moved in with my grandma.

Thank God that she let me.

I ended up getting taken away from my parents, living in an emergency shelter, living in a children's home, losing my dad, and getting moved in with a potential adoptive family before he hurt me again.

I was 15 when he sexually assaulted me in my adoptive family's home.

He had gotten kicked out of placements and came to visit to see if he could be adopted with us.

I didn't say anything because I knew that no one would believe me.

I ended up telling my adoptive parents because I was in so much physical pain.

They claimed that they believed me, but I knew they didn't.

They put all these restrictions on me after he had left and an investigation started.

I was questioned more that I thought I would need to be and I had two of the police investigators tell me that I made it all up.

I felt like I was just a burden to everyone at that point and no one knew all the details.

I wasn't given the chance to tell my story.

Years later, my whole family came up with reasons to justify what he did to me.

They said that he just wanted me to be prepared.

My brother that assaulted me wasn't the only one that was messed up.

My twin brother played a big part in everything too.

He knew that my attacker was going to do what he did to me.

Not only did he know, he told me he wanted to watch.

To this day, almost 5 years later, I have never been able to look at either of them the same way.

My mother still doesn't believe me, but she stopped caring about me years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear mom,

I believed you. Why couldn't you believe me?

Dear R,

What did I do to you for you to take advantage of my body? Why did you hate me so much that you could do that?

Dear C,

Why did you want to see him hurt me? Why weren't you supportive?

Dears R & C,

Why didn't y'all protect y'alls little sister? I'm the only one you have!

Dear Me,

None of that was your fault! You didn't do anything wrong! Don't ever be afraid to ask for help when you are in danger. I'm here for you!

Love yourself!

I am not afraid of the dark.
May be because there might be a supernatural power sealing me by its protection.

When I was a girl
my mother trained me to be docile.
"If you ignore them, they will move on" she would say,
brushing the comb through my hair as I whined at every knot she pulled.
I learned to shrink,
to be an unworthy target left less blood in my mouth.
I learned to hide,
if they could not see me there would be no meat for them to pull from my bones.
I learned to be afraid,
because fear is the instinct that has left us alive.

When I was 15,
they told me I was strong
as my spine curved
to keep my head below the water
and the sun off my face,
but the more child-like my disposition
the more they wanted to hear me scream.

Now I am a woman
who pulls her hair into buns because they are harder to grab
and I no longer whine as I pull through the knots
but my eyes still water at the sting.
I have been labeled a *****
rude
bossy
annoying
but I would rather be a ***** than dead.

I used to think shrinking would make me undesirable
but being small did not stop them from devouring me.
So I have grown fangs through this smile,
made myself too big to consume
if they want to eat me
they will have to eat me as I am,
with all my sharpened edges and tough skin.
I am the woman who has grown fangs
and I will not make myself small and easily digestible for anyone anymore.
You may consume me,
but you will bleed for it.

Her rib cage splayed
and knees felled away
from each other,
she lay as a refuge,
an invitation:

Climb in, stretch my skin
over yours—
it's warm and dark inside,
you need not come out
until you are ready.