4 years old.
We were having a family party in my backyard. I fell asleep. I woke up confused. My bed was by a door that led to the backyard in my parents room, you can only open the door through the inside so I was safe. Even through the door, I could hear everything that was happening outside.
“Where’s ‘Aria’?”, asked my grandma.
“Asleep”, answered my mom.
“Are you sure? He’s inside.”
“She’s okay.”
This conversation I remember perfectly at the age of 4. Thats when it clicked what situation I was in. Mind was hazy, the indent in my hair from where I had fallen asleep, marks on my cheek from my pillow. He was only the age of 12 when it happened. My mom witnessed multiple occasions of something going on, but never saw something actually happen.
No details, I’ve managed to bury every memory of it away, to never dig up again. It does not change the circumstances.
I can’t remember the exact question, but my answer was yes. She and my dad, took me to talk to him. He could not molest me anymore.
I was very little. Helpless.
From then on, we were watched like hawks. He could never babysit. If we were in the kitchen alone, they’d ask me questions. Since I was the youngest, I was more protected than the others.
I cannot remember the moments anymore. But I blame myself. I couldn’t control anything, how could it possibly be my fault. I think it did change our relationship from then on. I never had that relationship I wish we could’ve, but I do love him.
My brother.
This was only the beginning where I was nothing other than a body to boys. But at 4 years old, how could I know the world could only get uglier…
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