Why I Am Who I Am (The Beginning)

The real reason I am who I am and why. (chapter 1)

         Please know that I am not writing this for comments of pity and apologies or anything such as this. I am writing this piece to release it from my heart and head and hopefully gain some self esteem and comfort in myself in order to change the things about myself that have been effected by this traggic story. I also want others out there to know if they have ever been treated any where close to what happened in my life, that they are not alone. I hope that maybe they can find strength in themselves to deal with their past and hopefully get in control of it as I am trying to do. As well I want people who find me shut off and some what guarded to know the reasons and understand why it is I am what and who I am.



         I can remember exactly what she looked like, as if she was standing here in front of me right now. My very first best friend at age eight. To me, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. She was a mirrored image of her mother, my mother's best friend.

         Her curly red hair was the shade of a delicious apple and her matching freckles, which covered her whole body, mezmorized me. Her skin was silky white, the whitest I had ever seen. If you held a brand new cotton white towel up next to her, she was still brighter. I could never stop staring at her. I can not remember her name though. I can only picture her standing there in my front yard wearing her tank tops. She loved showing off her freckled skin, no matter what the weather was like.

         I was eight, my sister nine and our best friend was between me and my sister's age. A few months older than me and a few younger than my sister. We fought over her like cats and dogs. I was a tom boy true at heart. My sister was the miss priss in the family. Although she had her boyish moments, she prefered fancy dresses, make up and carrying a purse everywhere. Our friend was one who could be happy either way. She was an only child, so learned to play along with any suggestions either of us had for playing.

         I remember our favorite thing to do all together. We would build a fort by the road under a tree. We lived in a trailer park so there were no fences to hold us in and ample space for a fort was hard to find. We would sit in that fort and do everything together. Coloring in our books, reading, play house, make up our own games and rules, and my favorite, play war! We would tear the fort down each time so we could build it again the next time she came over.

         My mother didn't like to drive, even though if she did, we didn't have access to a vehicle anyway. My father used the only car we had to get to and from work and being in the military, he was at work most of the morning and never got home before five. So the only time we saw our friend was when her mother would come to visit mine.

         Then one day my friend's mother came over begging my mom to come to her house. She really needed some help delivering some things to neighbors that lived around her cul-de-sac. My mom agreed to go, happy to get out of the house for a change. She left my dad a note letting him know where we would be and what time we would get home, hopefully.

         It's a day I've never forgotten, even after fifteen years. That day began the changes in my life who made me who I am today. Untrusting, shy, withdrawn, an anxiety disorder, but the best aspect, a writer. I would gladly give up on being a writer if that day had never happened.

         We were all excited to see how our friends lived. They had a beautiful home, not too far from us, but in a newer part of town. To me, at age eight, it was like stepping into a mansion. I had only lived in small older houses and trailers before, never seeing a newly built house. The space was huge and open. It was only a two bedroom, maybe three, I can't really remember that part. The hallway was wide enough for three people to walk through arm in arm. The kitchen and dinning rooms were large enough to be two bedrooms each, plus. The living room was the smallest room in the house, besides the bathroom, which was large enough in it's own, holding a shower, double sinks, toilet, and a seperate massive bath tub. There was also a den which was used mainly for show. No one spent much time in that room. They lived in the very middle of the cul-de-sac, which gave them the largest fenced in back yard. I liked the front yard better though. The huge tree in front provided ample shade on a hot day and that is where they had the softest grass. They were rich in my eight year old opinion.

         The day had started off great. We played in the front yard on a slip and slide, as it was summer and the heat unbearable. We had a cookout with hotdogs, ribs, and hamburgers as well as all the side fixings. They really catered to our likings.

         While my mother and her friend went off to get done what needed to be, we stayed at our friend's house with her dad. Once it started getting dark out, we went in and watched a movie, enjoying popcorn with it. After a while, we all got bored, including my friend's dad. He was ready to fall asleep. I wish now my friend hadn't woke him up and asked him if we could all play hide-and-seek. He was definately in the mood to play a game, anything but sit through another childish movie. Thus began the changes in who I am. Notice I do not say the whole reason, just the beginning. There is plenty more to this story, plenty more years and bad memories to follow, all encircling that day. The day my childhood ended and real life began.

         This is where the details of their house fit in. Playing hide-and-seek, there were lots of rooms and tiny spaces to hide in. Her dad choose to be the seeker so we could all play along, hiding in different places. We even made a base in the living room, hard to get to from almost anywhere, but that was what made it fun.

         By the time we started playing, I was surprised my mom never came back to check on us. I guessed she was enjoying her break from us, it didn't happen very often. I looked out the window a few times and could see where she was, so I didn't get worried, too much.

         I remember hiding in the kitchen once and thinking, this house is so big, it is gonna take him forever to find us, but in the beginning it didn't. It's not like we were quiet kids. We would giggle at the fact we had the best hiding place and give ourselves away. After about four turns at hiding and being caught right away, we all realized it was because of the giggling and forced ourselves to stop. Not once did we ever all hide together and never knew exactly where the others were. We only knew that her parent's bedroom was off limits, which was understandable.

         With all the available spaces we never hid in the same place twice. Once we stopped giggling it became harder for him to find us, or so I thought at the time. It started becoming real easy to get to base and seemed like we waited there forever for him to come and see if any of us were there. Two of us had always made it to base while we guessed the other was close to being found and couldn't get there. We all cried once we were caught so it was no surprise when one of us entered the living room in tears. My friend and sister had both at different times, said they didn't want to play any more, but were talked into continuing. I was having fun and loved the fact I was always able to make it to base before anyone else.

         One time, the last time, I made a plan to stay in the living room to hide. I would be the closest to base and get there before someone else. I hid behind the biggest chair in the room and waited for him to count. Oh I wanted to laugh so bad, but I never did. He finished his count and headed off down the hallway, there was my chance. I tip toed over to the stand we had proclaimed as base and was just about to yell, "Ha ha I made base again," just like I always did, when her father touched my shoulder and whispered, "Shhh" in my ear. He wanted me to help him find my sister and friend and told me he thought one of them had hid in his bedroom and wanted me to check, so whoever it was could leave and not get in trouble. I thought that was real nice of him and I definately didn't want anyone to get in trouble, we would probably have to quit playing and go home. So I went into his room and looked around, but no one was there. I went over to the closet and opened the door, that's when the bedroom door closed. I turned around and he was already standing in front of me, whispering, "I want to play another game with only you." He picked me up and laid me on the edge of his bed. I can still see him today, standing over me telling me to be very quiet or else we couldn't play anymore. I didn't want to anyway so I tried to get off the bed, but he held me down with one hand. With his other hand, he lifted my shirt up to my chin. He kept whispering to me, "I think you'll like this new game," over and over. He began to kiss and lick my bare skin from my stomach all the way up to my neck. I tried to scream but he held his hand over my mouth and kept whispering, "Shh."

         The next thing I remember is him undoing the button on my shorts and pulling them down. Then his pants fell to the floor. He was massive standing over me. I closed my eyes and cried, I actually felt no pain at the time. Then I remember the heaviness lifting off my body. I opened my eyes and he was there putting on his pants. He leaned down to me and said, "see I knew you would like it," and that is when the pain ripped through my body all at once. I knew I had to get up and dressed fast. I couldn't be caught the way I was. I had been crying but now it was full out painful sobbing. I knew better than to say anything. I joined my sister and friend in the living room. Her father came in and said he was tired of playing and wanted to lay down. He gave us permission to have a soda and snack. We all sat around the kitchen table just staring at each other. It had been obvious, we all played the same game.

         Shortly there after, my mom and her friend came back. It was really late and so my mom was ready to go home. I was definately ready as well, so was my sister. My mother told us to thank my friend's dad for taking such good care of us. We went over to him and said "Thank you," and he pulled out his wallet and handed us each a five dollar bill. "Payment," was all he said.

         My mother's friend drove us home. I remember we three just sat there staring at each other. No words were spoken until we got to our house. Our friend hugged us each and whispered, "I'm so sorry for what happened. He does it to me all the time."

         Our friendship changed that day. No, we didn't blame her, but there was always that unsettling silence that fell between us from then on. For a while she still came to our house to play and we had only been over to her house once. We stopped playing at each other's house the day after I finally told my parents what happened. That is a whole other chapter to this painful story.