Wolves in Pigs Clothing


“That’s a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action…”  “He will never be his happy go lucky self with that easy going personality and welcoming smile”.  Those are some of the insulting words uttered by the father of Brock Turner.   His son received six months imprisonment and probation for sexually assaulting an unconscious woman.

Sadly, there isn’t much in the news that shocks me anymore, but this story sucker punched me to my inner core.

If Mr. Turner’s logic is true – then what price should someone pay for seven years of action with a conscious person?  Seven years!  In that amount of time I could’ve completed high school and almost earned a college degree.

His words show that he has probably not lost one night of sleep for the victim – nor thinks much of her at all.  In 20 minutes it was all over for his son, but it will never be over for her.

One of my abusers once said to me  “I don’t know why I did it – everyone was doing it”.  That was a slap in the face and not an apology.

My horrific story begins at the age of five.  I was in kindergarten and the world was becoming bigger.  As a child you learn the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears,  Jack and the Beanstalk, and the Three Little Pigs.  It was a time when my love for books was ignited, and that flame has grown stronger as the years have passed.

In my life there were 4 big, bad wolves.  The problem is they looked like the three little pigs, that were hiding inside the house with me.  My abusers were: an uncle, an aunt, step grandfather and a cousin.

How was I singled out?  Or do they just try to do what they want with anyone and everyone?  What happens in the mind of a pedophile that drives the to desire to do these things to children?  I really don’t want to know – it’s just impossible for me to understand. I’ve since learned that molesters groom their victims, so they will earn their trust.  If I like the special attention did I like what happened?  This added a whole other level of shame and disgust I felt for myself for many years.

In school I was learning how to read, and write and express myself through art.  I loved it. My happiness ended everyday at 3pm when the school bell rang and it was time to go home…











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