Y’all wanna know how fucking obsessed I am with this au? I’ve already figured out the series title and the titles of the season 1/season 2 take and season 4
Series title: How Could Hell be Any Worse?
Season 1 & 2: Gonna Swallow You Whole
Season 4: Fuck Armageddon...This is Hell
I’ll come up with a title for season 3 at some point but yeah...I’m fucking stoked
(Fun fact: all the titles come from Bad Religion albums/songs. I’m not sorry)
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I think the worst part about remembering is that at this point, nobody is off-limits. i was constantly surrounded by people who were abusing me/letting it happen when with my father. in the first few years of trafficking me, we lived in a tiny apartment that barely fit two people, let alone four. my little brother & i slept on a mattress on the floor while our father & his girlfriend slept in the bed. half the time we didn't even get sufficient covers or pillows. and his girlfriend didn't even seem to think anything of it. never tried to help us/provide bedding, never offered to turn the heater on for us, nothing.
we were in such close quarters that I don't know how she WOULDN'T have noticed something was wrong, but. that's the same woman that knew I was sick and had a borderline dangerously high fever, but still drove me to goodwill so she could try on clothes - I was literally sitting on the floor of the dressing room with my head leaned against the wall, fighting to stay conscious. we were just down the street from where my mom lived and she knew I was sick, but she didn't seem to care. neither of them did. my mom was FURIOUS when I got home and she took my temperature. all she had to do was look at me to know I was really sick, and she was pissed at my father & stepmother for knowingly disregarding that. my mom & her side of the family are the only reason parts of my childhood were good. they care about & love me so much, and I'm so grateful for that.
but.
I'm scared because I think my stepmother's brother did something to me too, but I can't fully remember what, and I don't know that I'll ever have all the pieces to put that one together. I'm scared because my uncle (father's half-brother) always scared the shit out of me and I can think of only one reason as to why that could be, because he was never physically abusive - he could yell, but he never raised a hand to me or his two daughters.
we lived with him for a while, on two different occasions. I was terrified of him. I didn't feel safe if his wife (my aunt) wasn't around. I don't remember enough to know for sure though, which is the only thing keeping me from losing it tbh. that bedroom down the hall in that trailer was the first place my father raped me. they might've even been home at the time, my cousins & their parents. I just - how could that stuff happen so closely around other people and NOBODY noticed? it makes my chest hurt. how did nobody think anything was just a little bit off? I'd scream & cry every time it was my father's weekend because I knew what was coming, but no one else did, and I was too scared to tell them.
it's hard not to feel a little bit bitter about that. it's even worse to have to seriously consider the idea that yet another family member was abusing me around the same time. and if my uncle really did do something to me, that terrifies me. my cousins are both girls. their mom lived with them for a while, but at some point she seemingly got fed up (she wanted to live a very different life) and walked out, which left my cousins alone with him.
I can only pray that the only man that did anything to me was my almost stepmother's brother (the woman we lived with in the apartment; she & my father broke up eventually) and not my uncle too. I highly doubt he'd only abuse me and not his daughters in that case, and that scares the shit out of me. what I learned in those eight years my father abused me is that no one - and nowhere - was safe. sometimes the men would pay my father in drugs, which I now know they probably did together because she developed a nasty addiction while she was with him - I'd seen him do hard drugs pretty often, and she did them too. I wonder if she knew where they came from. I can only hope she didn't bother to ask, but I doubt he would've told her if she didn't already know.
she didn't protect me. she didn't ever try to get between my father and I, even though she'd witness him screaming at me & sometimes hitting me. I was eight fucking years old. I still remember the time I innocently tried to help with my brother when he said a cuss word & getting smacked by our father because I "was not the parent." I sure fucking felt like I was. even my brother's own mother didn't take care of him the way she should've, and even if she does now, that's not something I can just forget.
I don't know. I really hope it's just my brain being paranoid, but I can't know for sure right now. I want to be able to say my uncle only intimidated me with words/yelling frequently, but I don't know. I don't know. and I hate that. I hate that the memories come back with no real consistency, and that I might not even be done recovering them. I want it to be over but I get the feeling it isn't, yet. I don't know if it ever will be.
I just hope I'm wrong, because that would make things so much worse. the one place I felt safe/like I could get away from everything was the same place I was raped for the first time, and in that case maybe it was never truly safe. maybe I'm an idiot for thinking anywhere with my father was safe.
at this point, all I can do is hope he didn't hurt me, but I can't even be sure he didn't.
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