I will start by saying: these posts about my childhood trauma I’m telling you guys; are a heavy topic. Sensitive people and minors are advice to not read this. The content contains rape, violence, mental abuse, physical abuse, and death. Sociopaths, psychopaths and a lot of narcissism.
I write it here to sort out my flashbacks and memories.
But also, to leave something for investigation, in case something bad happens to me. I have survived a lot and it would be a shame to get this far and not be able to tell my story, just in time.
This is in Sweden.
Sex grooming Fatima
I will tell you this story from two aspects. First from the facts and feelings from my childhood and second through the eyes, of me now, as a grown-up.
I can’t speak for Fatima as you understand. But I will take the freedom to explain what I heard and saw back then. And interpret it through what I consider to be healthy or not.
He did things to her thinking no one saw it. As the manipulator and abuser, he is. She couldn’t trust him one second leaving her side. If he got out of her sight became worse or came back as someone else. Constant surprise – his version of “peek a boo”. I told her he was just changing clothes. She told me she knew in a bitter tone. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to pretend and play along with him, in his game. We had grown apart a lot by now.
Fatima wasn’t any longer a baby. It was her against the world. She felt more grown up and mature. She took her responsibilities with the harshness life had thrown at her. This was all life had to offer her and don’t anyone dare to believe she was stupid.
He made her believe she was crazy for being afraid all the time. He would and could never leave her. She was his everything. Why is she misbehaving and distrustful? Then blamed her for making him go crazy because she was a clingy bitch. Then as a band-aid, he turned around saying he was crazy for her. She was 100% his everything.
In the car, we would take road trips to nowhere basically. And when she needed to go pee, he’d pull aside, let her get off. As she was peeing he just drove off with the rest of us. And just casually came back much later! She used to cry. Then she got used to it and stopped, instead she started enjoying where she was and started playing again. I hadn’t seen her play in a long time and was glad she had become normal again. He, on the other hand, couldn’t stand seeing his grown girl play like a baby. That’s not what queens do. Cool down with a cold beer.
Later they took trips alone. My dad would stack beers in the trunk. And drive drunk. That summer all he did was cool down with a cold beer. And rape!
She used to ask me what she was living for
He started taking her out and she really enjoyed going from the constantly dark room to a sunny outside. Take a road trip. We were born on the beach. (Actually a cave near the beach.) She loved to go to the beach.
He made her a leader and an example for other kids to look up to. She had become fearless. The police were her father. She just wanted to chill and be comfortable. But she never got any rest. She had to pay in other was when she got “contagious”.
Fatima was so upset. She used to ask me why we had to put up with this. She wanted to get out of this hell that was installed on a pedestal. She started asking me why she was alive. They would compare her to everyone, but she still was never enough to my parents.
(They brought me Tess in her place, MKD’s daughter… I heard God’s voice in me saying she thinks you are Fatima. And she started hitting me.)
Thank you for reading through!