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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 05/02/2014
The Story Of My Demon
Born 1999, F, from Taranaki, New ZealandI was only five years old. My parents both worked an ordinary day’s shift, sometimes even longer. They had me in a day care of some close friends of theirs, along with 20 or more other girls and boys. What I remember is that day care was reasonably big. Cots were spread out against the walls in a letter “L” shape. And a play room right next to it, with this pit full of colorful balls and a small TV.
One day, we went to visit them. My best friend was there as well. I had known him since birth. We are only ten days apart. Me being the oldest, my birthday on the first of December and his on the tenth of December. I was sitting on top of my parent’s friend’s sons lap. This boy’s name was Blyvv. He was thirteen turning fourteen soon. We were on one end of the room and my best friend on the other. We were watching the Flintstones. As a child, I loved that program. I would never miss it.
I remember my surrounding only slightly. The living room was decorated with antique furniture, with carpets all flowery and red. Their TV was old and didn’t work as well as the one at home. Everything was as it would be normally. All of the sudden, Blyvv started to touch me in a way that I have never been touched before. He started playing with my shirt, trying to lift it. I told him straight “no Blyvv, NO!” he didn’t stop though. Without me even realizing… his hand was down the back side of my skirt. He started touching my “momfee”(vagina) as I was to call it. I told him again “No Blyvv No!” That night brought me to realize… you can’t trust anyone. And from that night on… everything changed.
My mum showered me that night and noticed I felt very uncomfortable. She asked me “what’s wrong ounooi?” I answered “mumma, my momfee is sore” she had a look and noticed it was full of rashes and was very tender. She asked me what happened. “Blyvv did it mummy” this made my mum’s eyes widen. It seemed as though her pupils became smaller… I knew she was angry. She continued showering me and dried me off.
From there, everything seems to be a fainted mystery. All I can now remember is dreams. Dreams that have haunted me for the past ten years. It soon turned into a depression I have fought for the past two to three years, all along he was the reason. Only recently have I learnt the full story. He was sent to a “special” school for about ten years. I was told he learnt it all from his father. I must say though… how could they put the mother through that. I understood everything but one thing keeps hitting me with a wonder I must know. I kept asking myself, feeling completely guilty. Why? Why would they keep it from me for all these years? Mum says it was only to protect me but yet it could have helped me. Yes I would cry for a few nights because it would have brought memories back but I wouldn’t have had to suffer from something that was a monster to me in my room every night in a figure of an alarm with a red light flashing every five seconds. All along it was nothing but a sick boy that learnt his ways from his sick father who molested the boy Goodness only knows how often. Now that I know the truth, I have learnt something. Demons truly do come in all shapes. Including in living humans.
The Story Of My Demon(Clerize Fouche)
I was only five years old. My parents both worked an ordinary day’s shift, sometimes even longer. They had me in a day care of some close friends of theirs, along with 20 or more other girls and boys. What I remember is that day care was reasonably big. Cots were spread out against the walls in a letter “L” shape. And a play room right next to it, with this pit full of colorful balls and a small TV.
One day, we went to visit them. My best friend was there as well. I had known him since birth. We are only ten days apart. Me being the oldest, my birthday on the first of December and his on the tenth of December. I was sitting on top of my parent’s friend’s sons lap. This boy’s name was Blyvv. He was thirteen turning fourteen soon. We were on one end of the room and my best friend on the other. We were watching the Flintstones. As a child, I loved that program. I would never miss it.
I remember my surrounding only slightly. The living room was decorated with antique furniture, with carpets all flowery and red. Their TV was old and didn’t work as well as the one at home. Everything was as it would be normally. All of the sudden, Blyvv started to touch me in a way that I have never been touched before. He started playing with my shirt, trying to lift it. I told him straight “no Blyvv, NO!” he didn’t stop though. Without me even realizing… his hand was down the back side of my skirt. He started touching my “momfee”(vagina) as I was to call it. I told him again “No Blyvv No!” That night brought me to realize… you can’t trust anyone. And from that night on… everything changed.
My mum showered me that night and noticed I felt very uncomfortable. She asked me “what’s wrong ounooi?” I answered “mumma, my momfee is sore” she had a look and noticed it was full of rashes and was very tender. She asked me what happened. “Blyvv did it mummy” this made my mum’s eyes widen. It seemed as though her pupils became smaller… I knew she was angry. She continued showering me and dried me off.
From there, everything seems to be a fainted mystery. All I can now remember is dreams. Dreams that have haunted me for the past ten years. It soon turned into a depression I have fought for the past two to three years, all along he was the reason. Only recently have I learnt the full story. He was sent to a “special” school for about ten years. I was told he learnt it all from his father. I must say though… how could they put the mother through that. I understood everything but one thing keeps hitting me with a wonder I must know. I kept asking myself, feeling completely guilty. Why? Why would they keep it from me for all these years? Mum says it was only to protect me but yet it could have helped me. Yes I would cry for a few nights because it would have brought memories back but I wouldn’t have had to suffer from something that was a monster to me in my room every night in a figure of an alarm with a red light flashing every five seconds. All along it was nothing but a sick boy that learnt his ways from his sick father who molested the boy Goodness only knows how often. Now that I know the truth, I have learnt something. Demons truly do come in all shapes. Including in living humans.
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