Thought Catalog

22 Victims Of Sex Slavery Tell Their Disturbing Stories

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Unfortunately, sex slavery is more common than you think. These devastating stories from Ask Reddit should shed some light on the issue — and let you know you’re not alone in your pain.
Unsplash / Paul Morris

1. My step-father let strangers rape me

“My father killed my mother and himself when I was younger, I had two older brothers, but we were separated because our house was abusive. I was in a foster home until I was 6, when I was finally adopted.

At first, things seemed amazing, I had a loving family that were really looking out for me and loved me, but in the end, it was anything but that.

Growing up, the first I began to notice was that my ‘stepdad’ was VERY touchy with me, and made me feel super uncomfortable, I was about 9 when everything first started.

It began as him just taking my pictures, he would buy me underwear that a nine year old should not be wearing, he would make me do various poses, with different types of underwear. Eventually, it became nudes, I started to get boobs around 10 or so and he would constantly take pictures of me rubbing them etc, he would also massage them because he told me it would ‘help them grow.’

This happened for about a year, my ‘Stepmom’ then joined us, which made things much worse. I felt very insecure and was constantly comparing myself to her.

So this began their process of preforming sexual acts in front of me, it was like she was teaching me what to do with penis, I just remember being so jealous of her, how stupid is that?

So after this happened, they would both perform sexually acts on me, taking pictures, videos and stuff like this, really terrible stuff.

After sometime I began to “enjoy” it, I liked sex, and going through puberty only made it harder, I began to enjoy what was happening to me.

Over the next 4 years 11-15, my dad took my virginity on camera, forced anal penetration, constant degrading, and forced clit stimulation.

Now that I am older, I realized what was happening: My ‘parents’ were running an underground rig, where they would sell videos and pictures to people who paid for them over the internet.

In the chatrooms, I would be on webcam and people would pay money, and whoever paid the most, got to tell what they did to me.

There were some regulars that I will never forget:

Ex1-Hymen guy, my dad would show this guy my hymen for about 3 years, where eventually he paid enough for my dad to brutally and purposefully rip it. (the worst thing to happen to me is this, he raped me).

Ex2-There was always a guy who wanted me to urinate on myself, he also wanted me to cry. I couldnt cry on command, but I cried because of how bad it hurt to not pee for long periods of time.

There tons of things like this, but the last time, they really messed up.

I had been homeschooled by them, not like they would actually teach me things, I dont think they wanted me in public.

But, one time someone paid money to have two underage boys have their way with me, I don;t know where my parents got the guys from, but it ended up saving my life.

Both guys had their way with me, one being extremely forceful, the other very timid, after everything was done, the timid guy whispered in my ear asking for my full name, I told him.

About a week later, I am dressed up and preparing to perform when the police raid our house and take me.

The best day of my life, the police officer who was there was very upset, as I sat in the ambulance, he came up to me and asked for a hug, and I of course did it.

What he said to me “I am sorry that this has happened to you, nobody deserves this, you’re the strongest person I have ever met” while holding me tight with a hug, at this moment, it was like everything hit me and I just cried.

This happened some time ago, I am now an adult with a good job living by myself, though this has messed me up for the rest of my life, I am in therapy attempting to recover.” — throwawayonetime11

2. I was a child prostitute

“From the age of 3 to 12, I was a child prostitute and abused by my father. My father groomed me and sold me to his friends and clients. I lived a seemingly charmed life; I went to exclusive private schools, owned a horse, even went to charm school. But after school and on the weekends, when my mother thought I was at various activities or hanging out with my father; I was being sold to the highest bidder. After every ‘date’ we would go over what I did wrong and if I wanted to see him again. Dates, videos, pictures, outfits, playtime, everything was monetized. It ended when he died of a hemorrhagic stroke while I was on a ‘date.’ We were in another city, booked in a hotel, I spent the night with a client and came back to our room to find him in a puddle of his own piss. I smoked 6 cigarettes before I called 911.” — throwawaydndname

3. I was used to lure single mothers to my father

“My father abused me from about 1 year old until I was 8. He and my mum had broken up due to his anger problems and violence however he was allowed to have me on weekends and holidays. He would use me in these times to ‘lure’ single mothers and abuse their kids as well as myself. One time in particular I remember was being abused in my recently deceased uncles bed. He had me convinced for a few years that it was actually my sisters mother (who he previously tried to kill with a hammer on Christmas eve) who had abused me, and didn’t let me meet my sister until I was 17, when I’d cut contact with him. I kept all this a secret for 12 years before anyone discovered what had happened. I still suffer flashbacks and paranoia, scared I will see him as he didn’t get convicted (his mother and auntie wouldn’t help us prosecute).” — VSR-94

4. I was kidnapped as a young child

“Not sure if anyone even cares about my story but I was kidnapped when I was three and rescued when I was 15.

I was sodomized orally every day since I was three. And started being anally raped almost daily from when I was 7.

The man who kidnapped me was basically my father and even though he brutalized me I still loved him. I would also have sex with other men to make him happy. I did not know at the time that he was making money from it.

I am now 19 and I feel like my actual family are strangers. I am too depressed to function normally and attempted suicide three times now.

A part of me misses my kidnapper. Because right now, I am filled with too much shame knowing that my family is aware of the stuff I did. Living with them is unbearable. They are sick of me too I am sure. At least when I was with my kidnapper, my fucked up life was treated as normal.

I am also gay but my catholic parents blame it on the abuse. I just wasn’t meant to be happy this life I think. Hopefully it all ends soon.” — toThrowFar

5. My boyfriend took me from my home

“I was taken my my boyfriend at the time when I was twelve. He beat and vaginally raped me daily for two years. Sometimes he’d have his friends over for ‘fun’ too. I hate him and thankfully someone killed him, but sometimes I still hear his voice in the back of my head telling me I’m worthless.

To this day I still get flashbacks if my partner pushes me too far, but thankfully he’s hugely understanding and is actually the reason I can even be touched anymore (even like a simple hug, I couldn’t deal with before).” — ivory_skin

6. My stepfather rented me to get back at my mother

“My stepfather never touched me, but because he hated me, and as a way to punish my mother, he started to rent me out when I was 3.

There was many different men, and I don’t remember them all, but the first one rented me all the time, his name was Willy. My mother knew what was going on, but was to scared to do anything.

One time Wille rented me on Christmas eve when I was 5. I was dressed up, no panties and forced to sit on Willys lap, while my half sister opened her present, my mother and stepfather making smalltalk. Willy had a cigarette, he held it against my arm and told me, that the more fuss and crying I made while he burned me, the harder he would punish me later. I still have the scare. That night he penetrated me anal, while choking me till I paced out.

My half sister was told, that what happened to me was okay, since I was such a bad child. She was the golden child, and I was just a thing.

Some of them got of on pain, the more I screamed and cried, the more pleasure they got. I have scares all over my body, I have had all of my fingers and toes broken. They would force me to drink their piss, hitting me with their belts till I bleed. Hitting and demeaning me, until I just lay still, not reacting to the abuse, covered in blood, urine and seamen. They only stopped when they knew that they had broken me.

Other was almost kind, they gave me candy, told me that they loved me. That thy only wanted to give me pleasure. They would praise me, when I pleasured them “the right way”, cuddling me while they penetrated me, telling me to stop crying, and just enjoy it. Makinf me thank they, when thay were done with me.

It stopped when I went in to puberty at 11.

To all of you that have experienced something like me: you can get better, you can get a good, normal life, the dreams will go away some day, the flashbacks disappear. I know that because I live that kind of life now.

It takes time, it takes oceans of tears, it hurts, it’s so, so confusing learning to live in the “normal” world, learning their “normal” rules, not falling back to the ways we were forces to live by our abusers.

You can do it, because you are stronger than you know. You have lived in hell and survived demons and devils. Forgive yourself, it was never your fault, any of it, no matter what they told you, no matter what they made you do.

Remember that they were the ones that should have protected you, you were just a child. Children do what they are told, they believe what they are told. Your mental and physical reactions were something that was groomed into you. You had no choice, but to do what you did.

Find someone that can help you. Talk to a therapist. Show them that you a a fighter. Know that they were wrong. Know that they are the monsters.

You are a strong and beautiful human, you are miles above your abuser.

I believe in you, I’m proud of you. You are a hero.” — Stuebirken

7. My parents were arrested for child porn

“I grew up in Alaska. There is a large AF base there and our family became close friends with an AF family. My (grandmother raised me I call her Mom) Mom was and RN as was the wife and that’s how we met. They had so many kids: I believe 7 children in all. They were a large enough family that the AF put them into 2 homes on base and modified a door between the houses to connect. So like a duplex that had a connecting internal door. As a kid I thought this was so cool. Two kitchens living rooms etc…and the “Kids” side had Atari, games, and radio. There were 2 rooms in that side locked and were a “no fly zone” per the dad. The kid fridge had an unbelievable stash of ice cream sandwiches.

We would hang with them often. Skiing, camping, fishing, and general family stuff.

So my Mom came home from work one day and all the sudden I was being grilled about my times over there and the spend the nights. Was I ever uncomfortable? Did the father or brothers ever upset me? Where did I change into my pajamas? Did the girls ever say anything or tell me anything? I was like 7 or 8 so I was confused.

The parents had been arrested by the AF version of the FBI (not sure what agency) for child porn and prostitution. They had set up hidden camera recorders (Beta tapes) in each of the main kids rooms.

It was all over the news and I was shaken to the core. The kids, all of them my friends, were being raped? By their mother and father? And strangers? It was horrible. This happened in around 1984 and I still wonder what ever happened to the kids. For a long time we had the news paper with the story.” — ECU_BSN

8. My father would put on porn for us to watch together

“I wasn’t allowed to lock my door. And apparently my dad used to wake me and my sister up in the middle of the night to ‘watch tv’ which was probably just porn to be honest. I’m not a very light sleeper. And my sister can only sleep with white noise or dead quiet. Sometimes I turn on the nightlight in my room. some of the best sleep in my life has been in crowded rooms during daylight hours. It just felt so safe.” — nettlesome-fiend

9. He was sexually tormented for years by a group of grown men

“There was a story on reddit a few days ago about a little boy that was sexually tortured and abused by a group of grown men for years and years. These men passed him around a circle watching each other torture this child for sexual gratification over and over. No one can tell me that this little boy was ok in the world or school all those years and there weren’t signs of something being seriously wrong. People need to get engaged again. Start looking for the signs and reach out to these children if they suspect something. Everyone is so afraid of interfering and it not being their business, it is our business if babies are being raped.

We need to start demanding way harsher penalties for these kinds of abuses, so many children on this thread said their abusers were let off with no punishment. That’s insane. You are right, chemical castration needs to be discussed. Seriously.

Starting to demand stricter regulations around the porn industry is way way overdue,. Why are we not protecting these young people from the predators in that industry that are feeding this beast? How is it ok for an 18 yr old girl to make the decision to be a “porn star”, have no idea what that means and then end up choking and licking her own vomit off some old mans dick on camera. Do you really think she ‘chose’ that path? I know when I was an 18 year old girl the thought of choking on an old mans dick was certainly never something that turned me on.

It’s heartbreaking that young people are sexually coming of age with this shit and no one is teaching or explaining or protecting them from it in any way. Why is this stuff not even being talked about in schools yet all the kids are watching it?

People don’t want to talk about these things, start talking. Right here we are talking and people are reading it. Maybe it will spread. Pedophilia exists because there are dark shadows of shame for it to hide behind. People are ashamed to stick their necks out and expose this. We should he screaming from the roof tops. Put out more ideas, what do people think can be done? Because doing nothing is no longer an option.” — abicus4343

10. He raped his granddaughter and filmed it

“I raided a house of a rapist/pedophile a few years back, in my early days of swat. I’ve told this story before, but the guy was raping his granddaughter and filming it. He would show her other child porn and tell her that’s what grand daughters did for their grandpa.

The girl ended up making friends with a girl at school who was the victim of it. She told her about what her grandpa does and the little girl told her mom. The rest is history. I’ll never forget breaking the grandpas door down in the basement. He had this shitty little room made, locked, but a garbage hollow core door. He had so many hard drives and cameras, and a box full of sex toys he would use on her.

He’s in prison now. I never met the little girl. I only executed the search warrant and arrested the guy. But I’m glad you were rescued from that situation. That case will stay with me forever.” — Zending

11. My own grandfather molested me

“My grandfather sexually molested me starting at the age of three. My first boyfriend raped me when I was 12, and he and his stepdad got me started on hard drugs, and I ended up doing some things with some men in order to get my fix when the boyfriend and I split up. I ended up getting sent to a special boarding school when I was 15, and getting physically away from that situation allowed me to get/stay clean for a while.

I was so fucked up psychologically that I was expelled the first year I was there, ended up in a homeschool/tutor situation. They took me back to the school a year later and I was expelled that year, too. Graduated second in my class in public school, clean, sober, and no longer self-harming.

The end of my senior year, I got in contact online with this kind-of friend from the boarding school. Looking back, he had been grooming me for a while even then, but he gave me what I’d learned to expect from men, and the attention, the specific attention towards my body as something desirable and needed and coveted, did what it was supposed to. Even though I wasn’t attracted to him, knowing he was to me was enough to make me hook up with him. He told me to go to college near where he was, so it’s the only school I applied to. I did what he said because I was used to having to do what men said, I guess. I don’t know.

Things got bad quick up at school. 6 weeks after school started he held me hostage, beat me, forced me into a special outfit he’d bought to make me look like his “slave,” and tied me to a bed and physically and sexually tortured me while explaining and making me repeat the new “rules.” When I screamed after he’d told me to stop, he raped me with a screwdriver. When he was done, he got on his computer to play World of Warcraft, and left me tied there. I ended up spending that night naked on the floor, bound hand & foot, with a dog collar and steel chain around my neck.

I don’t really want to go into the rest of that year. I spent almost every night sleeping on a floor with a collar around my neck and a leash in his hands. There were certain clothes I was only allowed to wear, certain make-up patterns, certain words to say and certain times to say them. There were certain postures, and certain ways of sitting or kneeling so he always had access to the only parts of me he’d ever cared about. There was a schedule to adhere to as far as grooming my own body. I washed his body in the shower, always ending with a blowjob. He raped me every night, and most of the time more often than that. When I didn’t play his happy slave well enough, he’d get more violent, and more than once whispered in my ear a warning that I wasn’t acting as if I wanted it well enough. When it was clear he could trust me outside his apartment, because I was too afraid to even think about trying to look for help somewhere (and I am still, eleven years later, deeply ashamed for how easy it was for me to become complacent to this new life), he would mark me, physically, with multiple hickeys every day so no one would possibly forget–including myself–that my body belonged to him. I was always to be waiting for him after he got out of work (he worked in the school cafe) so there were multiple classes I simply wasn’t allowed to go to. But most important to him were The Rules. The things he’d forced me to learn that first night, that over a decade later come unbidden into my head multiple times a day:

I am my Master’s whore and slut and slave. My purpose is to serve and pleasure my Master and I do so willingly. My body is my Master’s to do with as he will and I joyously serve him.

If I ever dared break any of these rules, or fought back, or looked at him wrong, or he was just in a bad mood, I faced corporal punishment that ALWAYS ended up turning him on. I learned not to do anything that led to punishment, because the rapes after were more violent and forceful than the usual ones, and always ended in internal damage to my body.

No one saved me. No one knew. No one paid attention, not even his flatmates or the other people who lived in the old house that had been converted to apartments. I know they heard my screams and cries, because I could hear them, too. No one ever tried to help, and within days of that first night, I stopped even looking for it. But June of my freshman year, he got put on academic probation. Too much time spent enacting his fantasy of creating the perfect whore. He ended up losing the financial aid that supplemented his income enough to keep him in his apartment, and had to move back in with his family. He couldn’t take me with him, but he thought he had broken me enough that he could keep me under his control by long-distance. He was, at that point, wrong. By that November (13 months after that first night), I was talking to the cops.

I’d like to say that was the end of it. It wasn’t. That was eleven years ago and he is still in my life in a big way. Most of this never came out in the original court case; I was an ex-junkie with a bipolar diagnosis and the fact that he’d had enough control over me to allow me out in public without me ever asking for help went against me, too. He got a plea deal; no jail time. His probation put him in a no-contact order with me, and I had a restraining order, but he broke it often and every time, I slipped so easily back into his slave, especially after he detailed to me (with honestly frightening specificity) the ways he would torture me, including flaying me alive, if he ever even thought I was thinking of betraying him again. He blackmailed me by pointing out my father’s illness (was awaiting a heart & kidney transplant in an ICU ward) couldn’t handle the stress of finding out he was back in my life, he stalked me when I tried to leave, he broke into my home and raped me in ever room in the house. When I tried to get help from the cops, it always ended with another broken restraining order and another slap on the wrist. The last time, when they didn’t offer a plea deal and I had to testify to all of this in front of my own parents, the jury found him not guilty on all charges despite having physical proof he’d violated the restraining order. He responded by showing up outside of work one night, forcing me into his car, and raping me in it in a fast food restaurant parking lot during dinner time. When he forces his way back into my life now, I don’t go to the police. I just move away as soon as I can.

Right now, he’s on the 4th year of a 4-year prison sentence for molesting his 15-year-old sister. He’s stalking me from prison; sending letters, calling over 30 times a day until I pick up and let say what it is he wants to say… I used up the rest of my savings in the last move, so I don’t have a lot of options at this point. I have until December to find a solution, or we’ll both be out on the streets again and he’ll know exactly where to find me. He’s detailed what happens then, taking special glee in the prospect of “breeding” me, of sharing me with the friends he’s made in the sex offender treatment unit, of training our sons to be like him and our daughters to be like me, his whores. I’ve tried to commit suicide multiple times this year, which he knows, and he knows this is why. It bothers him enough to promise to stop, but not enough to actually do so, because I’m his slave, and he knows he owns me.” — stillaslave

12. Her father would watch her get changed

“I know someone whose father used to watch her sister whom she roomed with by peeking in their window while they changed. It seems to change how you view/form healthy relationships.” — liz1065

13. My coworkers set up a ‘date’ for me

“I was pretty depressed when I was 16. My family was distant and I was lonely and had pretty bad mental health. I’d never had any real friends since I was 11 or any boyfriends. I was having tea at this cafe one day after college (sixth form) when one of the waitresses started to talk to me about the book I was reading. All the waitresses were young, 18-25, and very pretty. I was really surprised that girls that cool would want to talk to me.

I started coming more often (that time had been the first time) and they only ever had a couple of other customers, always men. They kept talking to me. About girl stuff, most times. One of the waitresses took me shopping at one point and bought me really nice dresses and lingerie and make up. They gave me a makeover and they all talked about how pretty I was and took pictures of me.

One day I came in and they mentioned there was a man sat across from us who said he liked me. I was shocked and incredibly pleased. He was about 35 and had a nice shirt and he was handsome. His age didn’t occur to me, just that he liked me. They told me they’d set up a ‘date’ for us. So the man and I left at the end of the day and went around town and then to his hotel room. I said I felt sick because he started to take off his clothes, and he was very patient at first, but I was still shaking and froze up after an hour, so he just held me down as he raped me.

I came back to the cafe. The waitresses were all so pleased with me. They bought me more stuff. They told me they’d arranged some more dates. They said I was so pretty and so many men wanted to date me. So I went on more ‘dates’. Sometimes they would be really nice, sometimes they’d tease me about never having a real boyfriend or a family that loved me and ask me what I proposed to do when I was older.

After a really bad one where I was bleeding a lot I told one of the waitresses I wasn’t coming back and she burned me on the stove and said I’d have to work extra hard now that I had an ugly burn mark. So I carried on coming. One day, they said the cafe was bankrupt and we’d all have to relocate to a city about four hours away. We prepared to leave the next week. But before we could go, armed police came into the cafe to arrest one of the men waiting at a table, and, I guess, the rest is history. I was saved by a guy who had CP on his phone.” — throthrothroayrboat

14. I was abused at school

“I am a guy, currently 19 years old, When I was about 8/9 i was abused by a 16 year old guy in my school (p-12 school in Australia) It also happened with another girl that was my age, the guy and my friend where ‘dating’ she invited me to it and it had been happening before i was involved, It happened inside of the principal office, The guy was in there at lunch time because he had some problems and they let him spend his time in there, I was brought there I don’t know how many times, but i was touched by the guy and my friend, he encouraged us to to perform sexual acts on each other, and he also performed sexual acts on us, I had no idea what was happening to me, in the end my family moved away, this only happened for about 6 months and it doesn’t affect me to bad, I have only told 2 people i have been abuse but not my story, I haven’t talked to anybody about it i don’t plan on it.” — Throwaway20468

15. My wife’s aunt was used as a sex slave

“I think my wife’s Korean aunt was a child sex slave. They just say she was brought over as a child and was kept in a small box for a lot of her childhood. She’s really short and clearly has developmental problems/moderate intellectual handicap. She’s always in a good mood though, and her daughter is attractive, smart and has a masters, married an engineer. Somehow despite being really slow she has a good job with the county courthouse as a clerk or something.” — Vagabondvaga

16. My grandfather abused my sister — and no one believed her

“I don’t understand people. My sister finally told someone last year about her abuse from our grandfather on our father’s side. The entire side of his family do not believe her, they think she’s lying. They blame my mother and my sister. What makes it even more shitty is the abuser fled back to Mexico after it came out. Our own father doesn’t even back my sister up or has ever tried to talk to her. Just turned his back on not only her but all of us. The worst part, nothing ever came about from the investigation.” — BrokenThunder

17. My uncle raped me while my father watched

“When I was seven i was living with my dad and my uncle (his brother) was constantly staying at the house. He didn’t have a job and got into drugs so my dad gave him shelter. Almost immediately after he began to stay over, my uncle came into my room at night and had sex with me. I would fight back in the first few months but soon enough it became routine, and I figured it was something most kids had to deal with, like doing chores. One day, when I was nine, my dad walked in on us. We were always quiet, but my dad came in anyway. He looked at us, and we both froze, and he just left and went back to bed.

The night after, my dad said he knew I was upset and embarrassed and I shouldn’t be, and said we should run away together to our own house where my uncle couldn’t find us. A road trip to Georgia. So I was very excited. I didn’t even mind the nights with my uncle so much because I knew I’d be running away soon. A few months afterwards, while my uncle was out buying drugs or whatever, we got in his car and drove. I cried with happiness. My dad had rescued me.

We had to stop and stayed at a hotel. He said he knew the owner. I was disappointed we didn’t have our house, but my dad said we would have to save money up. He left me in the room all day for a week while he went out looking for work (that’s what he told me). Then one night he started crying and said he couldn’t buy us a house. I was so upset to see my dad cry. He said he could only think of one thing, and said it was like what me and my uncle did. I wanted to protest, but it was scary seeing my dad so sad. So I promised him I’d do it.

So men and sometimes women would come into our room and have sex with me. They were allowed to be rough, but the price dictated the roughness. If they hit me too hard or whatever my dad would stop it. Most of them were old men. Some of them cried and some of them said they were sorry.

We moved around for another three years to different hotel rooms before my dad went out one day then never came back and the police came in and took me away. I was so sad to learn my dad was going to go to prison, and then that he had killed himself. I had just wanted us to have our house. Don’t know what happened to my uncle.” — tossdawayy

18. My father put two bullets in my rapist’s legs

“I was 8 years old. There was construction going on in neighboring house. Owners haven’t arrived here yet. So I don’t know why I went there, may be to see how constructions work. I kept going for a few days and then one day one of the guys at construction asked me to stay for a while. I stayed until other workers started to go home. Then he removed his cloths and handed me his penis and asked to see mine. Then his sperm was on my hand. Now I am 28. Still feel those moments because next day somehow my father got to know about this and shot two bullets in his both legs. A few years later I understood what he made me participate into. And with time I completely lost appetite for sex with a partner. Have been actively masturbating but not enjoying with a partner. Can’t get erection with one sadly.” — sindhichhokro

19. My cousins all abused me

“It started when I was six. I was molested by a female cousin who was ten years older than me. I had no idea it was wrong.

A few years later, an older male cousin also abused me. It started out with fallacio, and escalated pretty badly. It happened until I was about 13.

I couldn’t tell you how many times it happened. It was terrible, painful, shameful, and it affected every aspect of my life.

He penetrated me, urinated in my mouth, hit me, and I think he might be a psychopath.

Another girl tried to press charges for sexual assault, but it didn’t happen due to lack of evidence. He used to hurt animals when he was younger, and stole from stores occasionally.

Penetration hurt a lot. Especially when he tried anal on me without lube.

My memory is terrible. Just in general. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood, and stuff in general. There was one night I spent the night at my grandma’s house with my good cousin, and she said I did something unlike me. I threw my grandma’s contact lense, and other things. I have zero memory of that. None. I don’t know why. I don’t think he abused me that night, but I just don’t remember. I don’t remember every time he did it either. Probably for the best.

When I was 16, I told a teacher I needed help, and I ended up commited in a psych hospital. When I told the teacher, dean, and psychologist at the school they were shocked. one of them asked how many times, and I said I had no idea. I will never forget the look on their faces. I feel bad that I burdened them with that.

The hospital did nothing for me. The only good thing it did was get me away from my parents. They told my parents to not yell at me, because I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was a complete, and total mess. I cried over every small thing. I dropped a plate of spaghetti, and cried. I didn’t know how to pick it up.

I had to act normal around him to not arouse suspicion.

When I was about 15, I told my dad what happened. Not the extent of it. He took me to mental health, and after my first appointment with my psychiatrist he yelled at me in the car on the way home. He said he tried to convince my mom to not adopt me, because I’d be “too fucked up” by my biological mom’s drug usage. It was the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me. Makes me cry to this day. He told me he didn’t believe me at first. I don’t, and just can’t understand why he would automatically assume I was falsely accusing those people of hurting me.

I used to cut myself a lot. Like, over 20 cuts on my arms at times. I would sometimes literally cut myself until I couldn’t anymore. I’ve tried to stop many times. Lots of lots of times, but I always end up relapsing. Right now was the longest I’ve ever gone. Almost 9 months. It was tempting sometimes, and whenever I think of what happened, I feel like doing it.

I was depressed for literally most of my life. Wanting to kill myself always, but was too much of a puss to actually do it. If I had a gun, I would’ve. If I had my license, I would’ve drove myself off a mountain.

I became numb as a teenager, and for long stretches of time I didn’t feel real. Nothing was real. No one was real. Then I would be depressed again, and again. A never ending cycle. Also insomnia. I still have insomnia, and I’ll always have it, and I’ll always need medication for it. Also for the depression. I’ll always have to take those.

I recently got better mental health people, and my psychiatrist seems way better than other I have ever seen. He said he thinks PTSD, major depressive disorder, insomnia, and possibly generalized anxiety.

I used to have nightmares every single night about rape in general. Not necessarily him, but demons, or other people. It made it hard for me to want to sleep, but I needed every bit of sleep I could get due to my insomnia. There were nights I didn’t sleep, but the only thing that was consistent was that if I slept, it would be the max of four hours.

I worry constantly about almost everything. It got a little better, but it’s still there. When I see an accident on the highway, I call my dad to make sure he’s okay. I’ll also call my mom if it’s around the time she gets off work. When my dad wasn’t home at his usual time I would call to make sure he was okay. It actually became a joke between us. Dad: “Why are you calling? To make sure I didn’t die lol”, and I would say yes and laugh too.

At 23, I’m doing a little better, but not as great as I’d like to be.

I used to want to kill myself almost constantly. I can’t watch sexual violence in the media. I was scared shitless for years to have sex. Even now, I can’t have my neck touched, because I was strangled by him.

I hate people. Seriously, and absolutely. I worked a fast food job for over a year. Friends have told me that they couldn’t deal with what I did for as long as I did. The manager was a dick. Doesn’t see that he’s the reason so many people quit. I actually prefered doing the fries, or sandwiches, because I didn’t have to deal with the general public. No matter how “good” the day was. Even if people weren’t dick heads, I’d go home frustrated, and pissed. I hate people literally that much. I cannot stand people. I can’t stand working, but it’s reality, and it’s what I have to do. Frankly, if I had the choice, I would never work again. Better yet, I’d choose to never live to begin with. Everything pretty much sucks, and I’m done with it.

I ramble. I apologize for it.” — Throwthrowthrowaw7

20. My adoptive father got me pregnant twice

“I was adopted by a family finally when I was 11 after living a pretty shit life. It was great until the dad decided I was there for his sexual pleasure. He ended up getting me pregnant twice and forcing two late term abortions on me. I was able to get out before he started loaning me to his friends.” — ButtLooseTina

21. My mother was abused as a child

“I believe my mom was sexually abused as a kid/teen. She ran away when she was 16 or so and lived with friends until she could graduate. She was so ashamed about her abuse that she refused to get help for it but she has a number of weird behaviors because of it.

1) She tries to look super young all the time (buys stuff from the teen section of the store).

2) She always acts in a sexual/flirty way with all men. It doesn’t matter who it is, that’s how she interacts with them.

3) From a very young age, she would go into graphic detail when telling me what rapists do to little girls. She used to read horrific stories of child abuse from the newspaper. It got really bad after Polly Klas got murdered.

4) This made me develop a lot of weird rape fantasies and other coercive thoughts about sex. It was especially bad because she’d go into such detail. Ugh. I never got molested or raped by my mom, but her words were pretty awful for my overactive imagination.” — Oniknight

22. My father rented out my body

“My parents got divorced when I was five and after visitation rights were solidified, my father started renting me out. The first time, the guy just forced himself on me, but sometimes I’d be unconscious, depending on preference.

I never told anyone for a number of reasons. He told me I deserved it, that he’d hurt my mom if I told her, that I’d get taken away and never get to see her again, that she’d be mad at me for letting it happen in the first place. I was a kid and I believed him, and by the time I was smart enough to figure it out, I’d already internalized a lot of it and more or less accepted my situation.

When I was 12, he took me on a trip to France where I found out that he was planning to rent me out for free use at a party type thing and I ran away. I hid out in Belgium for two weeks until it was time for us to fly back to the states. I guess he didn’t bother reporting me missing because he was afraid I’d tell why. I begged my mom to let me stop going to his house after that, though I still never told her why. She was angry because she thought he would take her to court again but it just never happened.

I saw him again when I was finishing high school. He was moving across the country and my mom insisted I go see him one last time. He raped me himself as a power trip I guess and I’ve not seen or heard from him since.

It fucked me up and I ended up failing out of college and trying to kill myself and life’s somehow harder than when everything was going on.” — homeskillybiscuit TC mark 

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