Cuts Like A Knife

Will you cut me with a knife? Will you take away my pain? Will you fill me with such anger, that I will never be the same? I feel so much latent anger inside. So much directed at my parents. I hate them you know, for everything they did, for who they are, and how they live. I want to cut my arm open. A deep long gash across the inside of my forearm. I want to see the skin open up and see the tissue underneath. I want the blood to flow freely down my arm towards my wrist. It's warm Crimson flow trickling down dropping on the floor. I want people to see it, and be horrified and the sight. I want them to see what I feel inside. Just see me bleed, see my pain. See how hard it is. See how hard this life is to live. But you don't care, it all would be in vein. As it slowly trickles to the floor, you walk away seeing it no more, as if it never happened.

I hate it!

 My Father fucked me, I hated it.

 My mother had sex with me. I hated it.

 There was no one in my life to protect me. I hate it.

I live my life alone in a world I don't understand. I hate it.

If we ever seem a little crazy......maybe this is why!

Lets summarize so far shall we!!
We were physically abused as a baby in our bassinet. (So under 6 months of age)We clearly remember being hit so hard we went unconscious.
By age 3 we were tied to a bed and being shared around a pedophile ring by our father. He too was also abusing and raping us. He was using hypnosis and mind control techniques to get us to obediently do as we were told.
At 4 years old we moved to a new neighborhood. Not a safe one by childhood standards. Our neighbor down the street, John, regularly abusing us, forcing us to perform oral sex on him.
Other neighbors in the street were also involved in some really evil events. Our next door neighbor, Mrs Ogden, used to have children over in her back yard, and with her watching, used to get them to pleasure each other. Boys and girls of all ages.
Our principle at our primary school used to abuse us and have sex with us. His name was Barry White.
We remember our father often coming into our room at night to not only sexually abuse us but to also choke us and tell us how much he hated us. He would burn us with the shower, slap us across the face.
The people that he got to help him in this task used so many evil things on us to comply. Soldering iron inserted in us. Drugs, orgies, gang rapes, and beatings.  Just to name a few
At age 7 our mother headed back to work, so we headed to family day care. Not a good thing. The mother Pat was sexually abusing her son. If he pleased her, he could have his own toy to play with ....us. Not only did he sexually and physically abuse us, he also tortured us. Inserting knives inside us. Repeatedly putting our head under water threatening to drown us. Pat also wanted her turn, but she liked boys, so she made us become a boy so that we would be what she wanted. We often holidayed with them at Myponga beach. We were kept in a cage in a shed. We were raped and beaten. Another girl was kept in there with us. She was 12 and by now we were 9. They shot her dead right there in front of us in that cage. Her blood ran across the cement floor towards us. A man came and pulled us through the blood to the door of the cage, forcing us to open our legs. We were covered in blood, our friends blood. He forced us to spread our legs as he inserted into us, parts of our friend that lay on the ground, saying "I have to get it right up in there" They looked after us during holidays and before and after school for about 5 years.
 During some of the school holidays we would spend it with our grandparents. This was not a good thing either. Our grandfather, Jack, used to rape us and abuse us, sometimes quite violently, in his work shed and in the house. No one seemed to notice. Our cousin Mark, though only a few years older than us, was also one for abusing us. Though I don't as yet know all the details I suspect he was merely acting out some of what was being done to him.
Well before the age of 8, we were in child prostitution. $100 per night was how much it cost to have us to yourself to pretty much do what ever you wanted. God only knows how many people we slept with then.
We were brain washed and had mind control used on us to get us to do unspeakable things to others, both children and adults.
Our mother used to have sex with us and make us pleasure her. She also used to take us to a man, who's code name was Yogi Bear. He used to rape and abuse us, and film it. He once pointed a gun at our face and said, "you tell and I'll shoot"
At 15 we were raped by our neighbor John, again. This time we conceived a baby. We were not allowed to keep it and were forced to have an abortion.
 In my early forties, we stayed with our father at his house while on business. Using the old programming and mind controls he had carefully nurtured over the distance, through the years. He was able to sexually assault us while we were there, and we didn't remember it for years.
These are only some of the things we have remembered over these last few years. There is so much more to come.
We now have cut contact with all our family. We have our sons and our friends. They are few in number but they are ones we can trust. It is a lonely life, and we can depend only on ourselves. But then again it is the only life we have known.

It has not been an easy life, and some days, like today, it all just gets too much. We are tired of the fighting to survive. Knowing that the guilty live their lives free, while we live in a prison that we can never ever leave. As we delve deeper and deeper into our past more will come up. Please help not only us but the others who are still in the hands of these evil people.

If you walk with me through Hell, the rest of life is easy!

Just tears

Easter is over and we have had a long hard one. On the good side there was not one call back or attempted contact. In other words, they have given up on us. We are too far out of it now for them to worry about. This is of course a good thing. They don't see us as a threat that they have to follow up on and make sure we are still doing as we are told. It means we are finally going to be free. It does however hit the ever so tender spot that ...they don't want us any more and once again we are alone. Some of us feel deserted. At least if they still wanted to hassle us, we were in some form wanted, needed, important. Now they have given up on us. We are no longer of any significance to them.  Once again we are alone. Yes it is ultimately good, but it is also sad. Now we need to find a new way to live this life free from fear of the call back and contact. I want to smile but somehow for now it is just tears.

The Final Betrayal

It is hard to know where to start. I have added this picture because it has helped so much to accept that the actions of others are not my responsibility, and neither is worrying about what they may think of what I say here. This is my space and I WILL tell the truth whether they like it or not.
 We had to break contact with our final family member this week. Our Mother! Until now we had thought her involvement in our abuse had been minimal. Definitely not the best parent, but not involved. I was wrong. These last few weeks of intense flashbacks, as hard as it has been, has shown me so much about what went on back then. It has also answered so many questions that just didn't make sense prior to this. Why did she never pick up any of what was going on? Why was she so distant and cold? Why did she seem to have endless compassion for others but literally none for us? Why when she was near, was there constantly screaming coming from inside? Why did the thought of hugging her make our skin crawl? Why did using any of her stuff, make people inside scream? Why was there never peace when thinking of her?
Now I know why. She was not by any means innocent. I am not yet ready to share what she did. It all still seems a bit raw. But it is now decided, she never loved us, neither did our father, we were merely there as a annoyance that must be dealt with. There seems to be no one safe from there, so one we had to depend on. And now once again we have ourselves, our sons and our friends. That is all. It is a lonely life but we have no choice. It is survival, and nothing else.

How many?

We slept on the floor once again last night. Its that time of the year, we don't feel safe. The last week has been so hard. The pull to go back into the past has been so strong. The need to hurt. The flashbacks, almost constant throughout the day. Day and night. Evenings spent with dreams/nightmares of the past. I have learnt so much about us and what we have lived through, which has been good. But when every day is a struggle, all day every day, it gets too much. When we want to cut ourselves open and bleed. We want to be slapped, raped , beaten just to feel normal again. We want to go back to where we know the rules, we know what to expect, things are simpler there. Harder, abusive, but some how simpler that this stupid world we have no training for. What does it mean that normal for us is the way of abuse and torment? We have no training at all one how to just live life. How to fill a quiet Saturday without guilt, anguish, pain and torment. I hate this life.
As I lay there in the floor last night, trying to calm down the near hysterical little, who was so worried we weren't safe and she would get us, I wondered who else is doing the same. Who else is lying in the cupboard, under the bed, in the car, or on the floor, just to feel safe from those who may come? Who else finds this time of year that they cant rest. I feel like I am going to explode. When does it end.

Bleeding Out

Can u feel it? The blood pumping through your veins. Can you hear the thud thud of the heart. It's coming out, the life, the truth. It's bleeding Out. Slowly with every Crimson drop we see the light, the truth, the hope. Crimson drops of freedom from our captivity. The hate grows and people die, but justice is never obtained. The reality is we will never walk this world free, unchained and unfettered. It's seared within our soul. But we are bleeding out. Can u see it? Listen. .. You may hear the heart as it finally comes to rest. It is us and we are It. What more can we do. There is no hope for freedom only wasted dreams from a life long lost. Will you feel me breathing, can you hear my last breath. It is nothing to you, only the passing of the wind. But to us it is life. Breath out, then in. Breath out, and then no more. Bleed out and know, that it is never more. Cease.

More Of Melanie's Story

His name was Richard, he was in his early teens. Melanie was nine, maybe younger at the time. Richard's mother was abusing both him and us. The mother's name was Pat. She had told Richard that if he was good at pleasing her she would get him a "toy" of his own. We were that toy. They had taken us to their holiday Shack at Myponga Beach. It was night time. Richards parents were in their bed and Richard wanted to play with his new toy. He wanted to make Melanie cum. He inserted things inside her. Larger and larger things . They were hard and they hurt. He put things in her Anus too. Bigger and bigger things. He kept saying "I want you to cum Cunt!" "Do you want to cum Cunt?" With every question he asked, she had to reply with " yes sir" or "no sir". He kept asking her over and over again. "Do you want me to stick this sick up your arse?" "Do you want me to stick this knife up your arse? " . He used bigger and bigger things inside her. Forcing and pushing harder and harder. When she finally came, she started to cry, her chin began to quiver and tears began to flow. She cried. From the other room Pat yelled "teach your toy to be quiet!" With one blow across the face he knocked her out. Not for too long because when she came too, he was still over her. She went to cry again but it stopped. Lesson learned. He must have done some damage, because when she went to the toilet the was blood. Now today, she wants to reenact what happened to her. She wants to feel the pain again. She needs to see the blood again. There has to be blood. It's all she knows. The blood tells the truth and let's people know I was there.

You took the rest.

No matter how far I run, you will always be with me, haunting me, deceiving me. There is no place for me amongst the living, for I am only a shell of who I could have been. You took the rest.



This is intended of an expression of emotion, NOT a suicide note. We still breathe, even though it hurts.

You Knew

You knew what he was doing. You took no action. How complacent are you? You knew that he was using vaginal dilators on us but you didn't care. We know your secret now, you're not that innocent, are you. You pretend to play the game, the caring parent. But you are no better than the rest of them. You murdered us too. You have taken from us what can't be brought back. Our life is our own now, you have taken to many years. Its over, the time has come for us to leave. You were with us once but not any more. Goodbye