I have corroborating evidence.
The pedophile next door to my childhood home also abused his
own daughter. He has two daughters, but I only saw him abuse one. He demonstrated
what he wanted to do to me on his youngest daughter, to show me that it was
normal and okay. It was a very effective strategy. Except now I am a grown-up
and remember shit, and now his daughter is a grown-up, too. I don’t know
whether or not she remembers shit, but I was not that skeevy perve’s only
victim. What he did to her corroborates my account of what he did to me. I also
find it hard to believe that his wife had no knowledge or suspicions about him
and what he did to little girls.
The pedophile diagonally to my childhood home also abused
other people. He was even arrested for it years and years ago, but I don’t
think any charges were filed, because I can’t dig up any records about that
arrest. Regardless, these other victims do remember what happened to them, and
their stories can corroborate my account of what that particular dirty old man
did to me.
After that sick fuck across the street raped me (the first
time), his wife was standing right there when I came up out of the basement and
ran home. She saw me. She saw him. She knew what happened then, and she still
knows it now. That corroborates what her husband did to me. I’m pretty sure my
sister knows about this time, too – she was at home when I ran in the house,
and she knew something was wrong, and I don’t remember anything else about her
being there except that she had the most disgusted look on her face and I felt
very dirty and shameful.
One of the things my dad and grandpa (his dad) did to me
when I was about four or five was attempt to do a “female circumcision” on me.
It was somehow related to their completely fucked beliefs/delusions about their
cult/religion – I remember it being explained to me in a way I was supposed to
accept as being “good” for me. They used wire snippers and they did cut me, but
I was moving around a lot (because it hurt SO BAD!!!), and there was A LOT of
blood, and they didn’t get to remove the organ they wanted to. They did leave a
deep cut, though, and I have a scar from it. Only my husband and I have seen
it, but still – it corroborates my account of what they did to me.
My brother walked in
the time my mom was sexually assaulting me as my dad looked on – we were in the
kitchen, for christ’s sake. My brother swears he remembers nothing of this, but
at the time he new something fucked up was going on, and insisted someone tell
him what it was. When I alluded to what had actually happened, he told me I was
very sick and his face looked very disgusted like that time my sister saw me
after I was raped by the guy across the street. That corroborates my account of
what my mom and dad did to me. That night was one of the times I cried and
cried and cried, silently, until I wasn’t awake anymore, and in the morning the
muscles in my back and abdomen were sore from all of the yelling I did in my
head.
I also have reams of documentation about my psychological
state – I’ve been evaluated many times over the years. (I was actually finally
just formally diagnosed with a personality disorder – Avoidant Personality
Disorder. Avoidant? Duh.) None of these evaluations mention or suggest that I have
experienced or experience any delusions or hallucinations, and none of them
mention or suggest that I am in any way not truthful.
And then there are the memories themselves – “recovered
memories.” I remember the things that happened because I WAS THERE. I was a witness. I can
provide more witness testimony-type of evidence than anyone would know what to
do with. All I would have to do is say out loud what happened to me.
I’m sure there is more corroborating evidence that I have
not thought to mention right now, but everything I’ve said in this blog post
alone should be enough to open a formal investigation into these crimes.
Shouldn’t it? I mean, it should, right? I really do think it
should. But it is hasn’t been enough, not up to this point, anyway.
Who knows? Maybe the shifting tides concerning victim
testimony based on recovered memories will change something about my situation.
Maybe the newly public acknowledgement that this shit DOES happen to kids every
fucking day will change things.
Maybe. But I’m not holding my breath.
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