My brother was older than me, he had been placed into care but still come home to visit us sometimes. I was so excited to hear that he was coming.
I brushed my hair and made an effort, oh how I missed my big brother.
I was too young to really understand what was happening, but my mother wasn’t a good one, I knew that much.
Mum had tried to kill my brother. That was the reason he was placed into the care system.
When my brother raped me it almost destroyed me, it just didn’t make any sense at all.
He had come up to my bedroom to see me; he closed the door and walked over to me.
There he began to take off his shirt and remove his trousers.
He pushed me back onto my bed and pushed the pillow into my face.
My brother raped me and hurt me so much
I couldn’t breathe and was struggling with all my force, but I was not match for him.
It hurt, it hurt so much.
The whole area down there was on fire, stinging and burning, I thought I was going to die.
When he had finished he sat beside me and told me that if I told anyone about what had just happened then I too would be put into care.
I was terrified.
But mum found my bed sheets, they were soaked in blood. I don’t remember what happened though.
I saw my brother again a few weeks later, this time we were both at our dad’s house. My brother tried to strangle me with a telephone wire. My dad thankfully saw and stopped him.
I was beside myself with fear, my brother raped me and here he was trying to kill me.
He never touched me again.
I was 11 when I saw an advert for rape. I had been kept off school as I was poorly with Chickenpox. There on the TV was what had happened to me.
All that hurt and pain had a name, rape.
I told my mother that my brother raped me.
It’s all a blur but she phoned my dad and they phoned the police. An examination proved I had been penetrated.
They took my brother to be questioned and he admitted raping me.
My mother hated me; I had brought her embarrassment and shame.
Thankfully my dad was there every step of the way.
I don’t really know what happened to my brother, he was only a child himself, he wasn’t sent to prison.
A few days before my brother raped me a member of the care home had abused him, he was deemed a mixed up kid.
I had to see him again, he said he was sorry and my heart broke for him.
He was still my brother and I still loved him.
I told him I forgave him.
He still struggles today with what he did. I think he has been punished enough.
All he ever wanted was for his family to love him, but mum had sent him away.
He had been abused and so he abused me, trying to rid himself of the pain and hurt he felt.
I could have hated him but where would that have got me? We were both young children and I have accepted that my brother raped me and I forgave him so I could move on.
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