![]() When I was in my mid-twenties, I encountered my brother on a visit to my Mum’s with my wife and family. Eventually I was given my own room, and I could lock myself in. It was hard because I had to be up early for work. This occurred at least 6-8 times, so I used to stay out at night to avoid him. I would wake up and struggle but he had intimidated me all my life with physical and mental abuse. I was no match for his violence and his strength. When I was 15, he started sexually assaulting me again. My tormentor DID stop sexually assaulting me for a while, though he continued to physically and mentally abuse me, unabated. I never went to him with a problem again and we were never, ever close at all. That look was for me he was angry and disgusted with me. No comforting words or hug, just that look. I went to my Dad for help. I will never forget the look on his face as I told him what my tormentor was doing to me utter distaste and disgust. Then I started waking up in his bed and he would sexually and physically assault me, again this happened at least 3-4 times. (I wonder why no-one heard me crying as he hurt me?) This happened 3-4 times, though I managed to escape once or twice. His sexual abuse of me started in the bathroom, at first he tried to bribe me, then when I resisted, he became threatening and violent. Perhaps he was jealous, though he was always our Dad’s “golden-haired child”. He was always resentful and cruel to me, he had been “the baby” for a long time. ![]() The next youngest was a brother, my tormentor. ![]() I was around 7-8 years old and was the youngest in a large family. A young JohnMy story starts in the late 60’s, my memories are not clear on dates, etc.
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