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Journal of Innocence Stolen, Finale

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The impact of reality stings and traumatizes me wide-awake. Uncle has defeated all of my traps. No bells, no warnings. Hypothermia sets in as the Cold-Hearted Iceman takes his tongs and completely puts me where he wants. I scrunch into a corner. He does not waste time. It is dark and I think he puts a clothespin into my hand. I try with all my might to open this clip but all my strength has been drained. I am now a faded shadow of the high-ranking officer I had been only a few short hours ago. With both hands I budge the clip and navigate it to Uncle’s leather nipples. Contact. Sensation intersects as I realize Uncle has occupied my hands well. His are free and probing, stretching my flesh to its maximum. My hands are paralyzed. My two most intimate orifices are full. Pain, like electric shocks, pulse through my groin. My vagina throbbing, squeezing to emit his fingers? It feels like my feces are being impacted back into my intestines. Going the wrong way. I experience the sensation of every hair on my body at their root. Without a word, he has sabotaged the integrity of my battle plan. My hands have been placed around his penis. I choke and choke. Taciturn, ever so closemouthed, I scream inside my head. Tears flooding. He spits on me. I lay, utterly defeated. He conquers and retreats in piggish subjugation. 


I collapse, deflated and drying up. Sticky on my skin, wrinkling. He won. He won! Dear God, show me the way. Where is reason? Help…please. 


I hear a noise. It is our Friend/Aunt who is here for my graduation. I love her and trust her. Uncle has also confronted her in the past. God. You heard me, and the rooster crows. I tell her. She holds me even though I am dirty. She tells my parents. It is all Mum can do to keep an insanely enraged Dad from killing Uncle. Mum is convincing. Dad will be no use to us in jail. Everyone believes me. They know it is true. Uncle is banished from our home. Auntie and Uncle slip out and go back home. I wonder if Auntie knew why they had to go? I still graduate. 


Eleven winters after Uncles last onslaught, he dies from diabetes complications. Legless and alone. Cousin/Brother checks the casket to see if his birthfather is really dead. I am not in attendance. 


One night I dream that all of my family members are in a row. I am walking down the row hugging and kissing everyone. It is a funeral. I get to the end and look in the casket. I am inside. 


Shortly after this dream, a mutual friend introduces me to my husband. We go out and like each other a lot. My husband’s patience and understanding helped me learn how to be comfortable with myself. His family was equally as accepting. Together my husband and I created an atmosphere of love. Out of love came our daughter and five years later, our son. We have educated them about the monsters in our lives. As we all have our demons. 


Eleven years after the death of Uncle, Cousin/Brother comes out to my Older Girl Cousin and Mum about how for years, his own brother raped him, and the things he remembers about Aunties’ enabling Uncle to torture him with internal shock probes, branding irons and high-tension nipple clamps. How they exposed him to smut books, real photos of pedophilia, sex toys, torture chambers in downtown buildings and so much more we never knew. This is why Mum verbally and emotionally adopted Cousin/Brother and became a Grandma figure for his sons. During the year of Cousin/Brother’s emerging, we all come to a sad realization that all along Auntie is a big part of this whole thing as well as Cousin /Brother’s real brother. Mum feels so guilty for being adamant about protecting the feelings of her eldest sister. Through the years, a lot of people spent so much effort shielding the situation from Auntie only to feel deceived and manipulated now. We stand unified in our pain and try to quell the guilt, shame and blame. Love is our powerful antidote. 


Cousin/Brother gets help. He rises above his upbringing and emerges a man with a past he can put behind him and move forward in the present. We talk. We enlighten. We are close and unite on a level deep and disturbing. Perplexing to most, we are not alone. 


The path to my destiny is laced with prescription and illegal drug abuse, alcohol excess, and a short one-year physically and verbally abusive marriage to a severe alcoholic where I barely made it out with my life or self-esteem, sexual abandonment and a “devil may care” attitude. My teen years and early twenties were a perfect opportunity to see how low I could go. I left home for the Peace Corps and still confuse confidence with prowess. So began my sojourn to test the limits of my morals. It was also the journey to find how to live by the standards I raised when myself returned to my self. 


The details of my sexploits are not essential to the impact of my journal. Your imagination can do those justice. As your architect, this blueprint is most salient when the finite specifications are thoroughly followed. No stipulations. My design will build, for the world, the warped, copious framework of a predator, to scale. 


*Part snake and part cock, the legendary basilisk has fatal breath and glance. I feel Uncle had the same deadly effect when he looked or spoke to me. Unlike the basilisk’s victim, I found my own cure to survive his potent venom.  


I live now with my daughter and her family in a beautiful home in the country. It is safe and peaceful. I write these entries for my children and grandchildren in the name of innocence. In this solitude I can now divulge my confession forthwith. It is the only thing preventing me from going home. My crime. My secret, if you will. Formerly undeclared, is a murder. I claim responsibility. I have committed the perfect murder. It was my legacy. I have the right to log it now, here, on these pages for all to see. I am shameless for the deed. Now you see why this biographical insight commences to be the focus, the offspring of my exacted plan. Completely open-handed, I freely admit that I maimed, killed and hung out to dry… my silence.


 


Read the Prologue

Read Part V


 

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