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I Hate You, You Look Just Like Him!

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Warning: The following article contains graphic and mature content.

“Him” was my father, the man who raped my mother. She was about twenty years old and a virgin at that. She was new to the city. She lived in New York with her sister. He invited my mother to meet his parents on a Sunday afternoon and she put on her Sunday best and waited for him outside. He drove her to his house, but no one was there. She tried to stop him; she fought hard, but he raped her then told her he was sorry and if she wanted to go clean herself. My mother said please take me home; she didn’t get to meet his parents that day.
 
My mother was about three or four months pregnant with me. She hadn’t picked out a name because she was going to have an illegal abortion. You see back in the 60s, abortions were illegal so she went to a lady who did abortions from her basement on a kitchen table for a few dollars. This lady laid some bloody towels on the table from some abortions she had done that day. My mom was really scared, but had no choice. You see, my aunt (her sister), who she was living with, was married with three children and he told my mom if she was pregnant she had to go live with someone else. The lady had a couple of wire hangers that she straightened out. She grabbed one and wiped it with some alcohol and told my mother to take off her underwear and lay on the table and bend her knees and spread them open. This lady also gave my mom a piece of wood to bite down on and told her it was going to hurt, but she better not scream or they will get in trouble, so my mom bite on the piece of wood, closed her eyes, and grabbed the sides of the table. She felt a very sharp pain go into her insides and she screamed and screamed and bit into the wood while the lady moved that wire hanger in and out and left and right. When it was over, the lady told my mom to go home and get in a hot bath and that its been taken care of and to take some aspirin and get some rest. My mom walked home by herself hunched over in pain. She went into the bathroom and there was so much blood just running down her legs she got in the shower. The water was so red with her blood she passed out and woke up in the ambulance that was taking her to the hospital; she didn’t want to go but she didn’t have a choice. The doctors knew right away that she had an abortion that went wrong. My mom never admitted to them that she tried to have an abortion but the doctors told her we know you did because there was a lot of damage inside of her, but the abortion failed; he was still pregnant. My mother was so upset and just cried. I guess I was meant to be born.

When mom was about eight months pregnant with me, she flew back to her home in Puerto Rico and gave birth to me. She tried to leave me there with my grandmother, but my grandmother told her she was my mother and she has to take care of me. Grandma didn’t know about the rape. So when I was a month old, she took me back to New York and refused to let my so call father see me; he wanted too though. She hated him so much, but she hated me even more. My life from that day on was hell with my mother. It was a life without touch, feeling safe, or being loved. The beginning of my hell because of “HIM.” I always heard the same words come out of my mother’ s mouth just about every day for as long as I can remember: “I hate you, you look just like him!”

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