I am writing this, and know you will not see this. That is of no importance, for you will say it is all lies, wouldn’t you.
For you, my past did not exist, at least the parts where you damage me. That did not happen, if you shut your eyes and kill your emotions – then it just my fantasy that I was abused by you.
Or you can re-designed my past until you are the victim, and I am a sex-crazed lunatic you could not help but to touch.
You are no victim, you are no misunderstood hero – you are a rapist, a child rapist, you are the bastard that brainwash me into believing I was nothing but a sex object.
You made me enter the sex trade, and accept the unacceptable as my norm.
I remember the first time I meet you, I had an instance dislike of you.
My gut reaction was to hate you – that reaction was the truth. As you became embedded in my life, as I had to come to terms with you being a permanent fixture – I forced myself to pretend to like you.
But I always hated you. I comforted myself by imaging painful deaths for, imaging my dream that my mum got rid of you coz she put her children first, imaging you did actually commit suicide as you often said you would whenever you caught out or thought I may be believed.
Mick – I hate you. I have no mixed feeling of loving you, only I thought I may keep myself safe by making you think I accepted you.
I never did – just knew my mother would always put you first – so there was no escaping you.
Now, let’s pinpoint a few events that you conveniently choose to forget. Events that are poison in me, as you cruise through life.
It must be so easy to have no conscience, to always believe you can do nothing wrong, to imagine even after raping and fucking other’s lives up, you remain the victim – no wonder you sleep so bloody well.
You have forgotten that you first finger-fucked when I was six. That is wiped from history as far as you are concern.
Well – I know the truth, I have it in my body as I even briefly write or speak of that time. I feel the pain still as your fingers went unnaturally into my cunt.
I remembered bleeding – that was no accident, I had no period at aged six – that was you forcing fingers into a hole that resisted, but could never win.
You bastard made me lose my virginity when I six – and it was nothing to you.
You forget that you surrounded me with hard-core porn, you forget taking photos of me that you would wank over. You forget that, coz now you the good man, the man who takes artistic photos not porn.
Well, I do not have the luxury of forgetting the porn. It is in my waking nightmares, it is behind how I learnt to be a whore – and now, it is the driving force that made me determined to be part of destroying the sex trade.
You made know the world of hard-core porn – if only for that, without your rapes and mental torture of me – I bloody hope you now in great pain.
You made see a future where sexual torture would be my norm. A future where dreaming of death would be my only comfort.
A future where I was not human – just holes for men to fuck and pour hate into. A future where I knew to smile and make suitable sex noises – as the only way to somehow make it stop.
You took me into the world of hard-core porn – and doing that you destroy my fight, my will to resist – you made into your sex toy.
I don’t believe in hell – but knowing you, makes me wish I did.
But you made know hell on earth.
I saw it in the dead eyes of the women and girls torture in your porn, I saw it in the cartoons of child rape and sexual torture of women, I saw in the smile as pain was unbearable – porn is hell, there no excuses that can be made for it having an existent.
I saw in porn hope was pointless – that a wonderful gift to give me.
You choose to forget that you made your sex toy – you remember one near-rape when I was 17.
You only remembered that coz I threatened to tell the police – and you got in first by “confessing” to my mum.
Confessing that you were drunk – through you only had at the most two glasses of wine. Confessing you were depressed – oh it well-known, the most common thing that the depressed do is to rape the nearest woman they can find.
But your confession was clever – it made you the victim.
It became a fact that I had been demanding sex from you for years – you had bravely stop yourself – until I caught you at your lowest ebb.
I was sex-crazed, I did it to destroy my mum’s marriage, I was jealous – you were a god-damned victim.
You knew if admitted the so-called worse, that you nearly penetrated me – you would get my mum on your side, and you have her endless protection – and the added bonus she would hate me.
You won that battle, she is with you till one of you die. You deserve each other.
I won the war by cutting you out of my life. And never forgetting who you really are.