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SURVIVORS STORIES

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Well, before we moved to the Americas, my family life was great as far as I can remember. We lived in a quiet neighborhood and we were happy. When I was about seven, my mother began to stay out later than usual and she would never come home for lunch anymore. Pretty soon my father began to catch on to what was going on. He said nothing but took to the bottle. He began to drink more heavily when my mother would leave for entire weekends. One weekend when she came home, he was drunk and he began to yell at her. She then yelled back and they got in this screaming match about her affairs. I did nothing but watch them. Then he hit her in the face. She backed up and then began to yell about that. He then punched her really hard in the face. She fell and her nose began to bleed. He then took off his belt and began to beat her with it. She began to scream for help. I started to cry because I never seen him hit anyone before. When he stopped he looked at me. Then my mother stood up and ran out of the house. That was the last time I saw her. After that night, I was scared of my father. Especially since he began to drink every day. Finally my father got fired from his job and we were left with no choice but to call up my fathers old buddy that had moved to the Americas years ago. The friend said that we could move over there and live with him. So we packed up. I was scared for I never been to America, and I heard plenty of stories about the land. Not only that, I could not speak English. So we moved in with him when we got there. To me, nothing was much different other than the language but I was still pretty petrified. Well, the old buddy named Jon was nice. He still knew how to speak my language and he tried to be nice to me. My father still drank but then he found some friends that were seriously heavy drinkers. And they began to have parties at the house. Jon began to join them too. That's were I first began to learn English was from their drunken talk. I would sit in there and watch them all, one day, Jon in a drunken daze, told me to go over to him. I went because he had never done anything to make me not like him. He told me to sit on his lap. I was still seven. I did and he put his arms around me. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I looked at my dad, and my dad was laughing and watching. He was yelling stuff with everyone else, stuff I couldn't understand. Jon then began to rub my stomach, I said stop but he just held me tighter. His hands then went lower. I tried to struggle but then one of the friends at the party reached over and slapped me. I began to cry because I had pretty much knew what they were going to do. I looked over and saw one of the guys close the door and all the curtains, then he locked them too. Another guy pulled out a video camera from his bag and set it up. I began to scream as Jon held me and another began to undo my pants. Then someone put something over my mouth. Then Jon lifted me up and put me face down on the couch. He then twisted my arms behind my back. I heard him unzip his pants. I don't really remember him forcing himself on me, but I do remember the pain. I remember feeling so helpless and lost as everyone, including my father, took part. When it was over, my father came up to me and told me never to tell anyone or that he would kill me. I then heard through my tears all the guys laughing, probably because of the language but I will never know. My father then beat me and kept making me say that I would never tell. This happened about once every week. Every time it was video taped. Then my father and Jon would force me to watch it. I would also have to perform oral sex on them about twice a day. Since they always talked in my language, I still could not understand English. Finally, my father got in trouble for not sending me to school, so I went to school. I was actually relieved to go, so I could get away from them. The elementary school had to hire a language teacher for me because no of the teachers were fluent in German. I was a good learner and slowly began to understand the English language. At home, things got worse, I would get home from school, and all of the guys would be waiting, after the used me, they would beat me nearly into unconsciousness. This happened for about five years. Soon, I began to retreat into my own world. At school, my teachers began to notice and tried to talk to me. After a while, they figured it was the language barrier so I had only one teacher and that was my translator. The teacher was still with me when I hit junior high. I still had a lot of English to learn. One day, when I was with my translator, I was about fourteen now, I began to cry. He began to ask me what was wrong in English and German. Then in German, I slowly began to tell him. He sat and listened throughout the difficult parts and when I finished he just sat there and looked at me. He said he would try and help and took me to the mall. He told me to wait for him and that he would be right back, but he never came back. Everyone looked for him but he had just left. To this day, I never knew why. I decided then and their never to tell anyone else. When I was sixteen, all of the guys we again there waiting at the house for me. I walked in, and then quickly walked out not wanting to do this again. But they chased me down and dragged me in the house. There they beat me and then used me, then tied me to the bed and then proceeded to use the belt and stick on my back as a punishment. Only this time, they didn't stop until blood was running down my back. When it was over and they had untied me and left, I just sat in a state of shock. Not really thinking of anything, just the pain. I then got up and pulled some black clothes on and went to my fathers room. He was gone so I was not worried. I took my fathers gun from the closet and then left the house. It was Thursday night and it was late. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring the pain, I ran to the school. I then sat on the side holding the gun in my hands. Tears were falling down my cheeks. My mind was so mixed up and confused. I then stood up. I lifted the gun to my head. By now, I was not even scared. I was like a machine. Then a woman behind me gasped. She said, "Don't do it." I knew what she was saying but my response came out in German. She told me to put the gun down. I couldn't though. After about twenty minutes, she finally persuaded me to put the gun down. She then began to walk towards me, and I began to cry, so I turned away from her, she then touched my back saying that she will help me. I jumped away from her touch. I knew who she was, she was the school counselor. Eventually I told her the problem, and she took me to the police. They got my story and my father and the guys were arrested, I was placed in a foster home, then to be adopted by the school counselor until I was eighteen. I consider her my guardian angel. If she had not been at the school later than usual, I would have surely killed myself. I really can't describe in words how I feel about what happened. I still have scars from it today and I am nearly 30. I still can't bring myself to even look at guys or be friend with them, I only talk to females. I am currently involved with a woman, we plan to get married, and she has been great at helping me cope with everything. As for the videos, they are gone, no one could find them. Even though my father who is out of jail wants to talk to me, he has called and even tried to cross my path, I refuse to talk to him. As for my mother, she was killed in Germany by the guy she ran off with.