I watched Brave Miss World on Netflix last night. When it finished, I sat on my bed for a long long time and then the bad memory started to come out one by one. I thought about it for an entire night. Should I post my story which will make me remember again or should I just keep quite and shut up? I don’t know… But I feel that maybe by writing it out or by telling someone I would feel relief or some sort of closure or maybe a peace of mind I’m really not sure…. but I decided to just be brave and say it.
Hi My name is Nicole I was raped when I was 6.
In the country I grew up in, male nannies are often hired by families and it’s how I met the devil who was masked an angel. He looked like a kind guy. Always had a smile on his face and he took good care of me. He often lift me up and make me sit on his lap. I was six. I didn’t think anything of it. Until one day, we were playing hide and seek with other kids. He took me by hand and we hid in the back of my grand father’s pick up truck. Then after a while of hiding no one found us so he said that its getting boring so he was gonna teach me a new game. I remember being excited and giggling. I was about to stand up but he said to just lie down. I did what I was told.
Then he put his hand on my private part. I cried and told him it hurt so he should stop it. But he said it was part of the game and that I should do the same as what he was doing. So he took my right hand and put it into his private part too. He was about to take off my shirt when we heard one of my friend calling for me. He quickly put my shirt back and my knickers on then he told me not to tell anyone. I remember crying and whining that it really hurt. Then he said I should be brave. It was a game to make me strong.
A week after that. I came home one afternoon tired and sleepy after playing in the sun for too long. I was looking for my parents because they locked their room. But I couldn’t find them anywhere so I had no choice but to sleep in the wooden couch in the lounge room. I felt someone carried me and lay me down on a bed. The next thing I knew I was shouting and crying because there’s a sharp pain. He then covered my mouth and held both my hands because I was throwing my hand everywhere and he did his crime. After a while I felt so tired and numb that I was just laying there like a dead person. the only thing I can see was his eyes…it was red… His red eyes gave me nightmares until now. When he finished, he wipe me and dress me. He said not to tell anyone because he will kill me and my mom and dad. And I did what I was told.
I’m not quite sure how many times he did his crime. But he quit being my nanny two years after and he entered the army. I was nine when I heard that he died in the war. He apparently stepped on a land mine and was blown up. I can’t remember how I felt then. But there was one situation where my friends, my cousin and my brother were having a game called “open for room.” In that game, we were suppose to tell our secrets. I didn’t want to lose so I told them that I held that devil’s private part before. They laugh and was shouting ‘eeewww!’ so I didn’t tell them the whole truth. That very night my brother got mad at me and he shouted to my grandparents and to my mom what I had told him that day. I remember them looking at me and my mom sort of shouted if it is true. My brother shouted, “its true! its true!” Then he was wacked across the face by my grandfather. Then my my mom kind of carried me and ran to the next house and sat me down on the bed. She was trying to calm her self. Then ask me again if it is true.
Right then I was scared…. so I didn’t tell her the whole truth. I said it’s true mom, but he only made me hold his private part…. She hugged me and cried. I didn’t understand why…… and we never spoke about it ever again.
I moved to Australia when I was fourteen. I sort of forgot about the whole thing except from time to time I would have nightmares about red eyes. I didn’t understand what happened to me until years later I was in year 11 and I had to do a report of child abuse. Afterwards I asked my classmates if they had any questions. One of my classmate raise her hand up and ask “were you abused as a child?” I could hear my teacher scolding my classmate about that inappropriate question. But I sort of just stood there frozen like a statue. Until my teacher called out my name and I laugh and said “of course not stupid!’ But when I got home that day, I just stood in the middle of my room and I said to my self, “I’m a victim of child abuse.” Then all this bad memories just keep replying in my head like broken record. I found a pen on my desk and stab my hand with it to block anything out and I just sat on the carpet and cried my self for four hours until my mom got home. I stopped, wiped my tears, blew my nose and change clothes before I got out and smiled then welcomed her home.
It’s a good thing the pen wasn’t very sharp and I didn’t put enough pressure when I stab it on my hand. I didn’t get hurt. Just gave me a scratch like mark.
I never told anyone my story. My mother knows little but she did not know the pain I went through. She didn’t know about my nightmares either. Its better that way because I feel that she will be hurt greatly. I don ‘t want to see her cry, so I will keep this secret to my grave.
But Linor, I want you to know that despite what I’ve gone through. Despite realizing that I was a child abuse victim, I never lost my smile. I fought through. Because #IAmBrave. That’s who I am.
— Nicole, age 23