Part One: Chapter OneMature

Abused and neglected by the people suppose to love and care for him and the person's love who helped piece back the pieces of his broken mind, heart and soul to overcome it all.

I know why no body loved me....I was a rape child.

My earliest memory is off when I'm four years old. I am being forcied to pose naked with five other boys a little older then myself. Sometimes they force their penises into my mouth for the camara, other times they put my penis into their mouth. Or they would bend me over and push their fingers, dildos, bananas, or penises inside my bottom not stopping even if I cried in pain. I don't hate them for what thy did....they were victims as well. The photographer was Joe. Joe used to tell me I was his favourite little boy and after shoots he would sit me on his lap masterbate my penis while feeding me sweets before taking me to his office to rape me himself.

I am know what Joe is; a paedophile and child pornography photographer. Now I realise Joe was a dangerous dangerous man, he helped fuel numorous child abuse rings as well as indivuals. He must of sold millions of child pornography to millions of other paedophiles. Joe also couldn't of cared about the wellbeing of his victims; he always saw me covered in bruises and far too skinny. He just airbrushed me. As a child though Joe was the only souse of comfort I ever had. After he was finished abusing me he would cuddle me....for my whole childhood he was the only one to give me a cuddle. I craved his cuddles; the only souse of kindness I ever got was his sweets and cuddles....and it wasn't even an act of kindness as all.

I know Joe had been photographing me sexually from before I was four; according to my very large portfolio kept in his office of me my first photographic I was only three days old. My life from the minute I was born was full of mother Marie had been raped. I was conviced and already disliked by family because of my "real" father. They couldn't hurt me so they chose "his" small son instead. I suppose even my name showed their dislike to me; they're twisted ideals of what I was. I was called Devil; when I went into the care system my name had been bullied by older children a lot. I suppose they wanted that reaction from people who came into contact with me; they wanted everyone to hate me just like they did.

I was just four years old at the time and I already knew what my life was like; I would do the naked photos for Joe, I would be filmed having sex for Jimmy, and at home I would be beaten, raped, straved and forced to clean the house and my dad and siblings's cars, and do the shopping. I was very often driven places, motel rooms or people's homes where other adults would pay to have sex with me. Those times we're very frightening indeed.  I don't know when I first started having to do all this but I know I already knew it all by the age four.

One of my older brothers Kyle seemed to take great joy in forcing alcohol and drugs down my throat. I was very rarely allowed to wear any clothes; it hurt more on bare skin and most of the nights I slept inside the fridge. I don't know what they would of done if I had frozen to death over night; because of it I like to be very warm now. The coldness brings back many unplesent memories for me.

The End

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