Beaten, raped, starved, forced drug overdoeses, forced to watch child pornography, forced to be in child pornography, and forced into positituion. The story of two brothers overcoming evil starts now.
I remember Sammy's first beating. I was only three years old and it's one of my earlist memories. He wasn't even born yet and Mom used to beat her stomach with him inside. He never had a chance at a loving home and a good life. As an older brother, I wanted to protect him, but I never could. I managed to take some of his beatings and "vistiors" and gave him most of my food, but I couldn't protect him from everything. No matter how hard I tried.
The day Sammy was born, was the best day of my life. I was happy, and I knew the minute I saw his small face and tiny hands in the hospital that I had to everything I could to protect him. I wanted him to be safe from the hands off our parents. The next day he was brought home. Dad dumped him in a cot and just left him. I was four by this time.
"Dean come watch a special movie with Daddy and Mommy" Dad said. My stomach sunk. I knew what kind of movie it was. They made me sick. They scared me, and I knew just how much it hurt to have a grown man's penis inside you or to have a grown woman pushed down on you. I sat on the couch anyway, with Mom on the one side and Dad on the other. My clothes were pulled off me and Mom and Dad got naked and the movie started. It was a young girl just a few years older then myself having toys pushed into her by an naked old man. I wanted to run away and hide but of course I couldn't. While watching these "special movies" I was rubbed, stroked, touched, and sucked in places I didn't want to be touched. Years later I learnt that I was watching child pornography and that it was illegal. Although no one told me, I knew what my parents were doing was wrong. It didn't feel right and I didn't enjoy it. However what I didn't know that it wasn't normal. To me this is what happened to everyone and it was normal.
After the movie, I was either raped or had drugs pulled down my throat. I never found out what they gave me, it was all coloured bottles and pills that made me sick and sleepy to me. They tasted horrible though and I hated them. This time was different, Sammy was crying like all new borns do.
"Shut up you useless basturd!" Mom screamed at him. Of course this only made Sammy cry harder. He didn't understand what was going on; how could he? He was just a baby. Mom slapped and slapped at him. I ran to the cot and tried to reach for the brother I wanted more then anything to be safe but Dad stopped me. He had his hand on my small penis while I was forced to watch Sammy get slapped and slapped over and over again. She eventually stopped. I'm not sure why. Dad then poured a horrible pink liquard down his throat and Sammy soon fell asleep. Then went out to a bar and locked the door. I picked Sammy up and held him close, feeling gulity for not protecting him better. How could I? I was a victim just as much as he was.
I did the best I could, but the best wasn't good enough. I know that they're was nothing I could of done, I was a child and a victim of the abuse as well but that never took away my guilt or pain that I felt.