“I….was sexually abused. And no one helped me because no one loved me.”

I’m barely coming out of AP Exams and I still have finals coming up. But even then, I want to squeeze in one post. So here it goes.

As some of you may know, I was depressed and was sent to a mental hospital by the police. I wrote about it in one of my previous posts and talked about my experience and feelings going on that time. But the thing is, it was only MY story.

A few days before I left the mental hospital, some of the people there asked me to share their stories once I got out. But I hesitated. For a long time. Maybe because I was still dealing with myself, or maybe because I wasn’t ready. But this burden stayed down there and gnawed at me. So today, I will share one of those stories. And I’ll begin with my roommate and friend, Aidan.

Aidan. I’ve only known him for a couple of days, but even now, thinking about him brings back a sad feeling inside of me. That I will never see him again. I remember when I arrived at the hospital at night, crying, still injured from the shock of being forced to stay at a mental hospital. I remember shuffling to my hospital bed for the first time then curling under the blanket, crying. I remember my mind going through my life, trying to figure out what went wrong. And then I remember, in the middle of my extreme sadness, I heard a big HELLLLLOOOOOO. I looked up to see who it was, and the first thing I thought was, get the fuck out man, can’t u see the state I’m in. To me, he didn’t even seem depressed or anything. He seemed like any regular hyper teenager. So I simply ignored him.

However, after a day or two, we would start talking. Just me and him, in the middle of the night, laying on our beds, staring blank at the ceiling. I found out he liked comic superheroes.  He was in love with this girl back home. He even wrote a love letter and planned to send it to her as soon as he got the chance. He was like any typical adolescent. Except for his past.

He was the younger brother of his family. And like any normal functioning family, he was a constant pest to his older brother. The only  difference was that his older brother was dysfunctional. One day, he recalled to me, when his parents were away from home, he pulled a prank on his older brother. What the prank was, Aidan never told me. But his older brother was furious. Furious to the extent that he pulled out a knife and cut Aidan at the wrists. He told Aidan that if he ever told their parents, he would kill him. Aidan was a little kid back then, so he  was scared and never spoke up. But this was only just the beginning.

The next time their parents were away from home, his brother came to Aidan’s room, dragged him out, and would constantly beat him up. He would get drunk and laugh at his younger brother, and then boast about the power he had over him. Day after day, it was constantly like this, and Aidan kept quiet out of fear. Sometimes, the brother only did little, like a heavy slap in the face. Other times, he would go crazy, such as making him burn his hand up.

But at one point, the abuse went from physical to sexual. Aidan didn’ t tell me much about this, but I knew what kind of sexual abuse he had gone through. And for him, it hurt, doing stuff he never wanted to do.

One day, though, his brother got caught, was sent to jail, and was never heard from again. As for Aidan’s parents, they divorced, only adding to his struggle. He’s never seen his mom since then, “and I miss her very much,” he once whispered to me, with those crying eyes. His dad sent him to a mental hospital soon after, but then he got out and returned home, only to see a new stepmom.

“I hate her, too.” He tells how everyday she makes him clean the whole house, and how she makes a big deal out of every little spot he forgets to clean.  And when he does get it right, he receives no compliment. “My dad used to support me a bit. Now, he doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t love me. And I thought he did.” And Aidan told me how his stepbrothers never did the work and it was always him. So one day, he  rebelled. Tired of everything. And the next thing he knew, he got sent away again.

“My dad says, oh I don’t want to do this Aidan, but I have to. And my stepmom, well she appears to be sad too. But I bet inside her shes smirking at me.” For Aidan, his parents don’t love him. And in turn, he chooses to not love them back. There was one quote from him that really caught my attention, and it was this: “My house is not my home. To me, it’s simply another place I have to be in.”

So for most of my time spent there, we just laid there and talked. We occasionally would get bored and play around with socks and paper airplanes. But between me and him, we had this new bond, one that I would always remember.

And so I remember right before I left the hospital, we shook hands. And he told me, “Don’t forget to plan that reunion, ey?” And I said I will, even though I knew not of a way to contact him. He has no facebook, no email , no anything. But I promised. And I remember when I looked back as my mom picked me up, I saw a smiling face waving bye at me. A face with so much pain underneath. And I still remember his face. Every detail. I still remember. And I plan to see that face again in the future.

Because my worst fear is that I will never see him again.


5 thoughts on ““I….was sexually abused. And no one helped me because no one loved me.”

  1. Can you find out the address of the hospital? One of my regrets is not sending a reply to my penpal before she moved away from her house.

    There’s so much hurt in the world; it almost makes you mad at people who follow the “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy.

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