drip drip drip

 For some time now, I have had this nagging irritation in the back of my mind...my sleep has been pretty good overall, but a couple of nights I tossed and turned having weird dreams that were all over the place and made absolutely no sense.

Until last night.

I have a fear, or aversion about going into sheds or cellars or basements, I always categorized my fear as "claustrophobia"...because some of my punishments included having to sit in a dark closet for hours at a time...

I have written about being used in "sex trafficking"...Sophee wrote the blog about it...

But me, Sparrow, is writing about these new memories.

As a 15-17 yr old, I was involved with a boy/man (19-20 yrs old) who had a very strange father or dad.  I remember the dad as dark and silent, in fact, any communications with him, in the home, had to be written notes, he was not verbal...he could talk, but he did not talk in his home...hmmmmm

Anyhoo,  my dream starts with being in a home somewhere, I cannot put my finger on whose home or where, but somewhere on the middle to southern east coast.   I do not remember if this particular home was the same home used on the island for sex games...

But in this home was a door that lead to a downstairs, like a basement or cellar...I can't recall if the door was inside a home, or outside by a cellar...it was just a door with stairs leading down....

At the bottom of the stairs was dim lighting by a couple of lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, and I could hear the dripping of water somewhere, but don't recall ever seeing a sink or water spigot or drain...but the drip drip drip of water seemed to echo throughout the basement.  It also had a very musty icky smell, moldy, gross...

I remember those sights and smells and details so vividly...Also downstairs in this place were men.  Four men, five if you count Ronnie.  One was his father, and the other three were men I had seen before, men from the island.   There were talking softly and drinking alcohol.  When Ronnie and I entered the basement,  they were very polite.  One even handed me a drink and told me to relax.  Trouble was, I did not remember them as abusers, just men I had seen at parties on the island....but two of these men, where the same men that Sophee wrote about...so they knew me, they requested me....I was not afraid, I figured it was another one of Ronnies deals...He dealt drugs on the side...

At the time, my hair was long, past the middle of my back and it was blonde, so I must have been around 17...beach hair.  One man walked over to me and took my drink from my hand, and with his other hand he grabbed my hair from the back of my head and yanked it hard up, then down, pushing me to my knees...then he forced his dick into my mouth, I wanted to bite him...from behind me, another man started rubbing his dick against my upper back around my neck area,  another man stuck his hand in my shorts and forced his fingers up my vagina...I was being gang banged by all three....but strangely, they never fucked me...I guess Ronnie instructed them to do whatever they wanted except penial penetration.  The father never touched me, in fact, I don't think he even watched, he must have left the area and went back upstairs.

After it was over, the men retreated back upstairs, even Ronnie went with them, leaving me, in a heep, filthy, stinky and gross and woozy (whatever was in the drink made me feel fuzzy) on the concrete cold floor.  He switched the lights off and shut the door.

I was alone, in the dark, with the awful smells, and the fucking drip drip drip of water I could not find....my skin felt like it was crawling with bugs, and I scraped and scraped my arms and legs to get the bugs off, but there were no bugs, it was the drugs...I had scratches all over me...hallucinating.

I don't know how long I was down there, maybe long enough for them to think I have thought over everything that had just happened and I would be silent...for my own safety.  Ronnie flipped the lights on, and came back downstairs, he led me back up and to the bathroom so I could wash the stench and semen off my body...

He acted like nothing ever happened...we watched TV, laughed and joked...that memory was already taken from me by the time the shower ended....I never spoke of it, I was silent, because the alters took that horrible experience away from me....I was the perfect person for their horrible sex games, as I literally forgot them...so I think they must have thought, because I don't say anything ever to anyone, not even Ronnie, that I must enjoy it somehow...I was complisent in their crimes because I was silent...I was the perfect accomplice...

Because I already had DID by then,  the horrible things they did, were erased from my memory, every time, and only the good memories of that time were all I had...

I do not know how many times I had to go to that basement...my dream was a singular time, but, I have written about "blood" covenants and Satanic stuff in a room, with dripping water...so maybe this was the same room....but I have no ideal where this place was....

I do not know how many other fucking shit memories are associated with this place....but, I am so fucking sick to my stomach...

You read and hear about sex trafficking all the time in the news and think, "omg, how horrible"...but this has been going on since man began...I was probably Ronnies first minor to sexually offend and sex traffic...I truly think I was his first step into pedophilia.   Maybe not.

Ronnie is now in a prison, a mental hospital for the criminally insane, never to see the light of day again...he is serving multiple sentences for sex trafficking across state lines, and raping and assaulting children as young as 9 yrs old....BUT HE IS STILL ALIVE...HE AND MY MOTHER ARE THE ONLY TWO ABUSERS LEFT TO TORMENT ME WITH EACH BREATH THEY TAKE.

With each new memory, it brings up the rage in me...I was taken advantage of because of a mental condition,  how many other victims are hurt because of a disability?  

I am so sad, and I feel so sick inside...I am beyond embarrassed by what happened to me...I blame my mother and horrible abusive step father for grooming me to become a sex slave later...I had no control, because I had no memory...but are they really to blame?  Or am I to blame for being so weak....

Now I have another memory, just what the fuck am I suppose to do with it?  fuck

S, 7