The Fear Factor

    When I was 7 years old, I received a new brother because my father married a woman with two sons. Her oldest son was the same age as I. We played "show me yours, I'll show you mine" when we were 8. The only problem was, after I showed him mine, he refused to show me his.

      As we became teenagers, he was very intimidating. When I was preparing to go to school and brushing my teeth or something, he would barge into the bathroom and scream at me to get out. If I refused, he would shove me out or hit me. I became very afraid of him. I witnessed him beating up our younger brother a lot of times. He also beat up a lot of our classmates. Some of the classmates he beat had to go to the hospital. These actions increased my fear of him.

    Our mother was afraid of him, also. One day, when they were arguing, he was so mad, he crushed a coffee mug in his hand. Our mother ran out the door in fear. She said she was leaving and never coming back, but my little brother and I begged her to come back.

    When we were about 14 years old, I witnessed my brutal brother attacking a girl down the street, ripping her clothes off and raping her in her own home. I wanted to tell, but I was afraid he would hurt me.

    A year or two later, he raped me. He said if I told, he would kill me. He also warned that it would be a slow and painful death! I was very afraid of him, but I would not tell my dad because they would get into fist fights. These fights were so violent, they would hit each other with 2 X 4's and I was afraid he would kill my dad.

      I eventually became his sex slave. He would come in my room and rape me anytime he wanted. He came into my bedroom when ever our parents were not home. If I was not compliant and completely dossile, he would beat me up. He only hit me where it did not show. He would punch me in the stomach, kick me in the head or my vagina, beat my back until it was black and blue or burn me with a cigarette. When my parents went out I would physically shake with fear and dread. Soon, he began to bring his friends over and allowed them to rape me for a fee. I was raped by about a half a dozen different teenage boys. He would watch and laugh. He kept the money they paid him. I was petrified to tell anyone.

    This is the first time I have ever spoken of it. Now I am 45 years old. Even now, when I have sexual relations with my husband, I feel afraid. I am always crying on the inside, in my mind, "Please don't beat me, I will obey you. I swear to God I will obey you, sir." I never say that out loud because it would crush my husband as he has never hurt me or even tried to. But my brother and his brutality is always lurking in my mind.

    All my life I have had nightmares of being raped by my brother and his friends. I can't turn it off. The fear, the guilt, the shame. Mostly, the fear that if I ever tell anyone I will be beaten senseless or to death.

    When my husband was in the military, I had nightmares of being raped by his co-soldiers with him laughing and holding a leather belt above my head, threatening to beat me if I disappointed the men. I don't understand these feeling. My husband has never hurt me or even threatened me.

    Why do I continue the have these dreams? Will it ever end?