CW: CSA, Violence, Miscarriage,

“All children are born with wings, the world is full of people who try to tear them off.”
-Fredrik Backman

I miss him sometimes. I miss all the men I’ve had experiences with, in some way. he stuck with me the most. We met when I was almost fourteen, fresh out of inpatient for the 2nd time and exploring the Internet. I’ve had an interest in mature ideas and relationships since I was very young, i wonder sometimes if something happened to me in the short time I was in foster care. He was 34, homeless, kind, and I felt bad for him. He had bouts of depression I helped with; gave him access to my debit card at first, he ran it into negatives. I made the money from craft fairs.

He complimented me in a way that made me think I was beautiful, something worth giving such “kind” words to. I’ve been chubbier than average my whole life, tried to make myself smaller physically/emotionally. Instead of wishing me to be tinier, like most older men, he was a feeder. I got type 2 diabetes at fifteen, he had no concern for my health even after I needed to stay in the hospital for three days, now that I think of it.

we met when was about to turn fifteen. summer. he brought a picnic, i thought it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me. I lied, told him I wasn’t a virgin. he was my first time. It hurt, and I bled. The 2nd time he wanted to do anal, and I bled again. he drove several states over multiple times from 14-17, was living in his car until he could get a place by me, which he did. I would call off work to go see him.

he wanted to abuse me in some way every time; I lied to myself, told him I liked it. I didn’t want to lose him. I knew deep down he wouldn’t want me if I didn’t meet his sexual needs. I got whipped, choked til I passed out. He would attach studs to a paddle so he could hit me in various places. gave me outfits to wear +tied rubber bands around my breasts until I cried and I was bleeding. punched +slapped me, gave me a black eye once hitting me in the face with a pan and I had to lie and say I fell down at work to my parents. He told me I was perfect, that I would be an amazing wife and mother.

Then I became the latter, if just for a moment. I was seventeen, it was a beautiful fall day. It was ruined by two disgusting lines on a test I pissed on. My entire world crashed down. When I got pregnant, I realized how fucking terrifying it would be to have a real life with him. I’d be homeless too; he’d make me work/take care of him. A life of terror and misery for me and more importantly, our children he’d force me to have, flashed before my eyes +I threw up again for the third time that day. I couldn’t even function. But I stayed with him +acted overjoyed.

I did drugs. I kept smoking and vaping as I had been doing before. I’d already dabbled in psychedelics. all to try and get rid of the child. There was no way I could get to a clinic, mine were helicopter parents. despite being terrified of turning into my birth mother, I did every substance I could get my hands on, I drank pennyroyal tea +lots of alcohol.

It was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life. My sweet baby. I cant hate her. She wouldve been amazing. Untainted by the world +able to become anything. All of those ideas and dreams that formed while I had her for seven and a half weeks, flushed down the toilet. She was so tiny. I wanted to die, and it felt like I was dying as I sat on the toilet and gulped down a couple of tylenol, then an adderall, which id grown an affinity for. He was devastated, but he could never be as devastated as me.

Then my mom found my weed, a couple grams. Not even enough for two blunts. Went to rehab and learned about drugs, I heard horror stories. But for some reason I heard how a girl was so fucked up she couldn’t function or even stand, and I thought that sounds like a fucking vacation. Queue more drugs problems until nineteen. I ghosted him after rehab.

Now there’s an active case against him 🙌 hopefully he’ll go away for a long time. The case made me break, though. Hearing his name from the other end of a phone from the detective after months of pushing him out whenever he popped into my head shattered me. I’d never known the full scope of what happened to me. I separated that part of my life from my “normal” life. Now I don’t know how I’ll ever get past it.