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The scariest moment of my relationship of 18 years was the moment that I no longer felt afraid to die, I was begging for it to happen. I had been with my husband for 18 years and experienced physical, emotional, verbal, and financial abuse and had been brought to the brink of death on more than one occasion. My head had been cracked open, experienced strangulation on a daily basis and had lost consciousness at his hands. I was beyond damaged emotionally and physically and my ability to take much more was completely gone. I wanted him to finally succeed. I didn't want to live this life anymore. And then it dawned on me. I have three children with this man and if he were to kill me, what would become of my girls? I knew then that my girls would face a rough life if I were gone. I brought them into this world and they needed me to fight back for them. That was the realization that I needed to get out of there so I packed a single bag for the four of us and I fled. What I want others to realize is that the aftermath can be just as difficult as the relationship. It is true what people say. You do realize who you can REALLY count on when you are in crisis. I mistakenly believed that I had more than enough support in my friends and family. I was wrong. My network evaporated as soon as I needed them. It has been a tough road for my girls and I, but I am grateful everyday that I am here with them. I was, and still am, absolutely determined to, not only live, but thrive. For myself and for my girls. It is a scary path to be on but please recognize that you are not alone. There is always someone that cares and can begin to understand. You've made it this far. How far can you take yourself in this life? Live the life that you were meant to and don't let anybody else take away your sparkle.

I don't know how to write my story, there are so many part to it so many different forms of abuse and trauma and yet here I am thinking this is wrong because my abuse wasn't always physical or constant. Because I survived and people have been through worse than I. I have never shared alot about my story or past, the things I've witnessed have never been confessed to more than one counsellor because my first counsellor asked to study me because they didn't understand how as a suicidal teen I had survived and not killed myself because the stuff I had experienced should of made it impossible for me not to kill myself. Since then I've kept things quiet even though as I've gotten older I've discovered even more trauma surrounding my childhood. I am a child who was never wanted not by my adoptive parents and barely by my biological parents. I am a child who's been raped, abused, and used. A child that grew up in house of animals of which I was responsible for. When I finally left nobody believed me, then they did a house check they came and apologized they told me they thought I was exaggerating but when they saw they said I had under exaggerated it was worse than they pictured and worse than I had told them. I was taking care of 7 dogs, 21 chickens, and over 100+ cats and kittens in a standard family home, I was doing the laundry for a family 4 plus myself, the dishes and house cleaning. Id stay up all night with the cats about to give birth and help them deliver their kittens, then get my sibling lunches ready and wake my parents before I left for school in the morning...... I think this is enough for my first time, I'll write more and tell my story over time slowly I will tell my story

Date 2 guys 4 hours - My boyfriend at the time was nice and treated me amazing and he was so gentle with me and that stopped after this happened. I left to go over to his house which was a regular thing i was doing as we were dating at that time. His dad was home and so was he. And when i got in we went to the lounge and put on a movie. He paused the movie then he told me to take off my shirt. I told him it was a stupid idea since his dad was home and there is no way I would do it as I didnt want to and didnt feel comfortable. He hit me. He hadnt hit me before he was always gentle. But i got up and walked very quickly to the door to get out but it was locked. I went to the lounge to tell him to unlock it, then his dad walked in. He asked what was going on I said I wanted to leave. Then he got up from the sofa and grabbed my chest and said "your not leaving" i froze i didnt know what to do. He then said we were going up to his room. I couldn't refuse. I froze. I was scared i didnt know what to do. We went upstairs. He was holding my wrist as we went up the stairs it was bruised so badly. We went into his bedroom and he hit me again and again and was just screaming at me. His dad came in and locked the door. He stopped screaming and said take your shirt off or I will fucking hit you again. His dad was behind me and ripped my shirt off. He stopped screaming at me moved closer to me and put his hands around my throat strangling me and shoved me onto the bed. I had passed out because I had hit my head on the bed frame or wall in not too sure. I woke up to his dad ontop of me while I had my legs and wrists tied to the bed frame so I couldn't move. He said this is how it is done and then something in a different language. Then I felt a push. He was rapeing me. I didnt know what to do. I was frozen it hurt so much. They took turns rapeing me. Touching my chest fingering me and I remember them recording it all because they had a stand with a phone and i wasnt sure what it was at first. It hurt so much it is all blurry since I was crying from pain and how scared I was. I remember he was ontop of me while squeezing my chest and moaning while his dad was holding my legs down since I was trying to get out then after he finished they turned me over. I was too weak to fight and then they were reaching under me and grabbing my tits while rapeing me and taking turns. They stopped because they were both clearly exhausted. So they started to touch me instead. One was touching me while the other fingering me. I was in so much pain. I remember passing out alot but i remember every single part. It lasted for 4 hours. They then started to beat me and said if I told anyone they would show everyone the video, show my friends my teachers and people I knew. I remember after one of my lessons I had a huge panic attack and fell into my teachers classroom and started to break down infront of her. I told her everything. And showedher the threats he had been sending me and she saw the video. She helped me calm down then told me she had to tell safeguarding and the police . She helped me calm down and continously checked on me every day. Then she told me she was moving country . The Last thing she told me was I have to tell someone when I was struggling. My school safeguarding team didnt believe me and looked at me like I was crazy they had seen the video he had told them it was AI . Not one of them believed me because he was the 'nice kid who never got into trouble'. Every day at school i would see him he is in 2 of my classes. He got no punishment. He would wait at the end of lesson and pack up slowly or depending on how quickly i was packing up to walk behind me when we were leaving. He knew what he was doing. Once i was lining up outside my classroom and i felt someone grab my behind the corridors it was him. My school did nothing about it. The safeguarding team are ALL WOMEN . Not one of them believed me. When I had told them I was struggling with food. They checked on me once and said "have you eaten". They checked on me once. I showed them I struggled with self harm. Nothing. They didnt care. Later on that week I attempted. It didnt work. It was my last cry for help and the school did nothing. To this day he has had no punishment and I am still struggling. I just needed help and justice and he is still in my classes and still touching and assaulting me.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.