The Day My Freedom Began

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By Melody Tyme

A day of freedom for all; including us survivors. No, we may never forget what has happened to us, but we will live on. We have gone through some of the toughest times in our lives, but we still made it. Many stopped the abuse by telling someone; an adult, parent, teacher, friend or another authority figure. Others kept quiet and lived with it, hording the secrets and surviving by running away or moving out.

None of us have done anything wrong., we are the victim...the survivor.

What have I survived? How did I do it?

I was a quiet, 12 year old girl, that always had a smile on her face, but a secret deep inside. If I told this secret many would die, or so I was told.

(Why do the offenders always threaten the victim? If you tell I'll hit you. You'll regret it. You'll be sorry. It's all your fault. You made me do it. Do they really get off on this? Does it make them stronger?)

The day of my freedom began during a test. I was called to the office to meet my saviors, they were dressed in regular clothes, they were detectives. (Now imagine a 12 year old being called out of a test to go to the office. Getting to the office and the principal approaching to tell you detectives wanted to speak with you.) I wondered what I had done, but knew nothing. Deep inside I thought it's because of my secret, I felt guilty. Fear nearly overwhelmed me; hands got sweaty and goose bumps formed on my arms, as I walked up to meet them.

These men were nice, kind, and careful. Knowing my secret, they watched how they treated me. They needed me to tell, but how could I? I steered clear of any subject relating to my secret. After hours of sitting with them I finally opened up, all it took was one picture.

I sifted through photos identifying all the people in them, some of myself and another of my cousin. There were pictures of me posing in front of a Joshua tree, abandoned buildings, and on a bed. The one that did it though was of my baby sister (1 or 2 years old) posing on the bed. Another of her crying. I saw myself in her, I knew they'd make her do what I had to do. I could not let this happen, I had to stop it. I loved her with all of my heart, as if she were my own.

I told them everything. My mother and her boyfriend were arrested that day. That week was quite busy with lawyers, detectives and counselors. I met several times with my own lawyers the next few weeks. I was the key person that would be able to testify against my mom and her boyfriend.

The day of court arrived; my father stood beside me holding my hand. He felt so guilty about never knowing what had been going on during those weekend visits that I had with my mother. I was called up to testify. I'll never forget the pain in my heart and the fear as they brought in my mother and her boyfriend. They sat diagonal from the stand. I was terrified that at any moment they would jump up and kill me. My hands shook terribly as I told the story of how I had been molested. In the end they were both put in handcuffs and sent to prison.

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I am a survivor and have lived through all to tell my story. I am married with two children. Happy and yes I do have nightmares from the past sometimes but I think all survivors do. I no longer fear everyone, I trust my husband and feel that I have overcome many obstacles.

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