"Innocence Gone"

"Beginning Of my Trauma"

Kalamazoo, MI, regular day, summertime, kids outside playing with one another. A nine years old me just enjoying my arts and crafts in my bedroom making different necklaces and bracelets. I remember feeling the brisk of the cool breeze from the open window wearing one of my favorite outfits. I wore a sandy cream t-shirt tucked into my long loose skirt with brown and tan colors. My mom was at work and my two brothers were outside enjoying the good weather. That left me and stepdad, normally this event would not be odd until I heard his deep raspy voice call me from upstairs behind my parents closed door. "Shay!" he shouted as usual from the top of the staircase.

I quickly sat down on my unfinished bracelet and hurried to the bottom of the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I saw a tall dark figure wearing a dirty white tank top and gym shorts, known as "Abba". "Come up here I need you to do something." Following his instructions as usual, I went upstairs. After entering the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that led to my parents' room. I could remember intense light blinding my vision following the deceitful question “what were you doing?” I smiled as I replied that I was making bracelets and necklaces. 'Oh thats nice', he said with a grin. 'How I wish the prideful feeling was all I was going to feel. From a smile to a smirk, he got up and turned off the lights.

Analyzing the previous comments, I thought to myself, 'Okay,' I can leave now, little did I know the lights were not the only things that went dark. From standing in front of me he told me to “bend down on your knees in front of me.” (As kids were taught to obey your elders but not only them your parents as well and with that I did as he asked. From making bracelets to now on my knees his evil voice told me “put this in your mouth” and i did. Sometimes the people we trust the most are the ones who quickly take advantage of us. From there he then placed both his hands on the side of my head slowing motioning my face back and forth.

Blindly I was confused on what was going on and what is this that I am doing. As minutes passed, he told me to go into my brothers room, once inside he then directed me to get on the bed and turn around. So I did. I could feel my pink or brown dress being lifted while underwear be forcefully pulled down. With confusion and fear I moved and looked back at him, and he told me to”TURN BACK AROUND.” TURN BACK; I could now feel an abnormal pressure and pain against my anal region. (May God protect the weak and unfortunate, through my pain God has never left me.) I could remember wanting to scream and cry out but in baritone words he said “Everything is fine just relax.”

As the extreme pain continued my child innocence yelled out for help as I could feel the tears slowly fall down my cheek and onto the pillow. In class, remember waiting for the bell to ring, how minutes could feel like hours and seconds like minutes? This is what I felt like as a lifetime has not passed. (Bell rings!) Eventually he stopped, as he pulled his short up, he instructed me to clean myself up. "What just happened don't tell anyone because your mom will be really mad at you and I will have to give you a whopping." Strikings and whoopings in this household were anything but rare and more intense. His favorite object of choice would be an extension cord, but he'd accept anything from a fist to a sword. With that thought all my little voice could say was “okay.” Have you ever had a dream and you wake up an wondered is this real? this is how I felt.

As I ran down the stairs into my room barely being able to sit on bed all i thought think about is what just happened. I remember being confused on what he did and why was I hurting so bad. Growing up with the person I call father, something did not feel right, but at that time he was my protector and parent with the thoughts of “no he wouldn’t mean to hurt me.” With my first experience of anxiety my heart began to race, my mouth became dry, but something else also unusual, blood in my underwear. While changing my underwear I could hear my brothers coming inside and my mother pulling up from work. As evil stares glared to me across the room from my stepdad everyone in the kitchen was talking and moving around.

My mom called me to help her prepare dinner as my stepdad auditioned as the prefect father watching TV. The rest of the day was normal but this was the last day of my innocence and first of many unfinished bracelets. -My name is Shayanna Allen, and I suffer with PTSD, Anxiety and Depression from Sexual, Mental and Physical abuse. Follow my Mental Health Support Facebook group called

“The Garden Of Silent Roses”. https://www.facebook.com/groups/609099066769673/

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