My crazy fucked up childhood.

I was about seven years old at my Grandfather's farm in So-Cal. It was a family reunion because my Grandmother had just passed away from cancer.

I was running around with a bunch of my cousins, when my Uncle pulled me aside and told me that he wanted to show me something. I thought my Uncle was great at the time, he had two sons around my age, and he was always the coolest Uncle on my Mom's side.

He brings me inside the house, which was empty. Everybody was outside enjoying the festivities. He brings me down into the basement where all my Grandpa's tools were. He tells me to walk down the stairs, so I start to. All of the sudden he pushes me and I fall down the stairs, thus blacking out. When I woke up, I felt excruciating pain going up and down my spine. I was crying hysterically and trying to scream, but I was gagged. I turned my head to see that I was tied to a table naked. Next to me was my Uncle, brandishing a knife, explaining to me that if I ever told anyone, he would kill me. He gave me a warning and took a smaller knife and stabbed it into my left thigh on the inside and turned it.

He started untying me and I thought he was going to let me go, but he was just flipping me over onto my stomach. He proceeded to get on top of me and then violently rape me. I blacked out again from the pain and didn't wake up for quite some time.

When I finally came to, I was in the back seat of his car driving on the high way. He took the gag out of my mouth. I was still naked. There was gauze on my thigh where he stabbed me. My back still hurt and my ass was bleeding down my leg.

All of the sudden, he just starts laughing and looking at me. He then starts punching me in the face until I lose consciousness.

This all seems like a daze because I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. I woke up again inside a small house. I had no clue where I was, or who's house it was. When I opened my eyes, he sat on top of my chest for minutes at a time. My hands were bound by rope and my right ankle was handcuffed to a pipe.

I was down there for weeks. Every day, he would come into the room and rape me over and over until I went limp and lost consciousness. I would get food every two days. He would give me an opened can of baked beans and a bottle of water. The floor I was on was cold concrete, now stained with blood. Every once in a while, he would stand above me and urinate all over me while I cowered in the corner. He would shout at me to look up, and if I didn't he would kick the toe of his shoe into my testicles and anus. Other times he would take off his pants and sit on my face. It was the most vile thing I had ever experienced up to that point.

One day, he came into the room with a bottle of peroxide and proceeded to pour it into my mouth while choking my throat. I didn't swallow any of it, I just kept coughing and spitting it up. He started laughing again, like he had in the car when he had taken me. He then poured the rest of the bottle into my anus which caused me to wriggle and cry out in pain. He sprayed me down with a high pressured hose and left me there soaking wet.

I didn't get food for about three days, when he finally came into the room and handed me small Dixie cup of Cheerios and another cup of water. When I was about to pick up the Cheerios, he kicked them over onto the bloody concrete and threw his knee into my face. My whole face felt broken. I felt him unlock the handcuff from my ankle and then he turned me on my stomach for one last time. He took his time this time and it was the most brutal of all the rapes. He then left the room. I was so terrified. He had untied me and left the door wide open. The next thing I heard was a giant gun shot. I was frozen in fear the rest of the day and did not move a muscle. The next day, light entered the room through the open door. I slowly got to my feet and walked towards the door.

At the time I didn't know where I was, but I was in the water heater room in a basement. I walk out of the door and up the stairs cautiously. I turned to see my Uncle dead in his chair. He had committed suicide using his shotgun. I fell to the ground and started crying. I don't really know what I felt. It must have been an overwhelming sense of relief. I was almost crippled by how much I was crying. I slowly walked out of the house and collapsed into the street where the warm sun heated my broken body. I whistled for a cab and when it came near. The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare. But I thought, "Nah, forget it. Yo home to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8 And I yelled to the cabby yo holmes smell ya later. Looked at my kingdom I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.