Why I loved being abused

As usual a family member of mine went crazy. A time earlier he ran after me while threatening to make pictures of me while I was nude. A different moment he hit us or said how worthless I or the rest of us were. Seeing his dark eyes full of hate made me feel horrified. When I got the chance, I went back to my bed and get some rest. While thinking on what happened, I feel a cold chill coming from the inside of me. What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with him? Why don’t he wants us?  

I never received these answers, but when I was younger I did found my angels. When I was sad or hurt, I could get in touch with them. I craved so much for love and acceptance and I received that from them. My angels, my friends.

 

One a day after I got home from school, I went on the internet as I usually did. I went on a chatbox of a website that was about a cartoon, primarily aimed at younger girls like me. So often there were a lot of girls on there and a very few boys as well. However after I while I got in touch with some older men. We talked a bit and introduced ourselves, so it didn’t took long before we knew each other’s age and location.

  

‘How are you, honey?’ asked one of the guys. I had a bad day and didn’t felt so well, but I just pretended that I was fine. He said the same. It didn’t took long before he got curious how I looked in real life. I described it and told me that I must be beautiful. I couldn’t remember in my entire life that someone ever told me that. I got really touched by those words and was very willingly to show him pics of me, as he asked to do so.

  

My cravings to be loved and to be beautiful was always there. And I finally found people who were willing and able to give me that. After I while I did sexual acts in return for their attention. That made me feel miserable and disgusted, but I was willing to do that for them in return. I didn’t wanted to lose them. 

  

For me being paid for sex is like hearing again men telling me that I’m beautiful and that I’m able to be loved and enjoyed. Although I never enjoy any of the sexual acts I perform or execute, I do still enjoy the positive attention. 

 

The people who know my story always react negative to the men who abused me when I was a child by using my bad circumstances. And of course it’s illegal to use a child that way. But when I tell people the other abuse I endured as a child, I wonder why people usually don’t get upset by that. Was my family member not equally or even more bad than the people who used me? And what about the health professionals I talked to, didn’t they had to do more to build some trust? Or shouldn’t I had more rights as a child to decide what was best for me?

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