Abused-the demons with in

Did you ever have a secret you just couldn't keep....especially growing up, when a friend told you something special and asked you not to tell? Are you one of those people who had to tell someone, or did you keep the secret? Did it depend on what it was, or who was telling you?  I can't speak for anyone else, but for myself the secret was kept for so many years, that it caused me to live in a world with out light or life. I felt no one cared, who I was, what I was, or anything about me. When in fact it wasn't them  that didn't care, it was me! So afraid of letting someone know my secret, that it caused seclusion from the rest of the outside world, keeping out any ray of light that could spark a flicker of hope for acceptance from  any stranger. I didn't have any friends close enough to speak to of such things. I would intentionally drive them away so I could live with my torrid little secret and keep it around myself, like a cloak of protection. I often ask myself was it fear of not being accepted or fear that the secret would be told?
     There was one sibling that knew what was going on, in that house of horrors, not everything, ... but he knew of the severity of my beatings, as he was forced to watch. I am sure he felt every strike of the cord along with me, and out of love, he would feel my pain as it would cut into my skin with each blow. But  he never tried to intervene because he would be beaten too, if he even dared to come between the whip and me, his fate was sure to be matched with mine. My sibling was paid off with bikes, toys and special treats just to keep my step father informed on my goings and comings, and the dark secrets that covered our house, heaven help him if he should leave out any minor detail.   My step father was saving me for only himself and wasn't having any part of me having an interest in life beyond our doors. If I was caught as much as saying hello to someone, I would be beaten and grilled for hours. I was afraid to even look in the direction of a boy with out fear of beatings
    What kind of monster was this demon spawned creature that took away my freedom of a normal life. Nothing could ever be normal about that childhood, especially when Mother would ask why the bruises? He would come up with some fabricated story to make her believe I had been disobedient. Her responses were shallow at best, uncaring and unresponsive, other than to scream orders at me to get those dishes out of the sink!, or clean up that living room or I will give you more of the same!
       As I got older the abuse became an every day occurrence, I stopped asking God to save me, I stopped screaming, I stopped crying, I stopped feeling, and I stopped living. Inside me was empty, and the well of life had been drained from what used to be a happy go-lucky, thumb sucking little red head in curls, to a lifeless shell of a young adolescent, wishing death would come quickly. Every time I was attacked, I would have these out of body experiences, separating myself , just floating, no longer feeling the pains of my reality.
       The horrors never stopped and neither did my nightmares. For years my demons haunted me, and they still haunt me from his grave. I am learning little by little to let go, and forget the horrors, but scares run deep, and each waking day is a reminder of what was. Every time I see a child, hurt or abused, I feel the pain all over again. . Heaven help these little Children. Those that haven't survived there horrors, are now at peace, but what about those who have to live and endure and abusive life. Who will stand for them?
      I didn't give my childhood away,  it was stolen for me. Today, I am lighting another candle to light my soul, and I am slowly taking back my life.