Well, first off, I don't remember much.  Just a few very vivid images, a lot of crying and watching myself from the corner of the room. My abuser was my oldest brother.  I was 9 and he was 14 or 15 at the time.  

The most of one incident I remember is when my 2 other brothers were playing videogames and were completely engrossed in it.  My 3rd brother (the oldest) put a blanket on top of me on his bed and told everyone in the room he was just going to massage me.  I was just still, unmoving and very confused.  He touched me and made me touch him.  I had no clue what to do so he literally had to grab my arm and make my tiny little hand touch his p****.  I don't believe my other brothers were involved.  Just the oldest.  

Another time, I remember us making a massage train to rub each others shoulders and that same brother would sit behind me, but instead of rubbing my shoulders, he'd rub elsewhere.  I remember feeling so uncomfortable that I yelled, "Switch!" and we all turned in the opposite direction.  I just wanted him to stop touching me.   

I have a memory of me watching myself from the ceiling of my room.  I was just crying and in pain laying in my bed hoping someone would help me.  

The last memory I have is when I was bent over the bathtub and I was just crying.  I remember just thinking, please don't touch my butt.... please don't.. Nothing after that.  

My mom was sexually abused as a teenager by her cousin and she would always tell me that if anything happened like that to me then she would murder that person.  That's why I never told her.  I honestly believed that she would kill my brother or hurt herself when she realized that all the steps she took to protect me was actually what kept me in an abusive situation.  I sacrificed my sanity and wellbeing for my family's mental and physical security.  

I did confront him about a year later.  I said, "I remember what you did to me. I forgive you." and then ran out of the room.  I did not know what true forgiveness meant at that time because I still didn't realize how his actions would effect me in the long term.  Later that day, I found an 8 page letter underneath my pillow asking me not to tell anyone. I only read it once and I still have that letter today.  I hid it underneath my dads pillow one time but chickened out and took it back before he found it.  He said in the letter that he abused me for about 3 months over the summer break.  So I know there is a lot else that happened, but I don't know if I'll ever remember it all.  Part of me really does want to know.  Both of my parents worked so my oldest brother was in charge of us.  

A few years later when I got into high school my cousin told me that my brother sexually abused her too.  She's maybe 2 1/2 years older than me.  I was so disgusted and angry, but with myself.  I let him have his life because I didn't care enough about myself to tell the truth, but then when my cousin revealed that to me, instead of telling someone, I just caved in on myself.  I swear I disassociated for a year straight.  I always thought that I could fight for someone else, but I didn't for her.  I felt so guilty.  I  recently apologized to her.  She, being a wonderful person, said I had nothing to be sorry for.  How could I help her when I didn't know how to help myself.  

It was around high school aged that I became s*******.  I thought if I ever got the opportunity to give my life in place for someone else's, I'd take it.  The imagery in my mind mostly consisted of drowning while saving someone else from drowning, pushing a kid out of the way from a moving vehicle (and getting hit myself) or (GOD FORBID!!))) saving my friends from an active shooter situation by charging the guy so everyone else could escape.  For most of my high school career I was just waiting for the universe to let me die.  It never did.  I was desperate for relief and always on edge. I could never enjoy any moment fully.  I feel so bad for past me.  She really just needed a hug and protection.  I'm so glad nothing like that ever happened. 

There's more to the abuse from the parental side of things.  My mother never got over her trauma and deep dived into religion.  Antigay rhetoric, there are demons in the house, God has chosen us to write his teachings, saving non perishable foods, etc.  Just use your imagination and you'll guess my life from that perspective.  The worst being my mother told me when a certain someone became president, the end of the world would happen. She already had a plan for my dad to shoot us all and then k*** himself so we won't have to go through the tribulation.  My mom, desperate to keep me from being touched, never let me do much of anything, but my brothers could do as they pleased.  I just saw her overprotectiveness as a means of torture and I hated her for it. 

There are more specific stories but that was basically my life in a nutshell.  Oh the sexual abuse all happened the summer I got rabies and my dogs had to be put down because of it.  Then 9/11 happened 2 months later.  I was literally in the hospital getting my weekly anti-rabies vaccine when I saw the video of the towers the first time. So it was a very tough summer for me... and the US as a nation.  

soooooo there it is.