An Innocent Child's Debut...

Mother's Wrath

Reader discretion is advised. 

You see it in movies, read it in the "Share Worthy" posts online, but you never think bad things will happen to you. But then again how could you even prepare yourself for something like this. This is a story about how I was forced into child pornography. 

Life was fun as a kid. My family moved all around the United States. Not staying long in one place made life exciting and fun. Think that's why I like nesting so much. Roles were a little reversed in our home. I was the one playing ball with my dad outside, helping fix my bike, going to the park, learning to drive at a young age before my feet could reach the peddles. Meanwhile my brother stayed inside with my mom. Cooking with her and playing on the Nintendo. We were very different you see. My dad and I and my mom and brother were as different as they come. But we still managed to have a good life. Given that we moved around a lot, I was a little reluctant to meet friends because I knew it wouldn't last. So my parents decided for me to put me in a volleyball camp in 4th grade. I hated it. All these pretty rich girls with their perfect blonde buns, and me in my frumpy not quite volleyball outfit and overrated perm my mom had to get me. I didn't fit in. But she was always doing stuff like that. Pushing me into things I just wasn't ready for. 

We had lived in 6 different states, 10 different towns and I lost track of how many different homes and apartments we stayed in. Then the unthinkable happened and we had a decision. Start over somewhere new again. Do we go to Louisiana, Texas, or California? Needless to say that was an easy choice for my brother and I. Can you say Disneyland? I wish I knew what I know now thought, that move to California was the worst decision of my life but I'll get to that. 

Warm sun, cool breeze, beautiful people everywhere, outdoor malls, palm trees everywhere. It was paradise. The day we moved out to California, I actually missed my first day of school. It was a little awkward being introduced the second day to a new school in a new state. And just being transparent... we had always lived in places where there wasn't much diversity. Wow what a cultural check I got. I was so much more out of place here. I remember sitting in algebra 1 class, freshman year and this girl, she was pretty sat diagonal from me. Long brown curly hair, looked wet but stiff, tan baggy dress pants, belt and a white tank top with white high top shoes. I didn't know at the time, but she was considered a "chola." She was my first friend in California. She would do my make up, tell me what to wear (always black and white), introduced me to her friends which I had no clue were part of a gang, but that's another story. I was so out of my element.

My parents pulled me out once I started noticing all the fights there between different races and even sexes. They put me in a brand new school. Beckman High. Here I felt a little more comfortable but not so much. My dad had been a wrestling coach my whole life, so he coached here. I was a stat for the first year and of course stuck with volleyball. Life was good, until we went to wrestle our rival team Irvine High. That's where he went to school. For privacy sake I will call him Bob. Bob went to school here, he wrestled on their team. But my dad being the caring man, he was chatted this guy up. I thought he was gross, that's mean but it's easy for me to say now knowing who he really was. He grew to like Bob, even sat with Bob's dad which was really his brother who just adopted Bob to bring him to the United States as a citizen from Jerusalem. Yeah I know, dramatic. This is only the beginning. 

Bob's "dad" grew close to my dad. So much so, we started going over to their house and their salon they owned to hang out. Bob liked me, he told his "dad" about it and my parents as well which is how "arranged dating" came into play. Let me reiterate, I hated him and thought he repulsive. So began the longest 8 months of my life. Did I mention I was 14-15? Aw yes, that part is important. Bob was a football player and a wrestler. He never stopped talking about working out, but I was too concerned with his nose which looked as if it married his upper lip, so spitting while talking was a gimme. And his hairiness. Yuck. I'm getting off track, apologies. 

Bob made moves on me all the time, but no was never okay. He would kiss me sticking his pizza tasting tongue down my throat and all I wanted to do was run away crying. I told my mom I hated him, she just didn't seem to care.

I remember my parents invited him over to our places for dinner and to watch Big Brother. I went in the kitchen which was open to the living room mind you, he followed and stuck his hand down the front of my pants and started to touch me. I began crying. Nothing about him was good. I could feel it, I just didn't know I wouldn't have a choice. Not too long after meeting his actual parents when they came to visit from Jerusalem did they go back. He wanted to go out and visit his family, finally a break. He wanted to talk everyday via Skype. Here's the thing, I had a MySpace back then and an AOL chat account but I wasn't allowed on. My mom kept all my passwords and never let me on alone. She would let me sit in the seat for awhile and look stuff up but never leave me alone. Only she was allowed on my social sites alone. Never saw the warning signs until it was too late. He would call, she would answer, then bring me in. This all happened at the desk in my parents' room at the foot of their bed. My dad was never in the room. Usually asleep in the chair in the living room after a long day of work. 

Things started to escalate he would ask me to send him a kiss over camera. Meanwhile this is a very important part of the story, during this next part of the story I need you to try and picture this. A large king bed, with a cheap desk at the foot, computer, camera on top, me sitting in the chair and my mom, sitting on the floor of the room against the bed. Just out of camera site. She read me lines to say, gave me play by plays. It was when he started asking me to have video sex with him when I realized something was wrong. 

I was 14, 15 tops, trying to avoid looking at a screen of my unwanted boyfriend's junk on camera, while my mother stayed in the room, a foot from my leg, telling me what to type him. She never left. He started asking me to show things. I asked her mom what do I do? She said, "Just do it, it won't cause any harm, he's all the way over there anyways, and he might be mad if you don't." So next thing I know, I'm being told to take off my pants and lay on my parents' bed revealing myself to a computer camera. He recorded the videos of him and I on camera. He said he would share them with his teammates if I ever left him. 

This happened a lot. It ruined me. I was a innocent volleyball playing life loving virgin... who was tainted by evil. After that finally ended with him, she would buy me underwear, sexy underwear, and try and get me to sleep with people. My mom even drove me places to "meet up" with guys. I couldn't believe what was going on. This led me down a awful slope of alcohol into my teens, drug use, and physically abusive relationships. 

Have I confronted her about what she did to me? Yes. Did she admit it? No. Did she go into online chat rooms as me using my photos talking about what color underwear I was wearing and print off the conversations to just store them in a file in the very back of my parents filing cabinet? Yes. 

When I told my dad, I had the expectation he would call the cops and have her arrested. But I forgot how good of an actress she was. Acting as a loving caring mom for so many years in front of so many eyes. She gave my dad an ultimatum, believe me and she would divorce him and move back with my grandma in Colorado. Or kick me out. My dad chose my mom over me. So I moved out with David, I would normally keep his name private but this man deserves a large prison sentence for what he did to me, but that is a story for another time. 


Never trust a book by its cover... You never know the pain within that wrote the story. 

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