My name is Thomas and I am now 27 years old. I have never told anyone my story until now. Memories that I thought I had buried and forgotten are beginning to surface, in my dreams, in certain things that people do, or even just a door opening. Now I will take the first step and turn around and face my past by writing this to you.

 
The first ten years of my life where spent in a small town south of Stuttgart, Germany. Those years I remember quite vividly. They are so clear, I can almost tell you the color shirt I was wearing on every single day. Anyhow, what I remember most was my father. He was a stern man with a short fuse, violent demeanor and a fist that was as quick as the words that could fly out of his mouth when he was upset. Quite frequently I fell victim to his rage, these acts leaving scars that are visible today, for minor infractions that young children often make. Those years I really did not question whether it was right or wrong, nor did I wonder if other boys went through the same thing. My mind was focused on avoiding my father whenever I could. 

My life would drastically change the year of my eleventh birthday. My father had been seeing this woman from the States. And two months before I turned eleven, they married. Never once before did he introduce me to her. He just brought her home. She loved alcohol and was intoxicated nearly all day. But I was glad that she was there though she was a stranger. For she kept my father busy and the beatings I took seemed to all but stop. And one day, my father came up to me and told me we were moving to the States. I had never been so terrified. I had heard many stories about America and it's people. I begged my father not to take me with him, in return I ended up overnight in the hospital. So I was forced to go with them. I was going to be thrown into a land that was rumored evil and a land with a language I knew nothing of. 

Well after a month there. My parents began to fight constantly over things I could not understand, since now they fought in English. That is when the beatings returned. After a fight, he would almost hunt me out and vent all his rage on me. My stepmother sometimes witnessed this but did nothing to help me. Soon, she too began to fall victim to him as the stress of America and money began to put weight on my fathers shoulders. I only made it worse for my private tutor was throwing me into further confusion on the English language. This made him hit me harder. 
One day my father brought home a friend from work, whom I will call Dale. They soon began to hang out more often, and they began to drink more heavily then before and before they drank heavily enough. And after witnessing my father beat me, he took it upon himself to vent his rage on me as well. All the while, not understanding what I had done. Not being able to turn to anyone, except my tutor who began to get fed up with me as I to him.

Then one night while my father and Dale were partying, Dale told my father something that all fathers make their sons do in America. He called me over and then backed me into a corner. For the next twenty minutes, I lost my childhood as Dale forced me to perform or*l s*x on him, while my father watched from behind, not caring what was being done to me. Afterwards, I was now sitting in the corner rocking myself while softly crying over what had just happened. My father came up to me and proceeded to beat me until I swore to him that I would not tell a soul what had just happened. 

This began to happen more frequently. A few times, my stepmother walked in, but she just glanced and went in her room. My world was crashing down on me. My tutor said I was making no progress and that I was heading towards failure. I couldn't bring myself to eat, I began to become drastically thin, By now I am twelve. One day, after I came home after my first time ever in an American public school, my father, Dale and a few other men were there, waiting for me. To this day, I still get terrified when I think about it. That night was the longest night of my life. They all took part in beating me, r*ping and molesting me. To make it worse, it was videotaped in which I would later find out Dale sold for some odd thousands of dollars. I completely shut down from school, from people, from everyone. I would go to school in a daze and in no time, I was the rejected student, the one whom everyone picks on. My teachers labelled me a failure and began to stop trying to help me. I would go to school and then go home, terrified at who might be there when I opened the door. 

The nights became long as insomnia overtook me, I would sit on my bed, waiting for the handle to turn and my father to enter. Seventy-five percent of the time it was. My stepmother also retreated into her own world. She did not come to my aid when my anguished cries of pain filled the house. She just turned her music up louder.

 
When I hit high school, I was a wreck. First chance I got to fight, I took it. All the rage would come pouring out in every fight, allowing me to win most of them. I soon got the reputation of a hoodlum and someone to avoid. Everyone did too. One day, something in me snapped and I attacked a teacher as he was yelling at me for not paying attention. I was expelled from school. I was also tethered to my house. This made me more accessible to my father and his friends. Only now, they would lock me in the basement and came down whenever they wanted me. I was just an animal to them now. 

One day, after a long night of being used, they in a drunken stupor forgot to lock the basement door. I ran out of that house and ran down the highway, I kept running and running until I was nearly dead from exhaustion and thirst. I was then rescued by this man and woman on their way home to their farm. They took me and I begged them to let me work for them. After a while they agreed and I could stay out in the barn as long as I worked. It was there I buried my past and started over, weeks after my sixteenth birthday. Now I have an apartment in medium sized city. I have tried to have girlfriends but it never lasts. They begin to question my past and run right into the steel enforced concrete wall I had erected. I cannot keep friends for this reason also. I realize that I have a long way to go. I just wish one day, I could shut off my bedroom light to go to sleep. I wish I could openly discuss my past with the woman who will carry my children. 

Thank you for letting me submit this story. I feel I have taken the first tiny step in a long journey. I hope one day, I will see my first victory in my whole life.