Hello everyone. Still a little new here, but I'm glad to find this forum. This is something I've needed to talk about for a long time... Years ago, when my brother and I were little, we used to share a room, both at my mother's house and my dad's house (our parents have been divorced since I was 5). Never in my life have I felt I had adequate privacy or space. Always fighting over territory, issues with stuff going missing, general sibling stuff. To help myself a bit I would sleep with my Nona. At first I just didn't like being alone and I hated my brother, so it seemed like a good trade off. But then I began to need that bed and other person for safety. I was only able to sleep with my Nona at my dad's house because she lived there. At my mother's house was a different story, I had no where to hide and no one to go to. My mother was always so frustrated with me, I never wanted to go to bed and would throw tantrums EVERY night. I'm guessing she got sick of it and started ignoring it all, the crying, the screaming for mom, everything. I would sit outside her door and wail, she would do nothing. Eventually I had to go to my room, I was able to utilize a small back room that was used for exercise equipment, not exercising. Little did I know having my own room didn't protect me at all. I was paranoid about every little noise, light and movement during the night. I could never sleep, apparently neither could my brother. He would come into my room, sit on the bed and at first we would just joke around and play and I thought it was great, he was easing my nervousness during the night. Then we started playing different games, where I was some sleezy side character to his childhood roleplay. I felt strange about it, but since it was in movies I thought, it's no different. We played these games during the day too, so I thought it was "socially acceptable" and my mother never seemed bothered by the way we'd play sometimes. One evening, when my mother was in the bath, things got a little close on the couch. He actually offered me things as a reward to touch me. I didn't know it was wrong. He knew I wanted the things he had, I was always sentimental and attached to stuff. Sometimes he would even take back the things he gave me and claimed "I never said you could have this" I felt so angry. How could he do something like that to me? I wanted to break whatever it was that he offered me. But I knew I would just get in trouble, I would never be able tell anyone the truth to why the object was be broken. I was stuck. The night visits turned into something I didn't like anymore, but I felt I was in a place where I couldn't say anything. I still stayed in our room at my dad's place because my dad would read us to sleep, I remember he read us The Hobbit, I didn't was to miss that by going down to my Nona's bed. I usually sneeked down there after when everyone was in their places. One night my brother and I were watching tv in our room, my dad may have been out for the night or a few hours, I don't quite remember. All I wanted to do was watch some show about fish, I thought it was interesting and cool. He had other interests. I was desperatly trying to keep my attention at the tv and told him I didn't want him to do... that. He persisted. I felt increasing uncomfortable and got a feeling deep inside me that told me; this is wrong. I got off the bed, thought 'fuck the fish' and walked down the stairs to my Nona's bed. He was begging and bargaining as I was leaving but nothing stopped me from descending down those stairs. It wasn't over. He still came into my room at my mother's. I guess it wasn't late enough one night and my mother came to check on us, noticing my brother wasn't in his room she headed to my room to see where I was. She saw him in my room. She screamed, flipped out completely. She never could keep her shit together. My brother RAN out of the room with his tail between his legs. It. was. over. My mother yelled at me, I don't even remember what she said. All I did was hide under my quilt, I couldn't say a word, I didn't know what to say. I was in trouble, that's what I thought. I couldn't explain myself or anything that happened, it was my fault in my child mind. I stayed alone in my room for most of the night, under my blanket covered in tears, sweat and guilt. My mother talked to my brother that night, I don't know what about. He wasn't in trouble. This ordeal went on for a little over a year of my life, I can remember looking around my 4th grade classroom and thinking "I wonder if this happens with anyone else's brother?" "Is it something that's supposed to happen?". Later, maybe a few weeks, my mother was talking to him at the table about "how it works" and "how to please". I was horrified. Every little thing relating to sex upset me. We were watching tv as a family, brother and mother on "the" couch and me, alone, on the other couch. It was a program about art, an image of a topless woman poped up, I bolted to the tv and turned it off. They both yelled and asked "What's your problem?" I looked over at him, then her and slowly turned the tv back on hoping the image would be gone and never shown again. I couldn't believe they didn't understand WHY that was a bad image. Even to this day sexuality and nudity still bother me, for more reason than one, but this being the ultimate reason. I don't know what my mother told my dad. I remeber them having a conversation on the porch before we left to go to my dad's house. It lasted a while, I just wanted to go. The next day my dad sat me down. I felt the tension in the air the moment he looked into my eyes. I remember the conversation lasting for hours, but I only remember one sentence. "Did he ever touch you". I could not say a word. When my dad asked me that question I froze completely, inside and out. I never ended up telling him and it just faded away... I held onto it for years, until a few month ago. I was the one that sat my father down and said to him; "He touched me" I burst into tears, tears I've been holding in for 13 years. I felt a relief - like when you're coming up from holding your breath under water - I can finally breathe again. Thanks for reading. It's pretty detailed, but there's still a lot more to my story. Feeling the relief is what I wanted to share most of all. You're not alone and there are people that you can talk to, remember that.