WARNING  slightly bad grammar and graphic content if you have PTSD from child abuse this story many not be for you. 
Please try to be forgiving with my grammar if you do believe this story can help someone to hear. It was very hard to write down in the first place and I use speech to text for most of it.... it's just easier to get out and process that way I'm sorry.


Not for the faint of heart

This happened inside a little town called Yakima Washington alot of people have never heard of it but it's a small town just three hours south from Seattle. 
 I'll change the names in this story for privacy reasons and because this still scars me to this day .
The place that this happened it is slightly important because you have to understand it's a small town with a crime rate higher than Detroit.
This was also in the early 2000's
It's taking me a lot to write this and process it as an adult. There are probably lots of things I could have done differently to stop some of the abuse but I was a child thinking with a child's mind, an underdeveloped child's mind at that so please try not to judge me too harshly as you get into this.
 As a child my mother used to lock me in the basement for a long time , this caused alot of minor and major issues I wont get into because it's not quite the basis of what happened in this story .
I  will call myself Violet in this .
I was in the 7th grade at the time this happened and never had friends over my best friend at the time and still to this day was blind and not allowed to come over alot.

However at the alternative school I was going to there was a girl who I will just call Cara who went to my school .

At the time I thought she was my best friend but she was feeding into some of the abuse and issues in my home I desperate for friendship ignored this.
Cara also lived just a few houses down and her mother was kind and amazing to me .
Her mom even used to let me rant about Egypt and tell me I mattered so I thought cara was a true friend even after  this indecent  happened I would crave her toxic friendship until high school  becuse it was better then nothing at all.
I used to have the whole down stairs basement to myself and my moms boyfriend had an empty tool box I would put a sleeping bag in to play pharoah in.
I used to be very much in a fantasy  Egypt world most of the time due to neglect. 
 It's taken me a long time to get over it.
I'm sorry I'm so off track back to the point.
Cara and I where playing in the basement and she was pretending to the the God Anupu I speak kemetic and at the time was  not good at it all.
For anyone who is not familiar with Egyptian history he is also known as the god Anubis or the god of death who brings Souls into the Afterlife.

I genuinely thought she was the god ....
Again I had an underdeveloped antisocial  young mind .
Looking back on it now I realy wish I could change how I saw myself or found Phish as soon as I found Breaking Benjamin.
 She ordered me to get into the make shift sarcophagus and told me I could go home to Egypt. 

I thought it was some kind of game I truly didn't realize the kind of darkness I was about to get myself into.
I did as she asked and was happy to do so craving anything of friendship or attention.

Cara slammed the top of the tool box on me and proceeded to cuss at me .
She said vile things that really did burn into my soul.

Things like I was a worthless piece of shit and nobody at school wanted me around, that I should save everyone a lot of time and in my life, and that I was crazy and making up my abuse for attention.
Part of me doesn't blame her I was very unbalanced and wild and I had my mother's abuse for her out of shame and self-blame for so long that by the time I did stand on my own two feet nobody really believed me.

Of course it doesn't make what happened better but somehow it allows me to have some hippie compassion in my soul to try to let it go and forgive her.
She called me  twisted insulting rhymes of names that rhymes with my first name  things that stuck until high school that she created that day while I was stuck in that tool box .
When Cara had her fill she told me she would see me at school and left.
 My mother and I and I....  
Well I really cant in this time in life get into our relationship and how well I did things for her for years thinking it was my fault never once checked on me all week end .
There were many weekends that she didn't check on me this isn't unusual, in fact I think it was easier for her to pretend I didn't exist sometimes and it's a miracle I'm alive and I thank the gods everyday that I am no offense to whatever beliefs anyone reading this might have.

I can remember the buzzing of the Fish tanks and sometimes when it's to quiet I can still hear it .... my own crying ... and a little bit of light I remember Screaming Cara's name and kicking and hitting until I embarrassingly  pissed myself .

My throat is raw from sobbing until finally I just let myself go off and do a fantasy land of delusion where I completely lost myself.

This was on a Saturday night so you can imagine the hours I spent in a fantasy land to cope .
How I prayed and begged to die quickly not knowing what would happen. 
I saw what I still belive was the real godess Bast trying to comfort me ...
Time after the lid closed is warped though sometimes when I wake up I can still smell urine. 

I remember the feline goddess his face was shrouded in white light that almost seemed golden. Her voice is too hard to describe but it was soothing as in my mind's eye she held me and rocked me and tried to keep me calm telling me that I would survive and be strong.

That is the day I truly believe that my third eye opened and I saw bits and flashes of what I believe was my own personal past life at least my first one.

If anyone can imagine solitary confinement imagine being stuck in a small space chafed from your own urine, throat sore, and you've been stuck in there so long you're literally delusional and no longer feel pain to the point where you are numb inside.

That's what the darkness of the toolbox that used to be my safe haven in Fantasyland had become that day.
It was never a safe haven again....
Instead it's become the place of stuffy dreams and nights where I wake up screaming at the top of my lungs and covered in cold sweats.

Cara came to let me out on monday when I didn't show up at school .

I know this is a little hard to believe but by that time my body was used to not drinking or eating very often.
(Everyone in my life just assumed I was naturally anorexic)
Cara cried and said she was so sorry and she finaly believed that I wasnt Crazy Violet  like everyone said.
 Needless to say I believe I saw true gods during that experience and there was worse things that happened to me throughout my childhood things I could never even think about submitting.

I hope that someone got something healing out of this story, something they could relate to or maybe some courage if they're going through something to change their circumstances no longer the early 2000s and things can be done about childhood abuse more easily than they used to be.
It may not seem like a long time since it's only 2018 but a lot has changed in that time when it comes to CPS regulations and actually believing the child when they report something that sounds crazy.
 I hope no one judges this story to much when you grow up in abusive homes as a kid you're sense of reality gets very warped. 

It's taken me several years to reach each myself what is right and wrong and how people should be treated as an adult I can't fathom even the thought of anything or anyone of abusing my son.
 And for anyone wondering there is always a happy light at the end of any traumatic struggle at 16 and a half I was put into foster care and remove for my mother's home.
Its taken a long time to tell myself  that like manythings from my childhood it was not my fault. 

Thank you for letting me share.
If you stuck around till the end you have an iron heart and hopefully a compassionate soul who knows how to spread kindness versus hate.
And if some one has been through somthing tramitic I encourage you to look into a band called phish.
I like to see Breaking Benjamin helped me get through trauma as a child the phish is helping my soul get over it.
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I know how you feel. I myself experienced childhood abuse between when I was 7 and 8
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