I live with the man who’s s******* assaulted me since I was eight years old. I’ve never been raped by him (so far) but he has molested me. I haven’t told anyone really about him molesting me, I’ve only told others about him being a lying alcoholic who tries peeping thru my windows or thru the hole in the ceiling of the bathroom when I take showers. The only time I’ve ever really tried telling someone was my mom- and she didn’t believe me. Maybe she did, I don’t know, but she talks about how it’s in a sense “normal” for men to do “things like that”. I just “need to be more cautious or scream next time”, she advised me. I’m in high school and sometimes still sleep with my grandma in her bed because I’m afraid that he’ll come into my room again and lift my shirt up while I sleep. I’ve caught him so many times doing that to me now, lifting my shirt that is, and my mom doesn’t care. My abuser taunts me when no one is around. I’m so psychologically f-ed up because of the whole situation with him and my mom not helping me. I’ve asked her to see a psychiatrist or someone medically professional to talk about my feelings and thoughts and mental state. Of course though, she said no. My mom doesn’t believe that people can have mental illnesses like depression or anxiety. And why see a therapist when I have her to talk to *insert eye roll and deep sigh here*. Everyday I promise myself to wait until I’m eighteen. As soon as I’m eighteen I’ll finally be able to get away from my abuser. I’ll be away from the taunting and his disgusting presence. I’ll finally be free. My mom tells me I need to respect him more, but I say screw that. “Forgive, but don’t forget.” I remind myself constantly. I rebel against him now by locking my bedroom door and I’ve covered that hole up in the ceiling with tooth past and white nail polish. He pokes through it all the time, and I cover it right back up. I bought dark grey curtains, and when he said that a girl like me doesn’t need “black” curtains because it’ll make me look goth, I fought back. He wanted to put pink see-through curtains in my room- um, hell no. I fought back and my grandma took my side and my grandma convinced my mom that I was right. For once I won, until the next morning when his heavy footsteps in the hallway woke me up and I was reminded of what dread he brought to me. Still serving as a constant reminder of what a total scumbag he is, and that one day I will get my justice for the abuse he’s done (and continues) to do to me. I don’t tell the cops because of my siblings. I love them too much to ever cause them pain. I want to protect them more than anything from the truth that lurks behind each closed door of this house. I love them and I would do anything for them, even when they drive me nuts, I love them so freaking much. So that’s why, for now I’ll wait for the day my justice can come for a crime that my abuser committed.