Amir just laughed at my outburst and told me that I must be so stupid that I did not know the situation of who I was. He told me that I looked like a girl and even complained like a girl. Amir claimed that he was not gay, but he and other men would treat me as a girl. It had nothing to do with love. It was about time to know that like many other white Christian boys, I was a gay sissy and only was meant to be a toy for men. Men would never care about me. I was just a sex object.
Then Amir dragged me into the house and presented me to an old fat man. I was told that this man wanted to play with me and to remember my place and do what he said. I knew by now that playing with me meant raping me. This man was not even nice to me. He called me a gay slut and whore. He smelled and he kept asking me did I like what he was doing? He was rough with me and treated me like dirt. I tried not to cry. My tactic was to put on a fake smile and act as if I liked it. I figured that the quicker I made him happy, the quicker that I could get away. This did not happen. This man had a lot of stamina.
When it was done, I did not even have time to rest or clean myself. Amir told me to get out of his sight. As I was leaving, he told me that things would be much easier if I knew my place and knew that he owned me now.
The next day at school, I was being bullied again. I was being called a sissy and everyone said I was gay. I could not concentrate during class as I was thinking about it. They were right. I did look like a girl and I did more gay things than they would even dream about. It made me ask myself once again if I was gay. When I was with a man, my body often deceived me. At times, I did not think how disgusting it was. It did not even hurt anymore. I started crying in class as I thought that maybe deep down I was gay. Why did I no longer look at girls anymore and think they were pretty?
When I was home, I hid in my room. I was shaking. I held my cellphone in my hand and dreaded that I would get a message from Amir. This was probably the worse thing about all the abuse. Waiting for the call to come! The abuse was bad enough, but waiting caused anxiety and made me think too much. This and the fact is that I allowed Amir to own me...
Abbie came and told me that I should come down and see the news. They have found the body of John. It was now official that he was dead. To make things worse, the news said that he died of an overdose. There were also signs that he was beaten up. Images went through my mind that Amir or one of the men beat him up. I considered it murder, as John only took the drugs as an escape from the abuse he had to endure. In a way, he was now free. I was determined that this would not happen to me. Somehow I would escape and survive!
Mr Martin (my teacher) visited me. I never had a teacher that visited me at home. It was strange when he visited, Mom somehow found the energy to get off the sofa and act normal. She was still a wreck, but not as bad as she always was. She even managed to smile! At any rate, Mr Martin visited because he was very worried. He explained that I changed a lot in the last few months. He knew that the other boys were calling me a sissy and saying that I was gay. Then I got this long speech on how it is OK if I was gay and that the main thing is that I was happy. Getting a visit from your teacher is not the best experience that you can have. He constantly asked me questions or gave me some lecture on how I should be happy and accept who I was.
He suspected that there was something else that was bothering me. The problem was that he thought it was my home life. I was at the edge of the sheet. Mr Martin thought that I was having an identity problem and my mom neglected me and he possibly knew what she has done and was a bad influence on me. I wanted to tell him the truth but was afraid. The news of John's death was still in my mind and I remembered Amir's threats. Mr Martin could not help me. He could not protect my family. I think he went away disappointed. I did appreciate his concern and goodwill. It's a shame he could not help.
When Mr Martin went, I went back up to my room and hid and held my cellphone again. Abbie came in wanting to talk. She thought that the visit was very strange.
" Are you gay like people say?" She asked. "If you are, I won't think your weird. You have become more girly in the last few months. I still think your the best brother and always will be."
I did not answer. How could I answer? It was the same question I have been asking myself. I was happy that Abbie still loved me as a brother. It did bother me if she would love me if she knew everything that I have done. I wanted Abbie to know. However, I did not want her to be disgusted and say I was a bad person.
Amir met me during lunch break a few days after. He wanted me to go for a ride in his nice car. He would not accept when I tried telling him that I had classes. Amir did not care. I did not dare argue with him. We drove to his house, where he led me to his bedroom. Once again I was a sex toy that was pleasing an older man. Amir used me in every way possible. He laughed at one stage when I moaned and wanted me to admit it felt good. It may have felt good with my body, as my body seems to have a mind of its own. However, It did not feel good in my mind. My brain was in the same turmoil as it usually was. I did not want to do this and I did not want to do it with an adult man. There was no love. I knew that I was an object of lust that was just being molested and abused.
After this all happened, Amir told me we need to have a serious talk. I was told that my training was complete. I should know by now that Amir owned me and it was time that I showed what I was worth. There were pictures of me naked and doing sexual things all over the net, and I was very popular. Amir told me that I was very famous. Millions of men wanted to be in bed with me. I was starting to get anxiety attacks and feel as if I would vomit. Amir was not done. The worse was yet to come. I was told that since my training was over, I would now be a child prostitute. Amir would be my pimp. I would be rented out to any man that had money. Amir ended with a smile, saying I should be proud that I would be doing the same as my mom! He also predicted that I would be very busy.
I could not sleep that night. I had nightmares that I was in a snake pit where snakes were crawling all over me as they bit me. I went to Abbie's room and sat down on her bed and watched her sleep. She looked so innocent and protected from the evils that I was exposed to. I wanted to do everything in my power to protect her and make sure she was happy. I then went down to my mom that was collapsed on the sofa. A bottle of wine was on the table. It was now that I understood why she was always drunk or high. She wanted to escape the life of a prostitute. I hugged my mother as I finally understood her. She was a prostitute to earn a living and give us the basics. She must have turned to alcohol and drugs to cope with the fact she was a prostitute. She made the wrong choice as she could have at a normal job. Now it was too late. The question was if mom had a choice.
I had no choice. I was told that I was famous in a way and now I would be a prostitute. I had no choice because I allowed a man or a group of men to pay to abuse me while I was supposed to accept it and smile. I was determined that I would not end up the same as my mum. Once again I knew that I had to survive and somehow protect my family until somehow I got my freedom.
Mr Martin did not come to school for a few days. I wondered where he was. He visited me at home and then he disappeared. I wondered was it because of me? While the rest of the children were delighted that the teacher was not there, I was on the other hand worried.
It was shortly after this that a social worker visited our house. It seems as if Mr Martin advised them to visit us. She did not come at a good time. Mom tried her best to be the good mom, but it was obvious that Mom had a hangover. The social worker thought that this was not a good environment for us to live in. I thought that she would remove Abbie and me and send us to some child home. I did not care if I would be removed. It would give me salvation and free me from the clutches of Amir. This did not happen. The social worker did not look happy, but all she said was that she now had to do paperwork. I wanted to beg her to take us away, but could not mutter a word.
The next day it was chaos at school. Mr Martin was found dead on his bed. There were no details of what happened, but everyone said that it was suicide. Somehow I was afraid that this was not true. I was sure that it had something to do with me and that Amir was involved. This was the same feeling that I had when I found out that John died of an overdose. I was sure that it was just not an overdose, just as I was sure that this was not a suicide.
I visited the church after school. I wanted to say a prayer for both John and Mr Martin. Their troubles were over and I hoped they were in heaven. If it was my fault, then I hoped that they would forgive me. I could not shake the guilty feeling away. Mr Martin wanted to help me. He knew that I was in some trouble. This was another lost chance for me to be saved from Amir's dark world. I wondered who could help me now. God was not helping me. It seemed as if he did not care.
Amir met me once again at school a few days later. He told me that we need to have a serious talk. As he drove, he gave me an envelope and told me to look at it. It was a picture of a dead Mr Martin on his bed. Amir was by now red with rage. He warned me that Allah had chosen my destiny and chosen that Amir would control my destiny. It was about time that I accepted it. Amir also said that anyone who tried to change my destiny would end up like Mr Martin.
I was afraid and had very little hope left
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