Taped Stories #4

Taped Stories #4:

I was 5 years old when I was raped. My memory of it has always been in the back of my mind, it’s hard not to always think about it. Although I don’t recall every piece of it, unconsciously blocking parts of it from my memory, I remember feeling that my childhood was taken away from me. My parents, brothers and I were renting a room at my dad’s friends house. From the time I was born, my family and I rented or stayed in places temporarily until we found an apartment. He was the son of the family we were staying at. He was in his 20’s and was asked by my parents to be my babysitter, trusting him to take care of me. How ironic is that? I never noticed the lingering gazes or the fondling or the amount of time he would keep me on his leg, bouncing me, while enjoying the view. I was a kid who never new what the word sex meant or anything intimate. I was still focused on barbies and dress-up. One day, my mother and father had to do some errands and left me in his care. At first, it felt like any other day until he led me to his room. His room was dark and had a large bed with tall headboards. I remember going, him laying me down and tying me up. My tiny arms were held by rope that was attached to the headboard. Blank. I don’t remember what happened. Blank. What was happening? Was I screaming? Blank.

I remember my parents calling for me and when they heard nothing they automatically got defensive and protective.

I remember my dad knocking on the door

I remember my dad kicking the door.

i remember seeing the light when the door opened.


I remember going to the police station and telling them my story. They seemed too preoccupied to care about a child getting raped. They still took down my information.


I have never asked my parents about what exactly happened to him. I do know that he is in jail. I also don’t want to bring it up to them because opening that wound will bring back all the pain to my parents, something I only wish to have for myself.

I do want to see him. I want to face him and tell that he did not break me forever. I want him to see that I am happy. I want him to pay. Although I have met others who have forgiven those who raped, abused or assaulted them, I can not. Some people may agree, some may not but it took me a very long time to come to this conclusion.

My name is Kimberly Gomez and I was raped. I say my name because it was, and still is, very hard to tell people about my story. I don’t want pity or sadness from anyone. I do want to be more open about my story because I know if I speak up, others will see it.” – April 19, 2017


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