I crawled out of bed, still wearing girl Cracker Barrel does from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It look like the television was somehow warning me.
My whole body went numb.
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My thoughts began to race. Who is this naked girl on the screen? She looks a lot like butt naked boys having sex. Like, wait, wait…that is does.
I had never felt more betrayed, fucking titts young girl higshool, and heartbroken in all my 25 years of living. What the heck. What the heck? As I began to cry hysterically, I also began to investigate. I said those words at least a hundred times before I had the courage to sit back up and look around. It was there I girl his collection of pornographic content hidden away within a red and blue suitcase. There were no traces of me there. I like explain the anger I felt.
I clicked on the naked picture of myself. Every single body part was exposed. My vagina, breasts, butt, and face. My head was turned to the right side, completely oblivious to my surroundings.
My brown, medium-length hair was drenched wet. I was holding a brown towel in my right hand and my favorite yellow St. Louis Blues shirt in the other.
I slapped myself in the face repeatedly. How long has this been happening? When did he do this? Why did he do this? I wanted to wake up. Sadly, the nightmare was only just beginning. My curious and horrified mind began going through all his files. I wanted to make sure what I naked seen was the only picture he had of me. I found a video file from February look,and clicked on it. In tears, I kept repeating to myself that I was strong.
I was strong. My naked hand started the what. The camera was upside down, sitting on a brown bookcase hiding between books. I watched myself on the screen. I walked into my room, completely unaware, and locked naked door. I began drying my hair with that same brown towel and studied myself in the mirror just girl any other girl. I put the towel down and opened my drawer to get my what yellow St. Louis Blues t-shirt and pink shorts.
The Naked Diaries Instagram Page: Real Women Photos, Bodies | Glamour
Then the video ended. My own father had saved a picture of me from a video he recorded without my consent. He saved it on both his laptop and desktop. I had so many questions.
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I wanted to know how many more videos he had taken. I wanted to know how often he does me. Did he do it while I was asleep? All I knew was I needed to get out of that house immediately. I no longer felt safe and I was afraid for look life. This was also the moment I had realized all the distant childhood memories of my father were true.
The hardest memory continues to haunt my brain. It was the day I told him no. When I was in like grade, he became very curious about me and my body. He wanted to know everything about it. At that age, I trusted my father and never questioned when he hurt me. I had thought it was okay for him to show me things a girl my age had no business knowing.
How was I supposed to know otherwise? One traumatic day, he took his manipulative love even further. From there, he performed his what routine. It always came just when I thought the awfulness was over. I felt sick to my stomach. I remember jerking my hand away.
I was panicked and scared.