Get Revenge on Your Sexual Abusers? – Boy in the Barn: Journey of Triumph Over Horrific Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, and PTSD

When it came to getting revenge on my sexual abusers, I certainly thought about it, even to the point of acting on it and almost succeeded.

Unfortunately, I came dangerously close to killing my primary abuser, that is, killing my sadistic brother.

After years of abuse, I was at my breaking point. And finally, when I matured and started filling out, I had the size, strength, and mental fortitude to take my brother on.

At seventeen, I decided to murder him when he came home on furlough from the Army. He was twenty-one, and sure enough, he wanted sex with me again.

I expected this and planned an elaborate scheme to take him out at the same place where he had brutally raped me when I was eleven.

My plan was to kill him and bury his body there.

At the last minute, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. I wouldn’t lower myself to his level.

Instead, I finally stood up to him and promised I would kill him if he ever touched me again. He backed down because I was no longer the little boy he could dominate.

And my eleven years of contact sexual abuse ended that day. But I still had the mental scars and emotional fallout to deal with for the rest of my life.

I also had other abusers. Multiple men in a satanic cult that my brother introduced me to. I wanted revenge on them too, but that never materialized other than in my fantasies. Because their identities were always hidden behind masks.

Now in my 60s, I’m glad I didn’t succumb to my darker side. I did not become a killer or a child abuser like my brother. And I kept myself out of the North Carolina prison system.

Instead, my sweetest revenge was letting my brother know he did not defeat me; he could not and would not destroy me.

You see, as a teenager, I vowed that I would succeed in life and make something out of myself.

I proceeded to get an education and got the hell out of there. And my life was richer in the end for it.

And every time my brother saw me as an older, established adult man, I’m sure he was baffled why he did not destroy me.

And I did not purposely flaunt my success or wealth and rub it in his face. Instead, I simply existed; I just quietly existed and tried to live my life as a better person than him, regardless of my horrible past.

And that ate away at him until he took his last natural breath from advanced cancer in his early 60s. He hated me until his end. And quite honestly, I despised him until his end.

And that was my revenge.

In summary, you must read my novel to learn more about how I survived. How I went on to make the best out of my life, regardless of my horrid childhood.