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TRIGGER WARNING: Child sexual abuse, animal abuse, language

I’ve always been an animal lover. My whole life. I can’t remember a time that I didn’t love animals. For a while there I considered myself and animal rights activist and I guess I still am in some way.

My perpetrator knew this and he used it against me many times. But first, the thing that always got to me was how if a pet died, he’d bawl. He’d cry like a fucking baby as if he just loved animals so much and as if he had a goddamn heart. That is where the crazy stepped in, his ability to change from one person to the next. And not just the way some people do when they hang out with different people but the way a person with a serious mental illness can go from saying “I love you” to saying “I will kill you”.

We had a cat, Bootsy. I loved that cat. I remember getting him as a kitten, picking him out of the box of kittens at someone’s house. From day one, though, he would use that cat to threaten me. If he wanted me to do something or if I wasn’t doing things around the house the way he approved of or even if I was just actually having fun (which he hated to see) he would say things like, “I’ll step on that fucking kitten right now!” or “I’ll throw that kitten down the goddamn stairs!” And he did. I can’t count the number of times I have heard that cat yelp or cry when he kicked it down the basement stairs. He would throw him, kick him, hit him with things.

One time, after some big fight in the house that probably had something to do with how I was not tolerating him calling me names, or trying to shove his hands down my pants or whatever and he blew up at me. You know? Good girls would let their stepfathers do that according to him. But this one time, he was mad and he took Bootsy outside, put him in a fishnet, hung him from an engine hoist and spun him around and hit him with a stick. I just cried. I’m crying now. I think the things he did to animals, to Bootsy, hurt me more sometimes than anything he did to me. That cat cried and screamed and when he finally put him down he laughed because the cat couldn’t walk straight for being dizzy.

He made me watch these things. He’d laugh at the cat. He’d laugh at me crying and call me a “crybaby” and a “little cunt”. Anyone who can do those things to an animal, a child any person shouldn’t be on the street. We don’t have a system that cares about that though and they smack them on the hand and put their pictures up on a website and say, “Don’t do that again!” But they do. They always will. And I can see his fucking ugly fat face smirking and thinking he got away with it all. He didn’t. I am alive, I have done and will always do amazing things with my life and he is just going to rot until he dies. Lonely, fucked up and pitiful. I don’t just push forward for me, I do it for my mum, for Bootsy, for ever single person he has hurt like this and for every single person who has been through anything like this because in the end what matters is you. You matter. Not them. Not that piece of shit person who has no sense of self esteem or ability to control their sick minds. You do great things and you win. I won and I’m still winning and I will always win.