This Girl Had The Most Horrific Childhood. She Was Raped By Her Father, Uncle, Brother And Boyfriend!

This Girl Had The Most Horrific Childhood. She Was Raped By Her Father, Uncle, Brother And Boyfriend!

We happened to spot a thread on Quora that asked readers to describe the hardest day of their lives. What we came across sent shiver down our spine. Everyone should not just read it but share the story of this brave woman, Ann Young, who has been fighting with life since she was a little kid. rape

“The hardest day of my life was my entire childhood.

At age 3, my uncle made me lick his penis “like a lollypop.”

At age 9, I was raped by another family member.

At 15, my mom and step-dad thought it was funny for my step-dad to touch my breasts.

I was date raped at age 17.

My mom’s second husband would make me strip naked and lay in the center of my bed while he beat me all over my body.

My mom’s third and current husband, my step-dad, beat me regularly for a decade, from the time I was 5 until I was 15.

I got hit for making too much noise in the morning. I got hit for eating the last pickle. I got hit for speaking. I got hit even if I opened my mouth to speak. I endured black eyes, bloody noses, fat and bloody lips, a broken finger, welt marks and bruises all over my body. I’ve been hit with a croquet mallet and beaten with a whiffle bat until it was broken in half. My entire childhood was terrifying.

On top of it my mom would tell me that she didn’t want me, that if she could do things over she wouldn’t have had me. She didn’t want me.

My step-dad made fun of me every day because I was a little chubby. He would entertain guests by making fun of me. He would encourage me to make fun of him in return and then laugh at my poor attempts. Whenever I did make a joke he didn’t like, he would beat me for it.

I tried my best to overcome it. By age 30, my body gave out. It was too damaged from all the physical abuse. I have Enthesopathy, Fibromyalgia, and polyarthritis, just to name a few. I also suffer from chronic PTSD, major depressive disorder, and anxiety.

I live off of SSD and receive less than $12,000 a year to survive. All of my hopes and dreams were stolen from me.

I haven’t overcome it yet.”

This heart-wrenching reply of hers went viral on Quora and thousands of people asked several questions to know how she overcame all the difficulties she faced. She edited her answer and wrote down replies for each one of them.

I am truly surprised by the response I have received here. Thank you all for your kind words and compassion. Some of your comments made me cry, for good reasons. It is comforting to know that there are kind, compassionate people in this cruel world.

There were some comments and questions I would like to address.

Shortly after my uncle sexually abused me, he killed himself. I have wondered all of my life if he killed himself because of what he did to me.

The person who raped me when I was 9 years old was my older brother. He did not live with us.

My two older brothers grew up with our biological father while I grew up with my mom and step-dad. My mom didn’t want the boys. She barely had anything to do with them. She kept me because I was a girl and because she wasn’t entirely sure who my father was. I grew up believing that William James Young Sr was my father. My mom kept me away from him for most of my childhood because of my brothers, according to her.

The brother who raped me did so during a very rare visit to our home. He was allowed to spend the night that night. He hated me. He hated that my mom kept me and had barely anything to do with him. Little did he know what I was going through.

I didn’t tell on him until I was 11. My mom contacted the police and a woman came to our home. I had to tell her everything. My brother was arrested and sent to live in a juvenile detention facility for 4 years. His last year there, my mom took some interest in him for some reason. She started bringing my rapist home for visits. One day she made me sit at the dining room table and write a letter. She forced me to write that I had forgiven my brother and that I wanted him to come live with us. None of it was true. I was terrified of my brother. Additionally, my parents never got me any help for what he did to me. They said that they couldn’t afford it. My parents could afford new jewelry every Christmas for my mom and yearly vacations to Las Vegas but they couldn’t afford anything for me ever, not dental check ups, not doctors, nothing. I was lucky to get a coat for winter and with that I was forced to get on my knees and thank my parents repeatedly for all they did for me.

Read the full story here.

Ishita Kapoor

Ishita Kapoor