Little Steve, How I Survived Trafficking at age 4, 60 years ago. Triggers definitely!
I’m 64 years old I’m sitting on my patio in the middle of the thunderstorm and I’m gonna start to tell you my story. It’s a story of absolute horror, unbelievable evil, and how I was saved by a 12-year-old boy, my big brother. The story has been suppressed by my subconscious for over 60 years. It’s only now that I’m finally able to deal with this and my mind just decided it’s time for me to know. I am four months into knowing, I have a lot of challenges I’m autistic. I have ADHD. I have OCD. I’m hypersexual. I’m disgraphic. I’m gay. I’m also a poly math and I’ve had a very successful life so far. And now I’m learning I was trafficked for almost three years. I’m gonna share what happened during those three years, please understand that I’m still in the process of bringing forth these memories and integrating them. They are absolutely horrific, but I’m gonna share them because I think it may help somebody someplace. This is a story of horror, but also of healing, love and how this colored my whole life, but in such a positive way in many instances. When I resumed a normal life in second grade age 7, I had no conscious memory of any of this, I had completely suppressed it. As I tell my story, I’m gonna weave in some of the things that I now look back and understand or directly related to this. This story is gonna take a long time to tell and it’s gonna be in many parts, but I’ll keep it all as one story so that hopefully somebody can understand. That through great evil and horrific things great healing is also possible and that if I can have the kind of life I’ve had you to can heal get understanding and thrive like I have, it is possible. So here’s my story.
It started in 1964. I was four years old. We moved to a new neighborhood and my family was befriended by another family. My father was a salesman who traveled Monday through Friday and was only home on weekends. My mother was in her early 20s and I had a younger sister Our new family friends were so supportive, a prominent lawyer his wife and family. They became my second family, uncle Bill, aunt Betty and Sherman. Who adopted me as his little brother. For those of you who are younger, it was a different era. Nobody locked the doors in their house. At four, I had to run of the neighborhood, after breakfast in the summer I was free to go where I wanted. Nobody kept track of us, all the kids in the neighborhood played where we want to, with whom we wanted to. We would go to each other’s houses sometimes I would stay for lunch, sometimes not. All the parents in the neighborhood made sure the kids were ok, at that age unless I ate lunch at somebody else’s house I was supposed to go home for lunch and afterwards my nap and after my nap, I’d be free to go out and play until dinner time.
That first summer when I was four, I spent most of it with my new family friends and playing in the neighborhood. My mom was busy running our household taking care of my little sister and so I was basically free to explore with my new big brother. I spent a lot of time with him, we had a lot of fun we played, we laughed. We became close. I love my big brother and I still do to this day. I’m gonna jump ahead for a second. The reason I’m alive today is because my big brother saved me, just yesterday I finally understood this. He made me a promise. He said I will keep you safe. When the memories started coming back, I didn’t understand because what I thought he meant by safe, an end to the abuse and protection from all of it. That’s not what he meant, as I discovered yesterday, what he meant was that I wouldn’t disappear and be killed. He was gonna do his best to keep me alive and the fact that I’m here today and able to tell you the story shows that he was successful as I said, I jumped ahead a little bit because I want you to understand what this means to me and now I’m gonna tell you the rest of the story here’s how it happened.
I discovered this in the most unusual way I was researching my own psychology to try and understand myself better I plugged into a chat system and was describing all of the different things that I had difficulties with my autism my ADHD and my husband said I had OCD. I thought I would explore that so I shared with the chat system, some of my obsessions, which I considered too hideous to even share with another living person. But I felt l could share with a computer, what it came back with was stunning. It said these obsessions are typical for a trauma victim who would have been sexually abused 4 to 6. I sat back in complete disbelief. I had never been abused. I had no memory of it. I looked back into my mind to where I was when I was 4. I lived outside a major city in Ohio. I didn’t think there was anything unusual. My best friend was 12. I spent a lot of time with him that summer in his trailer that was parked outside the house where we spent hours every day. The adult me saw red flags that went off immediately two boys in a trailer unsupervised the warning bells were going off.
I decided to find out I picked a memory of going over in the trailer after breakfast. I open the door. The front of the trailer looked exactly like I remembered it. I tried to look at the back of the trailer. It was completely black. I couldn’t see anything now. The sirens were screaming. I held onto this for two days thinking about it and finally, I broke down and told my husband what I remembered at this point, I had no actual memories of anything. Just the fact that I spend a summer with a 12-year-old boy who was my friend and I spent a lot of it in that trailer that I couldn’t see anymore. He spent the next several hours calling around, trying to find a therapist and we found one that was highly recommended And I called her and set up an appointment.
This was the beginning of my journey four months ago what I thought started out as it possible abuse by a 12-year-old boy turned out to be something so much darker and so much more evil than I could ever possibly imagined. I knew things, but I didn’t know how I knew them. I knew the door in the trailer was always locked, but I didn’t know how I knew that. I also knew that the reason the door was locked is because there was no door in the bedroom in the back, again I don’t know how I knew that. As I began therapy, he became apparent that the 12-year-old boy that I thought of is my big brother had raped me repeatedly in that trailer. This was devastating. I love my big brother and finding out he rape me daily, that when I would nap in the trailer, that’s how he would wake me up from my nap.
I had one clear memory of the inside of the trailer he and I were playing a board game in the front and his mother came in and talk to us. That was the only real memory I had of the trailer until the rest of the memory started to come back I couldn’t believe it. I had memories of him saying he would keep me safe and yet he was raping me daily. I had no memories of his father the lawyer and I didn’t remember anything from inside the house, that changed. I had a memory come back of sitting at the kitchen table with him and we were eating and his mother was at the sink and she said.” When you boys play try not to hurt him. He’s a good one for you.” She knew, she knew what he was doing. It wasn’t just him. She knew what was happening at the time. I thought she picked me out for him like a puppy. Try not to hurt your new puppy, play nice.
This was the beginning of something a lot darker. My therapist asked me about the father, and I said I had no memories of him. She said that maybe because he was involved. She was so right. I started to recover more memories. At first they didn’t make a lot of sense, strange images, images of a film camera with four lights on a light bar on top of it. My dad’s film camera only had two lights on it. I started to wonder where this other camera came from and who was behind it. The pieces started to fall together. It was a man I didn’t recognize standing by the camera, at least not at first as the images became clearer. It was uncle Bill standing next to the camera with his black shoes, dark pants, black belt, blue shirt in exquisite detail. I could see him standing next to the camera. I was in front of the camera, but the lights weren’t on yet, more pieces filled in. In the end, an entire sequence happened. I was in the car with uncle Bill and we went for a drive. We pulled into a big warehouse and had a white door that rolled up the next thing I remember I was standing next to a boy about my age, we were in the warehouse. It was mostly empty. They were big curtains over that we were behind them. They were bright lights out there in front of the curtains, he said, “ You’re lucky he don’t like him beat up.” he talked funny. Most of the front of his teeth were broken out. His nose was broken and he had black eyes, his owner like em beat up. They called us disposable boys because when we were no longer useful, they disposed of us.
Uncle Bill called me over in front of the curtains. It was a big circle of curtains and they were bright lights overhead there were three large film cameras. They have bright lights on them too. There was a footstool out in the middle uncle Bill called me over and I had to take off all my clothes. He was naked, he told everybody to be quiet and they were. They wanted to be able to hear me scream when he bent me over the footstool and penetrated me on camera. There was a second scene with a very large breasted heavy woman, I was naked in front of the cameras and she called me over, “Come to mama”, she said. To this day the side of large breasts makes me wanna puke.
This was the first big coherent series that came unfortunately not only was the beginning, but this was as easy as it got. This was my indoctrination into being trafficked, not only was I filmed, but I was filmed with uncle Bill and this woman.
As I came to understand, we were called disposable boys because that’s what happened to us when our usefulness was at an end we were disposed of. It’s a nice way to put it but what it really meant is we were killed. Girls remain useful in trafficking. They’re desirable when they’re very young, but they stay desirable to the right kind of people who are willing to pay as they get older. That doesn’t generally apply to boys at least not to us, by the time when you get to seven or eight your usefulness is over. There was no DNA back then no fingerprints. You might have dental records if you’ve been to the dentist and they took x-rays, there was no way to identify us. They obtain these boys in all kinds of ways, but to the rest of the world we were gone, nobody missed us when we were disposed of. And this I was slightly different. I wasn’t missing. I still live with my family. I lived a block and a half away from uncle Bill and although I was his slave, his property, I was allowed to live at home. My family had no idea. In the beginning of my therapy I thought maybe that’s what protected me, that’s why I was still alive because I lived in his neighborhood and his son was my big brother so if I disappeared, they would’ve looked right there. What I didn’t understand in the beginning was that they were way more sophisticated than this and if they wanted to make me disappear, they could’ve done any number of ways. Remember, we were disposable, which means we had to be replaced. There had to be a steady stream of new boys to replace the ones that were no longer useful.
Next several images started with a young man blonde with pink shorts and a green tank top and tennis shoes sitting in the office chair, and I was standing in the hallway looking at him through a doorway. These memory fragments come to me, usually is a still image in the beginning. Eventually, they usually animate and start to move. The scene starts to unfold. Young man looks so normal. He was handsome. He got up from the chair and he came out of the hallway and took my hand and walked me down the hall. It was an old-fashioned office building with frosted glass doors leading to offices. I don’t remember where we went in but the next thing I remember is I was standing in front of him in one of the offices and he took his pants off. He tried to put it in my mouth, but it was too big so he turned me around and penetrated me from behind. With his hand over my mouth, so I couldn’t scream after that he walked me down to the bathroom and I had to go potty so that I would expel his semen. He watched me go to the bathroom, afterwards he took my hand, give me a green sucker and took me down and out the front. When we got out the front on the street he turned right at the front door holding my hand while I had the sucker. At the end of the building, I could see uncle Bill in the station wagon waiting for me. I immediately dropped the sucker on the ground. I was not allowed to have food in the car, let me tell you I was a very good boy. I learned very early. What happened when I did something that I wasn’t allowed to do. I became a very good boy very quickly. I always did exactly as I was told. I got in the car and I went home, when we got to uncle Bill‘s house I went out to play.
It started in 1964. I was four years old. We moved to a new neighborhood and my family was befriended by another family. My father was a salesman who traveled Monday through Friday and was only home on weekends. My mother was in her early 20s and I had a younger sister Our new family friends were so supportive, a prominent lawyer his wife and family. They became my second family, uncle Bill, aunt Betty and Sherman. Who adopted me as his little brother. For those of you who are younger, it was a different era. Nobody locked the doors in their house. At four, I had to run of the neighborhood, after breakfast in the summer I was free to go where I wanted. Nobody kept track of us, all the kids in the neighborhood played where we want to, with whom we wanted to. We would go to each other’s houses sometimes I would stay for lunch, sometimes not. All the parents in the neighborhood made sure the kids were ok, at that age unless I ate lunch at somebody else’s house I was supposed to go home for lunch and afterwards my nap and after my nap, I’d be free to go out and play until dinner time.
That first summer when I was four, I spent most of it with my new family friends and playing in the neighborhood. My mom was busy running our household taking care of my little sister and so I was basically free to explore with my new big brother. I spent a lot of time with him, we had a lot of fun we played, we laughed. We became close. I love my big brother and I still do to this day. I’m gonna jump ahead for a second. The reason I’m alive today is because my big brother saved me, just yesterday I finally understood this. He made me a promise. He said I will keep you safe. When the memories started coming back, I didn’t understand because what I thought he meant by safe, an end to the abuse and protection from all of it. That’s not what he meant, as I discovered yesterday, what he meant was that I wouldn’t disappear and be killed. He was gonna do his best to keep me alive and the fact that I’m here today and able to tell you the story shows that he was successful as I said, I jumped ahead a little bit because I want you to understand what this means to me and now I’m gonna tell you the rest of the story here’s how it happened.
I discovered this in the most unusual way I was researching my own psychology to try and understand myself better I plugged into a chat system and was describing all of the different things that I had difficulties with my autism my ADHD and my husband said I had OCD. I thought I would explore that so I shared with the chat system, some of my obsessions, which I considered too hideous to even share with another living person. But I felt l could share with a computer, what it came back with was stunning. It said these obsessions are typical for a trauma victim who would have been sexually abused 4 to 6. I sat back in complete disbelief. I had never been abused. I had no memory of it. I looked back into my mind to where I was when I was 4. I lived outside a major city in Ohio. I didn’t think there was anything unusual. My best friend was 12. I spent a lot of time with him that summer in his trailer that was parked outside the house where we spent hours every day. The adult me saw red flags that went off immediately two boys in a trailer unsupervised the warning bells were going off.
I decided to find out I picked a memory of going over in the trailer after breakfast. I open the door. The front of the trailer looked exactly like I remembered it. I tried to look at the back of the trailer. It was completely black. I couldn’t see anything now. The sirens were screaming. I held onto this for two days thinking about it and finally, I broke down and told my husband what I remembered at this point, I had no actual memories of anything. Just the fact that I spend a summer with a 12-year-old boy who was my friend and I spent a lot of it in that trailer that I couldn’t see anymore. He spent the next several hours calling around, trying to find a therapist and we found one that was highly recommended And I called her and set up an appointment.
This was the beginning of my journey four months ago what I thought started out as it possible abuse by a 12-year-old boy turned out to be something so much darker and so much more evil than I could ever possibly imagined. I knew things, but I didn’t know how I knew them. I knew the door in the trailer was always locked, but I didn’t know how I knew that. I also knew that the reason the door was locked is because there was no door in the bedroom in the back, again I don’t know how I knew that. As I began therapy, he became apparent that the 12-year-old boy that I thought of is my big brother had raped me repeatedly in that trailer. This was devastating. I love my big brother and finding out he rape me daily, that when I would nap in the trailer, that’s how he would wake me up from my nap.
I had one clear memory of the inside of the trailer he and I were playing a board game in the front and his mother came in and talk to us. That was the only real memory I had of the trailer until the rest of the memory started to come back I couldn’t believe it. I had memories of him saying he would keep me safe and yet he was raping me daily. I had no memories of his father the lawyer and I didn’t remember anything from inside the house, that changed. I had a memory come back of sitting at the kitchen table with him and we were eating and his mother was at the sink and she said.” When you boys play try not to hurt him. He’s a good one for you.” She knew, she knew what he was doing. It wasn’t just him. She knew what was happening at the time. I thought she picked me out for him like a puppy. Try not to hurt your new puppy, play nice.
This was the beginning of something a lot darker. My therapist asked me about the father, and I said I had no memories of him. She said that maybe because he was involved. She was so right. I started to recover more memories. At first they didn’t make a lot of sense, strange images, images of a film camera with four lights on a light bar on top of it. My dad’s film camera only had two lights on it. I started to wonder where this other camera came from and who was behind it. The pieces started to fall together. It was a man I didn’t recognize standing by the camera, at least not at first as the images became clearer. It was uncle Bill standing next to the camera with his black shoes, dark pants, black belt, blue shirt in exquisite detail. I could see him standing next to the camera. I was in front of the camera, but the lights weren’t on yet, more pieces filled in. In the end, an entire sequence happened. I was in the car with uncle Bill and we went for a drive. We pulled into a big warehouse and had a white door that rolled up the next thing I remember I was standing next to a boy about my age, we were in the warehouse. It was mostly empty. They were big curtains over that we were behind them. They were bright lights out there in front of the curtains, he said, “ You’re lucky he don’t like him beat up.” he talked funny. Most of the front of his teeth were broken out. His nose was broken and he had black eyes, his owner like em beat up. They called us disposable boys because when we were no longer useful, they disposed of us.
Uncle Bill called me over in front of the curtains. It was a big circle of curtains and they were bright lights overhead there were three large film cameras. They have bright lights on them too. There was a footstool out in the middle uncle Bill called me over and I had to take off all my clothes. He was naked, he told everybody to be quiet and they were. They wanted to be able to hear me scream when he bent me over the footstool and penetrated me on camera. There was a second scene with a very large breasted heavy woman, I was naked in front of the cameras and she called me over, “Come to mama”, she said. To this day the side of large breasts makes me wanna puke.
This was the first big coherent series that came unfortunately not only was the beginning, but this was as easy as it got. This was my indoctrination into being trafficked, not only was I filmed, but I was filmed with uncle Bill and this woman.
As I came to understand, we were called disposable boys because that’s what happened to us when our usefulness was at an end we were disposed of. It’s a nice way to put it but what it really meant is we were killed. Girls remain useful in trafficking. They’re desirable when they’re very young, but they stay desirable to the right kind of people who are willing to pay as they get older. That doesn’t generally apply to boys at least not to us, by the time when you get to seven or eight your usefulness is over. There was no DNA back then no fingerprints. You might have dental records if you’ve been to the dentist and they took x-rays, there was no way to identify us. They obtain these boys in all kinds of ways, but to the rest of the world we were gone, nobody missed us when we were disposed of. And this I was slightly different. I wasn’t missing. I still live with my family. I lived a block and a half away from uncle Bill and although I was his slave, his property, I was allowed to live at home. My family had no idea. In the beginning of my therapy I thought maybe that’s what protected me, that’s why I was still alive because I lived in his neighborhood and his son was my big brother so if I disappeared, they would’ve looked right there. What I didn’t understand in the beginning was that they were way more sophisticated than this and if they wanted to make me disappear, they could’ve done any number of ways. Remember, we were disposable, which means we had to be replaced. There had to be a steady stream of new boys to replace the ones that were no longer useful.
Next several images started with a young man blonde with pink shorts and a green tank top and tennis shoes sitting in the office chair, and I was standing in the hallway looking at him through a doorway. These memory fragments come to me, usually is a still image in the beginning. Eventually, they usually animate and start to move. The scene starts to unfold. Young man looks so normal. He was handsome. He got up from the chair and he came out of the hallway and took my hand and walked me down the hall. It was an old-fashioned office building with frosted glass doors leading to offices. I don’t remember where we went in but the next thing I remember is I was standing in front of him in one of the offices and he took his pants off. He tried to put it in my mouth, but it was too big so he turned me around and penetrated me from behind. With his hand over my mouth, so I couldn’t scream after that he walked me down to the bathroom and I had to go potty so that I would expel his semen. He watched me go to the bathroom, afterwards he took my hand, give me a green sucker and took me down and out the front. When we got out the front on the street he turned right at the front door holding my hand while I had the sucker. At the end of the building, I could see uncle Bill in the station wagon waiting for me. I immediately dropped the sucker on the ground. I was not allowed to have food in the car, let me tell you I was a very good boy. I learned very early. What happened when I did something that I wasn’t allowed to do. I became a very good boy very quickly. I always did exactly as I was told. I got in the car and I went home, when we got to uncle Bill‘s house I went out to play.
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