Smugglers Europe Criminal Network

https://himevn.wordpress.com/2019/11/03/people-smugglers-europe-criminal-network-vs-vietnamese-communists-related-information/

A GHETTO HORROR STORY

Cold blooded killer, the nigger that took my virginity. I was only five motherfucker! When you pulled me into that dark place, behind that gate. I was only five motherfucker! When you Leaned me over the trash can. I was only five motherfucker! When you, you could not wait… to rape… and take…, away… my innocence. I wanted it to be over, but you kept going. You were “Charles In Charge”. You were too ashamed to even look me in the face. You coward, you knew you were wrong. “Keep Quiet, Shhhh!” you told me. Confusing my mind, disguising your rape for real intimacy, instead of a crime. Nigger! you had no class, when you made me take it up the ass. Like some two dollar whore, no courting, no kiss goodbye. A crash course in sexual education. I was only five motherfucker! When you hid me in the backyard, and told me not to scream. When you leaned over the back of me, and whispered sweet nothings in my ear.” “Let freedom ring” Wade in the water” “Go Down Moses, I had a dream motherfucker! Before I met you.

We shall overcome!”, it was you that robbed me of the dream. Not the white man, or the police. Fuck you! Who would think, that the abuse that I would be faced with, for the first time, would not come from a police baton. But from a black dick! Nigger! I was only five! When you decided to kidnap me, and rob me of my childhood. You should have told me, that it was a hold up. I could have made a run for it. Motherfucker! You did not even have the dignity to wear a mask on. Confusing me, making me think that my sexuality was “BAD”. Treating me like, “DIRTY DIANA”. Making me walk the earth, filled with “Tainted Love”.

I was only five years old motherfucker! , when you dumped me, “BACK ON THE BLOCK”. Like you were just taking out the trash. I had plans motherfucker! , before I met you. Four square, Jacks, Shooting Marbles, Missile Pops, trying to get my Slinky to walk down the stairs, Saturday Morning Cartoons, Cotton Candy, Climbing Trees, Catching Butterflies. You know, kid shit! Growing up was never the same after I met you. You were always there, in my head, bugging me. No matter what, I could never finish that puzzle, climb a tree, or anything else, like I used to do, before I met you. You were always there, fucking up my times tables. Ten years later, you became my next door neighbor again! In a totally different city. Nigger! Were you following me or something?

 

I was ten years old , and I wanted to scream,” There he is! That’s the guy who raped me!” But, I could not get the words out. I remembered the last thing you said to me, before you pulled out. “You better not tell anyone what I did to you, ever!” But we were not done yet, we were somehow destined to meet each other again. God, I hate you! What lesson must I learn this time? I’m now forty years old, riding the Bart from Oakland to San Francisco. The train comes to a stop, a homeless derelict gets on the train. It was funny, “because this homeless person reminds me of someone. Oh snap! My god, it’s him, the guy who raped me.”, I said to myself. The man I wanted to kill, all my life”. But then I realized, that even if I kill him, the pain will still be there. I had just decided, the day before our fateful reunion together. That I would finally accept the pain and hurt that my rapist had caused me. From the first time he laid his hands on me. The pain I had been holding onto for so many years.

And in that moment, I was freed from the pain. I had literally healed myself, the day before I met him again. I not only saved my life, by doing the work necessary to heal myself. But it was that same work, that literally kept me from killing him. The day that I ran into him again, on the train. It allowed me, to look at him with empathy. I realized that, this man had made his choice in life. And he has paid the price for those choices. The choice to be a child rapist. A choice that has led him to this outcome. Walking the streets as a homeless derelict. I did not have lay my hands on him at all. His choices became his lot in life. I chose to be a survivor, and embrace the hurt that he had caused me. And in doing that, I finally was able to “Overcome”. I won, and he lost. I no longer had to fear him. He could never hurt me again. I then prayed for his soul. “ Free at last, Free at Last, Thank God Almighty I’m Free At Last”.

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