The True Story of The Big Bad Wolf and the Little Red Riding Hood (This is No Fairy-Tale)

She was such a happy child. Lively, fun, and outgoing. She’d loved to play games and just make everyone around her happy. Performing arts was her specialty. From tap dancing, modern dance, to singing and playing the flute. What an enjoyest bunch she was as a little girl. Always a “help out” student in class, for both her fellow classmates and for her teachers; and what a proud member of the student counsel she was! So filled with energy, excited to be there for others around her that was less fortunate, and graciously always done what was asked of her. She was such a bright star and a shining light to all those in her family, to her friends, and even to strangers. She was such an exceptional child. In the direction to a fun filled life of things she loved and always wanted to do. Nothing or no one was going to stop her. She was the best child ever! Soon, however, all that would change…



She was laying down for a nap in her room when she was awaken. He came into her room and said, “Come with me”. She got up and went along. In his bedroom with the door closed, is where it all began. Soft kisses she started to feel on her face and around her neck. Smooth touch of hands she felt rubbing around her body. He took off all her clothes and he took off all of his. He laid her down in his bed; from there his body clouded over her. He kissed her all over her body and rubbed himself against her. Going up and down and all around her body, he used his hands, lips and genitals. It was just like sex, except there was no penetration. Though he did rub himself there, he didn't put it in. She laid there still, not knowing what to do…not knowing what to say. All she knew were the millions of thoughts franticly running through her mind. “Is this right!?” she asked. “Is he supposed to be doing this to me!?” she cried inside. “Is this right or wrong!?” she pleaded within herself. Her thought process was interrupted when he suggested, “touch me”. Her hands had been lying down to her sides, shaking. She lifted her hands and began to rub his back and arms; he continued to abuse her. She didn’t know what was going on or what to call it. All her little mind was able to comprehend is that what she was feeling, feels good, yet scared she had fears. At the tender age of seven, it felt like sex to her. All this will continue for months to come…



At age eight, so use to the unknown abuse, it was normal to her. The more it continued, the less and thess those millions of questions entered her mind. She figured, 'well this is still going on, so this must be okay", assuming everyone else knows what's going on. Why else would it be happening if it wasn't okay. She thoroughly enjoyed it, at times even asking for it. She didn’t know better, she didn’t know anything; but soon all that would change. All of a sudden things were changing. The private play time was occurring less and less. She thought “oh, well maybe he’s tired and can’t keep up with my energy”. She didn’t understand why the passion was running down and out. He knew, but she continued to tarry along. The less it happened the more she was beginning to see; her time with him was becoming less and less. So it was so. That day she realized he would never touch her again. When she fully understood that, she immediately felt empty inside. Her heart was broken, and her heart was extremely heavy and most important of all, her heart was completely empty; It had sunk. As soon as she felt those things, who she was, that joyest happy child, would soon be estranged.



She started to feel sad all the time. Her days were filled with darkness, sorrow and crying. She had slipped into Depression; and once there, it would take her years to finally talk about it. Being aloof, she was no more that lively, amusive, outgoing little girl. Now she was sickly-dead-like, woeful, and introverted. Behaviors of who she was drastically changed. Becoming filled with anger, she would lash out! Being filled with anguish, she would break down. Consumed with the reality of a nightmare, she would cave in. Dark skies after dark skies, she would weep just to get herself into a state of a slight coma; all she ever did was sleep. She looks back and wonders why it was so hard for her to fall at rest. Crying was the only thing that got her to sleep. When the days were bright outside, it felt more like the dark skies. She’d lock herself in her bedroom, close the blinds and just cry. Crying so much that her eyes would blow up with puffiness till it’s hard for her to keep her eyes open. The thought of food and eating became more and more less appealing to her. She barely ate anything, ever. But she would go fom one extreme to another. From not eating, to overeating. The next morning she would wake up, and the whole depression process would happen all over again. Her once sweet behavior in school soon changed. She had fallen into a behavior pattern of belligerence; disrespectful to teachers, spiteful to classmates and irascible to strangers. However, because of her depression she just much rather had preferred to stay in a state of quiescent, it was only then, that, being disturbed would she become ill-tempered.



That being just a piece of the puzzle, more trouble awaited. Being left at a drop of a dime, that intimacy, private, romantic "sex" she felt, like being in a relationship, she felt used. She was entangled in confusion and cradled in incomprehensible actions, feelings, thoughts about the entire ordeal. She then developed another disease, sexual feeling. The way he left her alone and left her for sexual death; having that private play time stopped, ruled to be a disaster for her emotionally and sexually. Engrossed by the way he made her feel, she was unable to let loose the sensuality she was enduring. Sexual feelings started to roam out of control; she didn’t know what to do about them. Spiraling out of control, now her thoughts were consumed by sex. What’s it like? How does it feel? How to do it? She became curious, but she wasn’t quite ready for any action yet; so she self-gratified. At the age of fifteen, in the tenth grade of high school, she got her experience. Sex for the very first time, she was disappointed. Where’s the intimacy she once felt? Where was the romance? Where was the passion like her former lover gave her? It wasn’t there, none of it. She then realized how bad the big bad wolf had messed up her sexually. She recognized that her innocence had been stolen, taken away from her. She would never be sexually normal again. Twisted thoughts of sex became relevant to her and justifiable for her from the contact she had with him. BDSM (bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism) became her interest. With all the pain she felt emotionally, it made since to her that sexual pain was in order. She enjoys the pain of sexual abuse. She enjoys the pain of tenebrous emotions. But, she knows this isn’t normal. This makes her feel crazy. She then began to give herself away. She believed that it was her duty to fulfill the desires of men. She always felt pressure from them because she had learned how NOT to say "no". She was broken, but she wasn't looking to fulfill the void and emptiness with sex; she knew it wasn't going to happen like that. But she was conditioned, from the abuse, to give it up.



Occasionally she sees him. He’s thirty minutes away from her home. They lived together most of her childhood and young adult life. Every time she’s faced with bringing up her past, this always haunts her. Fear bestills her when it’s time to tell just who this perpetrator is. Dreading to tell the truth because she’s frightful to say who has done this. Thoughts of her being disgusting, repulsive, a incestuous slut, enter her mind so she lies about the true identity of her personal pervert. No cousin, no uncle, no distant relative, the blood goes much deeper and much closer than that. She is sorrowful and apologetic for those she sustained away from the facts. A half-sibling of blood was the evil doer and the cause of so much turmoil in her life. Peculiar it may seem, she doesn’t, and has never, wanted to see him jailed. She knows he had his own issues, and that the same abuse happened to him. She’s forgiving of what he has done to her. (She no longer sees him as a big bad wolf). However, what she had endured will never leave who she is. She has been shaped and molded into a very specific person because of the effects of his actions. She now so sweetly and willingly suffers unconditional forgiveness, unconditional affection, and unconditional truth to bare ALL. She undoubtedly seeks and believes the true being and good in everyone she meets. She has an inviolable wall of trust, sincerity, openness and volition to be there by one"s side no matter what…always. It is true; she puts A LOT into caring for someone she knows, especially friends. She longs for constant communication. She yearns for someone to depend on her, someone to open up to her, someone to just give as much as she gives. You see, her innocence, her childhood, and her normal way of development in human relations has been robbed from her and she’s just trying to get back what was purloined from her. All of which that has been taken away from her, is now the only thing(s) she has to give…all of herself in every way, in all ways, in any ways…truthfully, tenderly, and honorably...entirely. She doesn’t know how to turn down or to turn off the intensity. This scares people away. She’s still alone and she’s still longing for that empty void to depart fully; then all she would need is someone, something to replete her. But now she is okay and she doing well. Her life feels complete and she is partially satisfied. She just continues to remind herself that things could be worst so that she can stay focus to tread on in life. She will make it!!