God Reality? A Testimony (4)
September 30th 2009 21:18
A wonderful self-defence mechanism allows children to bury bad events, and it wasn’t until I was an adult and underwent hypnotherapy, did the incident return like some replay of a horror movie. M had me sit on his bed. He sat on a chair opposite. He then explained that he had to conduct a health check to make sure nothing was wrong. Relief flooded through me—I wasn’t going to be strapped! This and the fact his demeanour was relaxed, his voice echoing quiet assurance, made me accept the lie. He then told me to stand and take down my pyjama pants. I quickly obeyed, not wanting him to notice my two pairs of underpants.
That’s when he began to fondle my private parts. I remember getting embarrassed and pulled away. M assured me that this was natural, and not to worry. Then for reasons of his own, he told me to pull up my pants, and that we would continue the check tomorrow night. Before leaving his room, he warned me that these health checks were personal and not to mention anything to the other boys or there would be serious trouble.
The following night, I knocked on his door with an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Once inside, he again told me to take down my pants. Then alarm bells started to ring in my mind. Something was wrong; this was no health check! I refused him, saying that I would tell my parents if he touched me again.
I’ll never forget the look on his face, not of fear, but a smile of arrogant assurance, something akin to a crook who’d never been caught. I don’t remember the exact wording, but he said something along the lines of ‘and whom would they believe; a lying little boy or a man of God.’
If it had ended there, I possibly would have been able to finish my schooling at Chevalier, not secure, but relatively safe in the knowledge that I had foiled his evil designs. M, however, had other plans. He never called me back to his room, continuing his health checks on other boys (God only knows how many he molested). No, on this little black duck, he began a campaign of psychological torment. (Cont.)
The following night, I knocked on his door with an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Once inside, he again told me to take down my pants. Then alarm bells started to ring in my mind. Something was wrong; this was no health check! I refused him, saying that I would tell my parents if he touched me again.
I’ll never forget the look on his face, not of fear, but a smile of arrogant assurance, something akin to a crook who’d never been caught. I don’t remember the exact wording, but he said something along the lines of ‘and whom would they believe; a lying little boy or a man of God.’
If it had ended there, I possibly would have been able to finish my schooling at Chevalier, not secure, but relatively safe in the knowledge that I had foiled his evil designs. M, however, had other plans. He never called me back to his room, continuing his health checks on other boys (God only knows how many he molested). No, on this little black duck, he began a campaign of psychological torment. (Cont.)
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