At the end of the school year we moved again back to Utah. We had a huge house in an affluent neighborhood in Orem. I was allowed to choose my bedroom first. I quickly gravitated to large basement bedroom. Unfortunately, it was a fateful location. Mike had made part of the basement his office. When I tried to sneak past he would often catch me and call me over under some pretense. He would prompt me to sit on his lap. Knowing that to disobey would mean I would be seen as being noncompliant, I would relent. Mike had a fetish with seams, especially seams on jeans, which is what I always wore. He would run his fingertips back and forth along the seam of my jeans, up my leg. His touch filled me with revulsion. He would probe me to tell him about my day as his fingertips rubbed and rubbed. I itched to be released and used any excuse to get away.
I passed my junior and senior years at Mountain View High School. I had brought with me the punk attitude and look from California and I did not fit into any of the social groups at that school. There was a small rebellious crowd that were all shit kickers. I was isolated and stayed to myself, eating my meager lunch alone in the hallway away from the other students.
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The Hole Within
Non-FictionMy soul-searching story of a dark past. Growing up in a strict Mormon household I slowly withdraw into a dark world of my own; self-mutilating, suicide attempts and self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I go into therapy and discover repressed mem...
