Faith Allen’s Story – Momster’s Friends

*******trigger warning – female offender sexual-abuse*******

Momster and my father never had any friends, so I was never appropriately socialized. I never went on play dates with other children. I mostly played with my sister and watched TV during the early years.

When I was around 7, my mother suddenly had a group of women to hang around with. I suspect that this was all part of the cult grooming, which I will get into later. Each of these women sexually abused me. They simply picked up where my mother left off.

E was the mother of a kid who was a year ahead of me in school. One day, I was supposed to walk home from school with E’s kid and her friends so E could babysit me. I was 7. I was very excited to be hanging out with older kids – heck, to be hanging out with any kids. E rushed me downstairs as soon as I got there and told the other kids that I had just wet my pants, which was a lie. She turned on the shower and took out a butcher knife. She laid the knife down within her reach, told me to undress, and got naked herself. She took a shower with me and sexually abused me. This was the first time that someone other than my mother had done this to me, and it cut me deeply. It taught me that nobody was safe.

I begged my parents for piano lessons, so my mother set me up with another one of her new friends, B. B had a daughter my age who had a Baby Alive, and I really wanted one myself. One day, instead of giving me a piano lesson, B told me that she had bought me my own Baby Alive. It was in her bedroom, and I should follow her there. She led me into a large walk-in closet with two doors – one leading to the hallway, which we entered, and one leading to the bedroom, which she locked behind her when she exited, leaving me in the dark closet alone. I fumbled back to the other door, and it was locked as well. I panicked, not understanding what was happening. B returned and sexually abused me. She also commented upon my prowess in performing oral sex on her.

Well into adulthood, I was plagued with a recurring nightmare that followed this sequence of events. Someone I trusted would lead me through a door into a small room and then exit a second door. The second door would be locked. I would run to the first door, and it would be locked as well. I would go into a complete panic. Sometimes I would wake up before anything happened. Other times, huge men would come rape me. It wasn’t until I recovered this memory that I stopped being plagued by this nightmare.

From that day forward, I have hated dolls.

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Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt

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