The new stuff:
The drug on the spoon rendered me completely unable to move a single muscle in my body. This brought sadness and tears.
My eyelids were half-closed allowing me to watch him undress and do things until I did blackout. I did hear him finish, the sound up above my nine-year old head.
Then it got strange as I found myself in my grandmother's arms being propped up. Apparently, the drugs may have been too much as I was not responding and I could not swallow. The grandmother held the cup with dark liquid in front of my face, pouring some in through my lips but I could not swallow.
I was aware of uncle priest getting dressed, showing a bit of concern as grandmother told him to hurry up and leave. She called out for my dad who assisted with cold washcloths to my face, one on each side. I remember the scratchy feel of them on my skin as I started become conscious.
Things still swirled in my head but I could see my bare feet hanging over the bed. Then I could feel them.
My grandmother, I could feel her fear at all the places my back was pressed against her body. Fear feels erratically prickly and I could this emanating from her. I had never known her to feel an ounce of fear (or remorse, for that matter) until this event.
Then the sound of coughing, sputtering was me as my throat started working again. Felt a little like recovering from drowning, too much liquid.
Then I could feel my hands. I regained control of my head and neck. I felt wasted. Physically. Whatever drug that was, it left me exhausted and sore and just feeling wrong all over.
I didn't "feel" the rape due to the drug I was fed but I saw...I saw what my uncle incest priest did of his own freewill and volition.
My dad drove me there, to my great-grandmother's house where my grandmother drugged me so her brother could rape me.
I was 9 years old.
That is, was my family.
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