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A letter from a broken toy To whom it may concern: I really don't even know what to call you. I have done such a masterful job of blocking your name from my conscious mind that I am not sure of it anymore, and you might not even remember mine, but I was one of your toys, all those years ago. Only God and you know how many of us there were. I do not know if I can do justice to the havoc you have created in your search for self gratification. But I must try, if only for my own peace of mind. You striped me of 2 years of my life, feeding me drugs to make me compliant, warping my mind to better suit your sick fantasy. Nor did the damage end when my time with you was up. The drugs presently damaged my ability to remember and concentrate, and the filth in my mind cannot ever be removed. I am damaged goods, now and until I die, thanks to you. I was a child, entrusted to your care and you betrayed that trust in the most repulsive way imaginable. I believe it was your goal to twist me in such a way as so I would enjoy your invasion of my body, make me even crave my humiliation at your hands. Well, you succeeded. I cannot enjoy a healthy relationship, but instead I find myself wanting to be the submissive sissy you apparently wanted me to be. Or did you envision me as a girl the way I often do? I have come to loathe the testosterone that flows in my body, to hate and fear my own sexual organs and any sensations they produce. That's your legacy. No court could give you a strong enough sentence, nothing on this earth could equal your crimes. As a Christian, I must forgive, but I am finding it extremely difficult not to wish to be present when you must appear before God and finally have the masks and lies stripped away from you before you receive justice. Yet I must forgive, and even ask for mercy on your behalf. I have no choice but to leave your fate to Him and find a way to move on with my life. And that's what I plan to do, with God's help. A former victim, now a survivor.

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