“Stop, Daddy” – I’m only 8 years old
By Tomika Smith & Edited by Kim Gibson

When I was a very young child I experienced things that most kids don't see until they are at least teenagers. I don't recall my exact age when I first saw my father put his hands on my mother in a violent way. She was terrified. I was traumatized. I couldn't understand why he would do such a terrible thing to her while claiming that he loved her. Love is not bruises and broken bones.

My father was a very abusive man who had no shame. He had a drinking problem, a gambling problem and a drug problem. It seems that he had every problem that there was to have. As a child, I didn't understand that I should have been praying for his recovery, rather than his death. I know now that was wrong, but all I could do at the time was ask God to remove him from my life. I didn't care how he did it. I just wanted him to leave and stop hurting my family. Not only was he physically abusive, but he was mentally abusive as well. He would beat my brother just for the sake of having something to do. Numerous times, he stated that he hated my brother. I know that this wasn't his child, but that was no reason for his hatred. He took my mother as his wife, so he should also have taken the responsibility of raising my brother as his own child.

The abuse didn't stop there. He abused me, his very own daughter. My father began having sex with me in 1982, when I was only eight years old. He didn’t allow me to play with other children or do the things that other kids did. At the age of eight, I was already in an adult position. Unlike many of you, I never experienced losing my virginity to my dream man that swept me off my feet. Instead, I lost my virginity to my own father. This is not how it was supposed to be. I know you are probably wondering how it all began. I will try to explain it to you the best way that I know how. While my mother was away from home one day, I was laying on the floor watching television beside the bed where my father was sleeping. Shortly after he woke up, he asked me to join him in the bed. I was too young to understand why he wanted me to get in the bed with him, So I did as my father asked me to do. He immediately started to fondle my breast and rub on my private area. As he began to force himself inside of me, he told me to just relax and said, “This is not going to hurt.” He lied as usual, it really did hurt.

After he did what he wanted , he told me to go and wash myself off. He was laying there all high and mighty smoking a cigarette and acting like what he had just done was all right. Every time I asked him what he was doing, he would assure me that all dads did this to their daughters. When I was old enough to realize what he was doing, I told him that I would tell Mom about it .He promised to kill me if I did. Did I believe that he would do it? Of course I did, He had nearly beaten me to death before.I was already keeping secrets and telling lies just to survive. I was afraid to lose my life, but in reality, I was already dead inside. I was a young child living in a nightmare trying to stay sane and remain focused. It was really hard for me to do but God was there in the midst of my trials and tribulations. He kept my head above the water.

Daddy was one of those men that would try to buy your love. He showered me with gifts to try and compensate for all the wrong that he had done to me. How many of you know that those gifts really weren't free? I surely knew it, because everything that he purchased for me came with a price tag. He never bought me anything out of the kindness of his heart. There was one Christmas in particular that I remember like it was yesterday. He bought me a red ten-speed bike. I didn't want it because I knew that he would want something in return. It’s a shame when you can't even accept gifts from your own father. After he gave me the bike, he asked me to have sex with him. I said, "You can keep that bike because I don't want it." He looked at me with anger in his eyes and then he grabbed me and started to choke and hit me. He said, "Look you little black b$&ch. you are going to do it, and you are going to like it." He continued to hit me and rip my clothes off while saying, "Do you actually think that I would buy you something for nothing?" I couldn't believe that this man was my real father. It was hard to call him Daddy because he had never been what a father should be to me. I wondered, how much more of this could I handle before I had a nervous breakdown? I became a hermit crab, isolated from the world. During this time I became someone no one wanted to be around anyway.

I had a major attitude problem, and I was very angry all the time. I started to do things that would gain attention from others. I was crying out for help in my own little desperate way. I had given up on everything. Concentrating was not one my strong points. My attention span wasn't even as long as a child in the first grade. All I could think about was how I could get myself out of this situation. I thought that he would change and that life would be back to normal soon, but it didn't end there. It continued for years after that. When I was twelve years old , my mother noticed a change in my body and asked if I was having sex. I lied and told her no, but she took me to the doctor to get a checkup, only to find out that she had checked too late. I was already pregnant. I cried and cried. I was so ashamed and disgusted, but I couldn't tell a soul. My mother was furious. She asked me, "How in the world could you be having sex?" She wanted to know who the father was, but I couldn't tell her the truth, so I told her a lie about the father's name.

I remembered the threat my father had made to me if I told her, So we went on from there, she said that I needed to have an abortion. I agreed that would be the best thing to do. The only thing that my mother could think about was how in the world my dad was going to react. She said, "He is going to kill you." If she only knew that he didn't have the right to say anything. It was his baby. When my mother took the big step and told my father, he only asked, "How much will it cost for her to have the abortion?" Normally my dad would go off the deep end if he thought that I was close to a boy, so my mother became suspicious after that. She began to ask questions, but I still couldn't confide in her because I didn't know how she would handle it. I just left well enough alone. After I had the abortion, I began to have nightmares about the child. I asked God to please take them away. I couldn't believe that it was even on my conscience because I was the innocent person, At least that is what or so I thought. In reality that child was even more innocent than I was. I just wasn't willing to take the responsibility of raising a child that would be a constant reminder of all the pain that I had endured for so long.

It is sad to say but (Besides I thought,) “What kind of mother would I be to a child when I was only a child myself.” Not long after that, my father was trying to make me have sex with him again. I was running all through the house as he chased me. He finally caught me and was dragging me by the hair, when he pulled me past the door, I unlocked it without him noticing. He finally got me in the back bedroom and was doing his ungodly business, when my younger uncle came in the house. My father was so distracted that he didn't hear my uncle walk in the house. When my uncle opened the door and saw what my father was doing to me, he went into shock. He started screaming and yelling and crying and calling my dad names. Dad jumped up from the bed, ran after my uncle and tried to bribe him with money. My uncle was simply not having that, he took the money and hit my dad in the face with it and said, "I am telling my sister." I knew from that point on, that my life was about to really go down hill. I know you are probably thinking that my life should have gone uphill, but how could it when I was still afraid for my life? Finally someone else knew besides me and God, but I still couldn't tell. My uncle said, "Tomika, you don't have to go through this anymore, we can put a stop to him right now."

I began to cry and just wanted to believe that this could really happen. Once again, my dad reinforced the promise to kill me if I told. My mother spent most of her time at work to avoid being at home with my dad ,when she finally came home from her long work day, my uncle ran over to the car and began to tell the story of what he had seen. Mom was in shock and couldn't believe her ears. She said, "Are you sure? Please don't make up stuff like this." The look on his face told the whole story however, and she believed him. As she approached the house, I could tell she was really mad, but here was nothing I could do to confirm what my uncle said he had seen. She sat us all down and asked if it was true. My dad said no and so did I. How could my uncle prove it, It was our word against his. My uncle began to shout, "Come on, Tell the truth, please. We can end this." But the eyes of the devil sitting across from me were putting more fear into my heart, and I just couldn't say that it was the truth. Even though my heart was saying it, no one could hear it but God. There was really nothing that my mother could do at that time, because she couldn't get either of us to tell the truth. First the pregnancy and now this. She was really getting suspicious and watching and peeking. Now, whenever she would leave the house, she would ask if I wanted to go. Sometimes I would go and other times my dad wouldn't let me go.

I just wanted to end her suspicion, but I couldn't. Eventually my dad started to give me a little freedom. He allowed me to play outside the house and allowed some girl friends to come over. I had one particular friend that always asked, "Why won’t your dad let you do anything, and why is he always watching you?" I looked at her in a very strange way and said, "You will not believe me if I tell you." She said, "Yes I will. Tell me." I began to tell her the sad story of my life with my dad, and she was about to lose her cool. She said, "Are you serious? I am telling your mother." I begged her not to tell because this would be another person telling my mom something that I couldn't confirm. She promised me that if I didn't tell my mother at choir rehearsal, she would. There was a lady at choir rehearsal that began to pray, and the words that came from her mouth were just for me. The tears started to roll down my face. Mom looked over and said, "Keep praying, keep praying. It's just the devil coming out of her." The lady continued to pray. My friend looked over at me, and my mother said, "Wait, I don't think that is the devil. Something is wrong with my child." She told me to come with her, and I did. Choir rehearsal back then was in a little music room at my grandmother’s house, so we went outside on the steps.

I began to tell her what had happened. As tears rolled down her face, she said, "I am going to kill him! I am going to kill him!" The fear of her killing him was not the fear that I had. The fear of it backfiring on her was the fear that overcame me. I was so afraid that she was going to say something to him that night that I asked if I could spend the night with my elderly great-grandmother. I knew that if she confronted him, he would kill us all. She approved and said that we would handle the situation first thing in the morning. My uncle was there once again. He stayed there with her to be sure that she didn't do anything drastic. So that next morning, my mother and I got into the car and went to the police department. She told them everything and told them not to go alone to pick him up because he was a violent man. The police officer asked us to not return home until they had picked him up. We followed the orders of the policeman. A few officers got into their cars and went to pick up my dad. They surrounded the house in case he tried to run, and took him off to jail. I thought that this was a new beginning, but instead this is where things became really difficult.


About Tomika
Tomika Smith, daughter of Darlaine Smith. She is a sister, friend and most important - a true believer in the Master - Jesus Christ She has a desire to fulfill the purpose that God has for her life and to give hope to the hopeless.You can reach Tomika at tomikasmith@comcast.net

About the Interviewer & Editor
Kim Gibson, wife, mother, believer in Jesus Christ and always striving to do His will. Her passion is to extend the same Agape love Christ has for the world to others and hope that the pages and chapters in my life are a blessing to others. Contact her at kgibson@breatheagain.org

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