Today is my birthday, and as the thread title suggests it's a day of sadness as well as celebration. On this day last year the person who took it upon himself to save me from further child abuse died of cancer, here's my story and his. His is the story that matters because he was caring and brave enough to face the family of my abuser.Later in his life he did so much more and this is for him. My mother always had a weak heart, and was warned by her GP never to have children. She ignored his advice and I was born, she died six years later of a heart attack. Until that time my life was good, my parents loved me an my father tells me how happy we were too. The death of my mum hit him hard, and to soften the blow he sought solace at the bottom of a whisky bottle for quite a few years until it was forced from his hand. My godparents decided I should live with them as my dad was incapable of looking after me. This is where my nightmare started and continued for the six years to follow. The godp's already had two sons, one aged 12 and the other 16. The younger one was the predator, the older one had a girlfriend and didn't realise I existed. I settled in with the godp's and life was going ok, they assured me my dad would get better soon and all would be well. Within a few weeks my almost settled state was turned upside down. It started when younger son came into my room during the night, sitting on the side of my bed he said to me he was going to do something nice for me.Something I would like that was supposed to be for older girls, but as my mum had died and he felt sorry for me then I could have this gift now. He pulled down my pyjama bottoms and performed a non invasive sex act on me, in return for this "gift" I was to keep silent. His visits continued in the same manner for a few years, but gradually he expected more from me. First it was jerking him off ( sorry to be so crude here) then eventually I had to perform oral on him. It sickened and disgusted me to the point where I could barely eat. My godp's thought it was some kind of fad and indulged me when I asked for soup at every meal, the sight of a sausage on a plate sickened me. During the days I coped well enough, school was my escape and I flourished there. After school I went to the house of my best friend who struggled at times wth homework, we were in the same class and I was only too glad to help her. It also meant i could have time away from the house of my godp's and the second son. My 12th birthday was close and one day the second son told me he had another surprise for me, I dreaded finding out what it might be. Physically I was of slight build, and the second son was by then 18, tall and of muscular build. It was no surprise to me when he visited that same night, and what was to follow still lives on at the back of my memory. I was pinned down and raped, then sodomised and as a parting gift had to perform oral too. After this final act he produced a wet towel from somewhere and proceeded to clean me up.While he was cleaning me up he placed a hand over my mouth, no doubt to keep me quiet. Telling me again and again this was my fault and how much I deserved it, he said this was a lesson all girls had to learn and I was to keep quiet about it or else. Once he'd gone I lay in bed, the pain made it difficult to move but I decided I had to. After an hour or so I dressed and left the house as quietly as I could. Three am is a frightening time to be outside when you're 12 years of age, and much worse when you've undergone the ordeal I had. I walked the short distance to house of my best friend thinking if I could sleep there for the rest of the night I'd be fine. Her brother slept on the ground floor, he was by then a student and kept late hours and no doubt his parents saw the sense of not having him disturb the house when he arrived home in the small hours. And this was one of those nights, he had walked behind me all the way to his home wondering why I was out at 3am. Just as I arrived at the door he whispered my name, for a second I was convinced it was the son of my godp's and froze. Then I heard him whisper again saying his name. He asked me why I was outside, I was too scared to tell him and insisted he wake up his sister so that I could sleep in her room. None of my thoughts made sense and he realised I was in trouble and in great pain too. Keeping his distance he asked me to tell him what was so bad to bring me out in the middle of the night. He told me of his plans to become a doctor and said anything he could help me with he would, I had only to ask. I asked him to go and get my dad, I begged him to go, and he said he would. First I had to go into the house quietly and get some sleep in his room, there was a lock on the door and I would be safe there. He opened the door and I went to his room, turned the key in the lock and slept for the first time in what felt like a hundred years. Sometime later , it must have been hours I woke up at the sound of tapping on the bedroom door and the voice of my dad asking me to tell him what was wrong. I opened the door and from then my life began again happily. After leaving me that night the older brother of my friend went to the house of my godp's and told them I wouldn't be returning, he then walked ten miles to see my dad and tell him it's was time to sober up because I needed him more than he needed whisky. He did more that night too, by shaking up my dad he saved him from further damage to his own health. R went on to become a doctor, worked in war torn Africa and saw humanity at it's worst and best. For me he was a wonderful human being. If he had not taken the time to persuade me to go into his room and sleep I don't know where I would have gone, or what might have happened next to me. Although he's no longer here in body his spirit is still alive, in Africa, in his family and last of all me.