My mother got married to Gerd for one reason... he had money and lots of it. She wanted the money and he wanted us.
Gerd was and is a pedophile and always will be. Why I did not say anything is because no cop, no D.A. will believe a recovering addict who has a known history of self-abuse, served jail time, suicide attempts and an extensive mental health treatment file; against two people who are rich, give money to the town, and are V.I.P.'s at the Police Ball. See my point?
My sister and I were very happy about the wedding. We thought the abuse would stop, but she never quit beating us - in fact, he joined her.
The night of the wedding my sister stayed in my aunts house and I was at home, which was very unusual for my mother, to have me at home with her. My Mother came to my room where I was reading and told me to come to her bedroom. As usual I followed her orders very quickly.
Gerd was laying on the bed in his underwear. That was nothing new for me to see. I was more then once exposed to male body parts at that time and my age. Gerd asked me to sit down on the bed because they have to talk to me. I sat and my mother pushed me down and held me, and Gerd ripped my panties off and raped and sodomized me. Three times that night. I was told that if I would tell or resist, they would kill my little sister or do it to her. I was very protective of my sister and I kept quiet for a very long time.
This went on for about 3 years, nearly every day and often more then once. It was very painful and it destroyed me as the child that I was at that point. What came out of it, was somebody very self destructive, not caring, ashamed , hurting and not a nice person anymore. I tried to run away more then once. I beat children up, I smoked hash all the time. It makes getting raped a lot easier if you are stoned. I hung out with older bikers and got drunk often.
Then I got pregnant from my stepfather Gerd at the age of 12. Adrian my son was born two months after I turned 13 and I gave him to my aunt to be adopted. To this day I've kept from my son who his father is.
Soon I was back on my feet, which was about two months later. By this time I already had to listen to my sister getting raped from my stepfather, so I taught her how to smoke pot. My life was a mess.
I ran away again, with a 26 year old biker to Amsterdam. Drugs are legal there, that was the main attraction. I stole from my mother about 500 Deutsche Marks (which was at that time about 250 dollars) and off we went.
A week later I was a teenage prostitute, working for drugs and to support the biker. I never thought there was anything wrong with it. It was the same thing that my mother did but this time at least I got money and drugs out of it. This only makes sense if you are a drug addict.
I got busted for underage prostitution, spent 5 days in jail, and my mother had to come pick me up. They were very lenient with me, I just had to say that I would not come back to Amsterdam soon.
My mother opened a small hotel and restaurant with the money she got from selling me to Gerd. They cleaned me up the best they could, tried to put me back in school, and gave me a job in the restaurant. By this point the whole small town thought they knew what was going on - that I had a baby and that I was caught as a prostitute - but they only heard my mothers version of the story.
I kept up trying to slowly destroy myself. I had more sex by the age of 15 then most women had by 45. My drug habit and my drinking got worse. I binged and purged, and I cut severly. I was very self destructive so I ended up in a child psychiatric clinic. I got kicked out because I broke the director's nose after we had a long fight. I ended up back home.
Then I dated a guy named Atze, who was tattooed from his mohawk down to his feet. He was in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most tattoos ever. Somehow he decided to give me a visit in my mother's posh restaurant. My mother took one look at him and I was off to a nunnery in Switzerland for 3-1/2 years. No talking, no drinking, no freedom - only prayers, school and nuns.
At 18 I left and went back to my aunts house. For about 2 years I did really good. I had two jobs, my own apartment, and more or less healthy relationships off and on. I made friends and then I met the most abusive man of my life.

This will be the end of part two. If you want to know more about what happened just click next.