Khadija’s father


 I will start by saying: these blogs about my childhood trauma I’m  telling you guys; is a heavy topic. Sensitive people and minors are advice to not read this. The content contains rape, violence, mental abuse, physical abuse, and death. Pedophiles, molesters and a lot of narcissism.

I write here to sort out my flashbacks and memories. But also, to leave something for investigation, in case something bad happens to me. I have survived a lot and it would be a shame to get this far and not be able to tell my story, just in time.

This is in Sweden.


Khadija’s father

A man who never seems to age and thinks he is funny, still. Walking around like he about to fetch someone but still keeping a smile on his lips with a pair of lying eyes. He had to change his surname when his family moved from Uppsala to Stockholm.. hmm.

This man is one of the “refugees” that came from Tunisia for “political” reasons.  Al Nahdha. The Rise party, but the only thing that they rise is their penises.


He has a marijuana plantation in his own house.


Uppsala – When I was around 6-7 years. It was winter since me and his daughter has the same birthday month – February. And we went for the first time to have a birthday party.

When we were in his house he used to beat his daughter way too much. She always had a fever and was sick. Crying whenever we were with him alone. He used to use me as an example and beat up his own daughter for no reason. Just because he can. Sometimes he beat me too with a sock that he put an orange in. He told me I was special right in front of his own daughter.

Nevertheless, he made us eat our own shit. He made sure we finished what we thought at first was chocolate ice cream. Which it was at first, but the more we ate the more we realized he was wicked.

I remember waking up to something very hot in a dark room. He used to spill some of the candle stearin on my body. I used to cry and then he would hit me even more.

He used to have sex with us on the couch. Yep, his wife knew – this was very planned by all the grown-ups. The only people who didn’t know were the small people, us kids. We thought we were playing.

He also used to recycle things in a creative way. He created a swing chair of an old chair that he had in their living room.

He always used chemicals in the bathroom sink and in the kitchen sink for some reason. He even used soda and said that coke was the best to cleanse with.

Once his daughter by accident opened her parents closet to show me something and I saw some bodies hanging as if they were clothes and I called my father. I had seen three cloth bags with bodies in them. They took them away and showed me the closet again and nothing was in there. They live in an apartment in a high-rise and there were those trash tunnels right outside of the doors so one doesn’t have to go all the way down to throw the garbage.

They used to throw bodies down there. They were very careful with sensitizing bodies. Before they got rid of them they had them washed in the washing machine. Damn right, they had bodies hanging in the bathroom. From the ceiling above the bathtub. At different occasions, I have seen a dark man and a Swedish woman hanging there dead. The man was probably gay. Since they believe they have the right to punish people for “sins”. 

He had a box filled with Silica gels. He told us to not eat it because it’s toxic and we could die. He only gave it to the “enemy”.

They used to do a lot of silly stupid shit as well like going around with a graffiti bottle and just cuz vandalism. He used to burn things. He even burned buildings. My dad was with him and did the same shit. They both triggered each other.

In one of those strolls, they saw two attractive teenagers. They had short shorts on lace/knitted sweaters. So he just went for one of them and attacked her. All the others that were around, except her friend, of course, acted as if the fight was between them two. As if this man and this girl knew each other. When her friend realized she doesn’t even know him the other men got involved. Hit them both and kidnapped both of them. My father was one of them. This was in summer.


Bredäng – Sex in the car 

This man, let’s call him the puppet because he used sock puppets when we were kids. His wife’s brother lives in the same area. They used to go on a small road trips, not being aware my dad drives taxi and I’m pretty familiar with the area anyway.

They smoked marijuana in the car and went into an industry place where they raped me as if they wanted me to die. The shit narcissists do. Rape you and blame you. Him and his wife’s brother, two of their neighbors.

I remember not standing him at all because he talked too much and just wanted to hurt me. By the way that’s what they all do. They just want to hurt little children to feel manly. He hit me with belts and humiliated me. It was total madness. I used to feel privileged because those who didn’t know them didn’t have the privilege of keeping their lives. Different girls I have never seen before were in different cars with these rapists.

He introduces some of his friends into this game of rape as well, with me as his tool.

Because I was intoxicated I did some of them most stupid stuff in an attempt to defend myself. I used to try karate kicks when I heard them talking about getting rid of the girls. I couldn’t even see and thought they meant me. That’s when I opened my eyes and realized there were other girls around.

As they always do in this town, they asked me a lot of questions to make sure I was still intoxicated. Like: How many men have you sleep with, where are you, how old are you. I was around 10-11 years. It’s a good thing I don’t know names of places. I know how to find a place I have been to though.

They gave us alcohol and marijuana and other shit.
One of those times something had happened to me so they had to take me to a doctor. Funny, the same man sold Marijuana. This is close to Sätra IP In Bredängen, he sold me to a somali man. They actually dumped me there and barely gave me any phone number. They couldn’t give a fuck about what would happen to me and my sister. Until this day, it’s a mystery how I managed to call him. He was like how did you do it. I have no clue myself, I barely could open my eyes.

This doctor just wanted to hit it as well. And was fighting with me. He left the car and went up somewhere. I called them, he lived nearby. The puppet man came back and then killed the Somali man.

The Somali man had been down in a basement mosque, and when heard the gun shoot they came up.

The puppet man and his friends had hidden away behind a container and put me in it with a gun. My sister was still in the dead Somali man’s car.  And while these somali men were talking trash and looking for the puppet man, the puppet man and his friends came around a container and shot them too. (This doesn’t end here – in another post.)


ANFS – 9’th class

At ANFS, a private school in Stockholm, he let me be in his French classes because I wanted to prepare for French, in what we have here in Sweden; gymnasium. When i was there with one of MKD daughters, my own brother, and Amin. I always felt dizzy and sleepy. They all used to watch me as if they were waiting for me to doze off. I thought they were just going to prank me but I tried to stay up-

A lot of the people I once thought was harmless have turned out be frenemies and sell-outs.

This is the school year that me and his daughter reunited. Even though I held warm memories of her and she was a bit of a best friend that I missed from childhood. But she was cold and didn’t want us to get close or talk. As if she had heard gossip about me and I knew it was MKD’s daughter. Turns out, she is fully convinced by herself. She was aware of what her father was doing, haveing sex with children. And she helped him to get me. Even MKD’s daughter helped him. Well she helped a lot of people. (This will be a post of it’s own.)

In this school, ANFS, all the guys in my class have raped me and they did so with the help of grown ups that worked/work there. They used to take pictures and film. (ANFS will be a post of it’s own as well.)


Morocco – 2014

You know sometimes it feels safe to see a familiar face in a sea of strangers. But not with this man. I felt a bit better to quite frankly. Stalking me at the airport in Morocco. We took the same plane from Arland, he saw me sitting at business class and gave me the look of “that ain’t right”. At the airport in Morocco had stalked me wherever I went he was there.

The next flight from Morocco to Tunisia was late and people were fighting in the airline office because they wanted somewhere to stay over the night. Some of them had crossed the Atlantic ocean from the US. I just remember strolling around the airport and feeling overly thirsty and overheated. Looking for a safe place to lay my head or take a nap. I sat outside in front of the baggage check-in and seeing him sitting a bit away.

Every time I dozed off he came a bit closer. Until he came and talked to me. I didn’t talk much to him but I gave him a smile. So anyone watching would be like, yeah they know each other.

Finally, I went into a small mosque at the airport and sat there and tried to get some sleep but couldn’t. To be continued -> (Morroco-Tunisia transfer will be in the other post.)


Thank you for reading through!

Sorry if you thought I was still your naive friend and you had to wait for me to verify our friendship.

Rest assure. This is nothing compared to last Judgement’s day. Or the days coming soon. 



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