Giving Up, Quitting, Resignation, Defeatist Behavior from Child Abuse, What is will?

I remember when I gave up trying to tell my mother that my dad was molesting me. She would hand my toddler body to him after he had washed up in the bathtub. His job then was to bathe me, in the same tub with him. Mom would hand me over to him.

After the first few times of dad touching me in uncomfortable places and such, I recognized when it was "bathtime with daddy" and started wailing, crying, screaming and clinging to mom.

Why didn't she understand what small me was trying to say? Trying to stop getting in the tub. Trying vehemently to stop the incest.

But mom just got upset and frustrated with my fighting. It turned her against me and made her want to hand me over to dad even more quickly.

It was a brief moment when I realized that the harder I fought, the more difficult the event would be.

So I quit fighting.

I realized it didn't matter what I wanted.

Resignation.

My life would always be dad groping and abusing, and I was helpless to change that trajectory.

I felt it in my chest, like a large dinner plate, kind of rectangular shaped in the upper chest, a few inches off my body. Grey in color, lifeless, dead, not numb rather non-existent, something missing and replaced with surrender. When I realized I was nothing but a body to be handed off when I became disagreeable or displayed the wrong emotion.

I quit things before I can lose. 

I don't start things I'll probably lose at.

Limp and numb.

It feels like loss and sadness sitting together, forever. Neither one willing to get off the bench their clothes are nailed to.

I didn't matter.

I wasn't human or a person just a thing to be used whenever others wanted.

It's like having no feet, no wheels, no way to get up and move forward.

I will lose, is the mantra, so I will not try.

It's screaming in a dark forest and no one ever hears you.

It's trying to stomp your foot in disgust but your foot just flails through the floorboard, impotent.

I was the dust on the wall; the cobweb in the corner.

Surrounded by paper walls, I could not punch through.

It's being invisible, turning on an invisible spit, roasting, just waiting for someone to come along and take a bite.

Fodder for the horses.

It's tough to make decisions when you are empty air.

What is human will? Do I have choice? Can I pick a direction? Do I have a say in my own life? Do I own me?

Can I own me?

What is human will?

Can I have some? How do I get it?

This large grey space near my chest.....how to fix?