When we first met, I had a crush on you. Every time you looked at me and talked to me I got butterflies. I was 9 years old. I was a child with a crush on an older boy and you took advantage of that. You were supposed to be like a brother to me but the things you did to me were not brotherly. When you had your hand down my pants with a blanket over us so no one would know what was really happening; that was not brotherly. Things like this happened but it never went further. Until one day it did.
We were in your basement and you had me locked in the closet with you. I was screaming as you pulled down my pants. You put your hand over my mouth so no one would hear my screams for help. I clawed at your hand but you were so much bigger than me. You said if I promised not to scream you would take your hand off so I said okay. The second your hand was off of my mouth I screamed your mother's name as loud as I could. No one heard me. No one came to help. You put your hand back over my mouth and continued to try to take off your pants. Then we both heard your mother call down to us that lunch was ready; I was saved. You let me go and I pulled my pants up then walked upstairs as if nothing happened.
I never knew why I didn't say anything, but now I think I do. I didn't think anyone would care or believe me because they already knew. My parents already knew that this was going on. I wrote in my diary about you and instead of taking it seriously when they read about it, my parents decided to make it a dinner topic about how I needed to stop acting like a whore. I was told I needed to stop talking about how you touched me. From that moment on I knew no one cared. This was a regular thing that happened and I didn't understand why. I thought it was all my fault and that somewhere deep down I must have wanted it.
The abuse stopped many years later. I pushed all of those memories out of my mind until it became too much for me to handle. So, I asked you why. That was all I wanted to know. Why was I such an easy target for people like you? You told me that you just wanted to make me feel like a part of the family and you wanted to protect me. You apologized and said that it was just a kid's curiosity but you and I both know that it continued way past your childhood. I could maybe understand a 12-year-old, but how curious can a boy in high school be? How can a 17-year-old boy not know? You knew what you were doing to me and you knew how wrong it was. So your apology means nothing to me. I know now that I never wanted it. I don't need to be embarrassed by what you did to me. You do. I am stronger and braver because of what you did to me. I am finally moving on with my life.
I may not be able to do anything about what you did to me now, but you know who you are and you know what you did to me. And so do other people. Maybe someday I will be able to say what you did to me out loud. But until then, this is all I need.
