How could you do that to me? I was only ten. I know it would have gotten you into trouble, regardless of your reasoning or excuses, but you were an adult. Not just any adult, you were supposed to be my protector. Then you violated me not once but twice and when it got out because I didn’t know what to do with my confused silence anymore, you denied it ever happened. You couldn’t even actually use the words liar when saying it either because I bet the guilt was too much. Instead you used a gaslight method and told me I must have been dreaming and how sorry you were that I thought this had happened to me. Every one else called me a liar though. They said it was my fault when charges were pending, because I felt I deserved justice. When they said it was my word against his and touched my shoulder assuring me that they were sorry I felt this had happened to me though it was just another line passed along to fuel the manipulation already planted in my head. They called me slut. I thought they were my family. I thought they were supposed to love me. I thought I was supposed to tell the truth. I just let it eat me up until I felt numb over it and convinced myself I was over it and it didn’t matter. I’d find myself remembering and thinking I must have thought it up in my head. Why would I think of such a sick thing? What is wrong with me? I must be a trouble maker. All these bad things keep happening to me and it must be because I did something wrong and now I am being punished for it. For years and years I tried to get over something that “didn’t happen” and I thought I had actually succeeded. Fixed and stitched an invisible cut. Ten years later I found myself screaming at you over the phone about other events and it just all came pouring out of me like vomit. How you’ve made me feel and how I don’t trust you. Then you said those words that broke the spell that has held me captive all these years. You said you were sorry but you didn’t realize what you were doing until I had left the bed and that you didn’t even remember the second time. You were a fucking coward and so you let me carry the pain you inflicted and the pain of everyone crucifying me for speaking out. What you did broke my heart and betrayed my trust, but pretending nothing happened and making me live with that fucked with my head on so many levels. I thought I was crazy. I wanted to take my life because the pain that forms after feeling lost and confused for so long is absolutely intangible. I thank God I didn’t succeed because what a waste of a life it would have been. I know now that I have strength in numbers. I am stronger than a scared grown man. I am stronger than death. I carried that weight for you because I know you wouldn’t have made it. You couldn’t carry that cross. I’m still working on getting over it as I find little fragments of my first betrayal coming up. At least now I can forgive you knowing it was your mistake and not mine.