4 times.
I had to repeat the story 4 times.
4 times I had to say how the man I called my uncle touched me in ways a little girl should never be touched.
Each time I told the story I remembered every little detail that I spent late nights crying myself to sleep trying to forget.
I cried a little harder each time because each time I could feel his rough hands touching all over my body,
telling me that he would reward me if I was good.
I was 10 years old and back then a reward sounded good,
a reward just to let him touch me sounded like the easiest thing to do.
And even  though it wasn't the easiest thing to do,
I kept telling myself at the end you will get a reward.
I was a naïve little thing,
It was no one's fault but my own,
Every time he offered me a reward,
I never said no.
I never pushed him away,
I never screamed for help,
I never told my daddy,
even though he always asked.
It continued for 3 more years,
My temple was destroyed,
and I felt like I was beginning to rot.
Every other thought in my head was either a ****** or suicidal thought.
What did I do?
What did I do?
What did I do?
How could you?
I trusted you!
I loved you!
He destroyed me,
He took away all my innocence,
piece by piece,
little by little,
he completely destroyed my ******* mental process
and 3 years later,
when I finally cried for help,
I had to relive that terrible moment 4 times
I told my counselor and she called my mom,,
my mom was mad because I didn't tell her first,
I didn't tell her what he had done,
because I was afraid of the outcome
Then she told my dad,
and I could see the heartbreak in his eyes,
he disowned his brother for breaking his little girl inside.
And then I had to go to the authorities,
and the authorities bestowed fear in me.
The authorities recorded me
and questioned me
as if I wasn't the victim,
as if this was some made up story in my head.
And now they wonder why I wish I was dead,
because I can't enjoy ***,
because every time I'm touched I flinch
every time I am complimented I brush it off,
because to me I am not beautiful
How can I be beautiful when he made me feel so ugly.
When he broke all my barriers every time he touched me.
Now I am depressed,
and at the slightest mention of ***
I panic.
Because I am scared.
Because *** to me is nothing but pain.
My body clenches and I shy away,
because even though I know everyone is not the same,
*** to me, brings nothing but pain
The memories haunt me and the nightmares await.
I don't want to continue living life this way.
But I know that even though I smile the pain away,
deep down inside,
I will never be okay.