I was in elementary school. I was still happy. I was still trusting. I don’t remember much about it, but I can never forget them telling me to take my clothes of, the feeling of horror as she held my legs open. I thought she was supposed to help me. I have nightmares of his finger, of his laugh. Why did you find my screaming funny, dad?
I may never know the details of what happened that night, and that uncertainty is killing me. But every time I speak about this experience, every time I hug another woman who has gone through the same thing, it makes it just a little better. You got this.
