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I was raped by my father when I was 8, it happened beside my mother. I guess they never knew that I recall everything that happened and they insisted on me keeping silent. The next one was when I was raped by my cousin during the summer of sixth grade. It lasted for about six years. The last attempt was last year. As no one would believe 17 years old me that all of these actually happened, it hurts. So much to the point, it took a toll on me more than once.
Each time I’d remember everything, my asthma would kick in badly. Times came when I actually contemplated suicide, tried suicide, and sometimes I still do. Because it takes too much for me to just hide everything. Every time I open up to someone, it feels like I’m involving another innocent person in my shitty situation. So I’m sorry. It’s too late for me to be saved. I’ve come to terms with that. To be honest, I don’t expect to gain anything from telling you about my experience.
“A small gesture can turn somebody’s situation around. Support survivors by ONLY leaving a kind and thoughtful comment.”
