I was 3…he was 31. He was molesting me. He would come at night into the bedroom I shared with my younger brother. Wake me up, take me to another room and do things that no child should ever have to experience. When I was 4 I told my mother what was happening. I told her but she chose to believe him. I receive the worse beating of my life that day for lying about ‘him’. That beating was well worth it because although I continued to hate him and live in fear, he never molested me again. That man died when I was 10 and the absolute freedom I experienced at his death was profound. I didn’t tell anyone else until I was 16. If I could say one thing to victims it is this…TELL. And if the person you tell doesn’t believe you, tell someone else. Many adults in my life have said, “If you had only told me.” Keep on telling until you are believed!
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