It was dark, and my eyes struggled to focus. It was the first time I had ever seen a grown man’s penis. I couldn’t help but stare as his hot breath filled my nose. His hand was on my hair, pulling it and pinning me down simultaneously. His fingers were on my neck, strong and sweaty. It was getting hard to breathe and I thought I might throw up, but I did not fight. I did not plead. I did not cry. I just kept repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” as he violently stole my innocence.
It’s been 1 year since I got kicked out of my parents’ house. This year has been a wild roller coaster of ups and downs (more downs than ups, if we’re being honest here)…but I have grown so much. Getting kicked out was hard…and being guilt-tripped and begged to come back was even harder…but I made it. I didn’t give in and didn’t turn back. And now my relationship with my parents is better than it has been in years. Things were really rough for a while, but we’re all 1 year stronger. Who would have guessed?