I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m Sorry.

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.

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