I remember the feeling of his rough callused hands, the way they scoured my body for pleasure. I remember laying there, staring up at the clouds, wondering if someone would see. Wondering if someone would justify this feeling of violation. But no one came. No one stopped him. I’d never felt so alone, so lost. How could God allow this to happen to me, an innocent pig-tailed lover of books. It’s all so hard to recall, like trying to remember a dream you had moments after waking up. It’s foggy, but you can gather bits and pieces and conjure up the traumatic memory.
He was supposed to be my father’s closest friend. I trusted him because my father did. In that moment i felt betrayal for the first time. It was a bitter taste, like copper in my mouth.
He was supposed to be my father’s closest friend. I trusted him because my father did. In that moment i felt betrayal for the first time. It was a bitter taste, like copper in my mouth.