By me

I think about it and I can’t move. I can’t feel anything but your hands on me. You were my cousin, my playmate. Now you’re just someone that took my innocence away from me. At 12 years old you would think you’d know what “No” and “Stop” mean. But that’s all you ever heard from your parents. You didn’t listen to me because you were in control this time. You didn’t stop because you didn’t want to. I was 11. I didn’t deserve it, and I didn’t even know what was happening. I didn’t realize that it was r*pe until I was 19, I didn’t even hardly remember it happened until I was 19. Now, I’m left traumatized and sick to my stomach everytime I think about it. But you have no idea. You probably don’t remember it. I wish I could punch you. I wish I could scream. I’m sleeping in my dorm room at 20 years old, waking up from nightmares of you touching me. You didn’t listen. You didn’t care. “I just want to try it.” You said. “It’ll be fun.” You said. The flashbacks aren’t fun. The trauma isn’t fun. The nightmares aren’t fun. The trigger attacks aren’t fun. It wasn’t fun for me. It was traumatizing. I keep telling myself that other people have it worse than me. But even if they do, that doesn’t excuse what you did to me. I hate you. I wish you’d burn. I didn’t deserve this.