Molestation: The True Story

Chapter 3

That was all five years ago.
When Percy molested me, I was ten, and he was fifteen.
I've had to live with the guilt of what Percy had done to me for five painful years of my life.
Since the night it all first started, I couldn't help but feel different from other kids my age.
I couldn't make friends without feeling different. Too different.
And just to add more stress, I couldn't help but have questions about my gender. Even now, I still have troubles finding out who I truly am.
That's when I lost it. 5/21/16 is when I told my mom the full story of what happened that one night, five years ago.
I didn't leave anything out. I even told her of the time when my babysitter's daughter made me have sex with her.
She cried, and my heart broke.
After our conversation, my mom talked to my stepdad and told him my story. She was mad, and raised her voice at him.
I understood, though. She was just mad at Percy for doing what he did to me.
The rest is a blur. All I remember doing was crying until my eyes burnt.
I was so relieved that after all this time, I finally told the truth. But I was also afraid that my parents were disappointed in me.
My mom came into my room a few times and asked for anymore details I may have forgotten, and my stepdad also came in and asked how I was doing.
After a while, I was feeling well enough to get some tea.
But before I could, my grandparents came. Come to find out, my mom told my grandma what happened.
That too, is nothing but a slight blur to me. All I remember is finishing cooking my tea, and walking out to the chicken coop in the back of the house, while my mom and stepdad were somewhere talking privately as my grandparents watched my two little sisters.
Once out in the chicken coop, I picked up a pocketknife I took out of my room earlier to cut my left upper leg, when I gave in to stress earlier that day.
As I picked up the knife, the sound of rain outside drumming in my ears, I cut my wrists side to side, up and down, and diagonally. Any way I could think of.
I made sure to not cut too deep, but to cut enough so a small amount of blood would come out.
And I didn't stop cutting both wrists until I accomplished my mission.
After I was satisfied, I threw the knife across the coop, crying and dry heaving until I couldn't take it anymore. I knew what I had to do.
Sliding my coat sleeves down over my wrists, I walked inside the house to tell my grandma that I needed to speak with her, and waited back out in the chicken coop while I waited.
Once she came into the chicken coop, I told her how I felt.
I told her that ever since Percy had molested me, that I felt like a slut, and a freak.
We embraced for a while, talked, cried, everything that should be expected for a conversation like that one.
But then I showed her my wrists.
She kept repeatedly asking me what I did,until I told her the truth, and pointed to where my knife was thrown at.
She took it, saying that she was going to take it away from me, and we both went back inside the house.
While we waited for my parents to come back inside the house, my grandma helped me clean my wounds before I took out my Darkling beetle pets to hold.
My parents soon came back inside, and I called my mom to my room, and showed her the cuts.
Later that day, once my grandparents left and everything settled down a bit, I showed my stepdad where all of my pocketknives were, and gave him the porcalin dragons Percy gave me.
I'm glad to be rid of them, but not as glad as I am to be alive.