It was around the age of 6-7 when it started. He had no house considering he came from another country. My step dad and mom decided to let him live with us. So we made the garage into a room for him because we lived in a small house, already with 5 people in it before he moved in. Anyway it started off amazing, he was so fun to hang out with. He'd play with me and my brothers, and when he came back from work he'd bring us toys. But what I didn't know was, him moving in would be fucking hell a month later. So it was a month after him moving in, when I would walk out of my room to the couch he would grab my arm, gripping it tightly, and he would pull me on his lap, breathing creepily into my ear... A sound I will never be able to get out of my head, and slowly sliding his hand up my shirt, then down to my pants, then playing around in my underwear..
I know. It's short, but it's hard to write about with out breaking down. Also I don't expect many people to read this anyway.
YOU ARE READING
My story...
Non-FictionI've read many stories like this. So I've decided to tell my story dealing with it. It's a true story. And it haunts me every day. Trigger warning-- THIS CONTAINS SELF HARM AND SUICIDE ATTEMPTS.
