Man, I haven't done anything for a few years now 😂 Anyways, I wrote this piece to move on and accept what happened to me. If you are uncomfortable about the topic of sexual assault, I will not recommend to read this story.
Also there may be a lot of grammar errors, but this was the way I wrote it and I don't want to change anything. Thank you for reading this piece and hope you all have a wonderful day/night. ❤️
~Natsu12345
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What does it mean to be a survivor? I did not realize I was a victim of sexual assault until last year. I kept my story a secret from my own mother. I kept it to myself until my senior year of high school. My mom found out way too soon cause it also happened to my sister as well.
Did your Abuelito touch you? This question that my mother asked me. I was shocked and nervous to answer, but I told her.
This all started when I was ending my eighth-grade year. It was the summer and I usually go to Mexico to see my dad. My dad was deported when I was in fifth grade, and my siblings and I would usually go to Mexico in the summer for three months. However, that summer was the last time I went to see my dad. That summer haunts me to this day. I did not want to believe that it happened to me. I did not like the fact that I am a victim. I pushed that summer into the back of mind and tried to forget about it. However, it creepily comes back at night. Every single fucking night. Even in my dreams, it haunts me. I can't escape that summer. I did not understand what was happening to me. That whole summer, I avoided my Abuelito and the upstairs room. I felt scared around him because of what he did to me, especially during the rest of the year when I came back to the United States.
But one day, when I was at my great grandmother's house, I received a phone call from my mom. My Abuelito died from a heart attack on the streets of Morelia while walking back to his home. I cried that day so hard. I cried for a man who touched me. I cried for a man who loved me as his granddaughter. I regret avoiding him. I blamed myself for what happened to me after he died. I should have to suck it up and spend time with my abuelito, but I was scared to go near him.
On the other hand, I learned that it was not my fault. I'm writing this story because I want to move on and it was time to acknowledge that summer as a part of me now. It is time to forgive my Abuelito. He was a good man to me and my family. I connected most with him as a child growing up. I love you, Abuelito and I will never forget you in my heart.
