It started when I was six years old. He was an extended family member at around 11-12 years old the first time. He told me he wanted to play "Titanic," a game where he would "save me" by pushing me down and laying on top of me. Even then, I knew something was off. For the next six years, whenever I would see him, my stomach would lurch because I knew he would do his best to get me alone. He usually did.

Initially, it was just laying on top of me, even when I begged him to stop. As I reached 9 years old, his hand began to slide down my shirt and wiggle around. I was confused and scared. I remember looking in the mirror as I was getting ready for dinner parties with my extended family and messing up my hair, so I wouldn't look attractive. I thought maybe if I looked ugly he would stay away. In fact, I used to beg my mom to let me wear casual clothes to events like that. That wouldn't stop it either. Later, I would realize that it didn't matter what I looked like, he would have probably done the same thing.

The last time was when I was 12. His family had just bought a new house and was having a housewarming party. My mother made me wear a really nice outfit. Looking in the mirror before we left, I wanted to puke. My breasts had gotten bigger and so had my hips. I wanted so badly to be invisible. Before we left the party that night, I went upstairs to look for my brother. I didn't find him, but my attacker found me. He said he wanted to play a game and pushed me over. He tried to tried to reach into my top. I wasn't having it this time.

I crawled out from under him and turned around. I told him I knew what he was doing and that he better stop. He played stupid and pretended like he was just having fun. I ran away that day, and never looked back. That night, I cried myself to sleep, as I finally realized what had been happening to me all those years. That kid took advantage of another kid, a much younger one. He will never know the depth of the anxiety he has caused me, and how delayed I became when it came to boys and growing up. To this day, I still have a hard time making physical contact with people. I still am not comfortable being too close to guys. I was violated, I was taken advantage of, and I was manipulated. It becomes hard to trust people, and harder to trust yourself.

My attacker attended UNC and is now in medical school. He's going to have a great life and bright future. I hope that whatever he was going through was a curious phase, but if I find out he ever did/does it to anyone else, you better believe I'll send his ass to jail. I feel guilty for not reporting him, but it would honestly tear my family apart. I also know there's no evidence, no nothing. But, I'll have my eyes wide open. He better keep his hands to himself.