To My Rapist


All my life, I have felt guilty about what happened to me. Maybe it was me? Maybe it was my fault? Even at the age of 8 years old, I should have been careful, because being young does not protect you from all the horrors of life. You said that it was a game, that it was between you and me. That we would play a game that only the both of us would know about, if I accepted. I was so young, and you were three years older. I remember that I just wanted to fit, you were my stepbrother and I wanted you to accept me, so my dad would be proud. I knew he was in love with your mother and I just wanted him to be happy. You knew that perfectly well. That is why you told me to keep quiet. Told me that if I said anything, you would put it all on me and that my father would be ashamed of me and hate me… I believed you. You will probably say that you do not remember, that you do not know what I am talking about but let me refresh your memory. It had been a little while since your mom and my dad had been dating. Your mother, your sister and you moved into an apartment with my dad in Montreal. Since I was living in the South Shore, I could not easily visit my dad. The first time I did, my little sister and I went to your apartment. Our parents were so happy because we all got along so well. We used to play different games all the time, watch movies, and go to the park and play. I remember that day when our parents decided to leave us alone and go to the grocery store. That day was when everything started. You wanted to play hide-and-seek, and, as the little girls we were, my sister, your sister and I accepted. My sister was the one counting and we all went to hide in different places. You decided to hide in the same place as me, the closet in the entrance. Do you remember now? Because I do, and always will. I remember when you started touching me in inappropriate places. I said no… I said stop… Even though I was very young and did not know what was happening… It felt so wrong. When I tried to get out of the closet, you caught me firmly by the arm and put your hand on my mouth, so I would not scream. You whispered in my ear that I had to stay quiet and not say a word about it or you would tell my dad that I started it. It felt so wrong and you were so brutal and mean. You totally changed, and I did not recognize the boy that I used to play dolls with. I was scared. When my dad came back home, I was crying. He asked what was wrong but then you appeared at the edge of the room’s door. I knew I could not say a word, so I just told him that I wanted to go home because I was missing my mom. Two weeks later, it happened again, but this time while I was sleeping. Then, two weeks after, when I was in the shower… It happened every time our parents weren’t home, or in the same room. I could not handle it anymore… I was sad all the time and my mom noticed it. When she asked me what was wrong, I did not tell her because I was so ashamed… It truly felt like it was my fault, and I felt empty and alone. I started making excuses so I wouldn’t have to go to your house. It worked for the first month, but eventually my dad really wanted to see me. I had to go. I knew you would be there and the night before going to your house, I cried. I cried and cried and prayed. I asked for God’s protection like my grandmother taught me. When I got in the apartment, I tried to stay with my dad all the time. I followed him everywhere so I wouldn’t have to be alone with you. It worked the first day, but when I got up on the second day our parents were gone. Of course, you did not lose time and came to my room and locked the door. That day I did not want to let you touch me and I was going to fight back. I pushed you, I screamed and told you to stop. While I was screaming at you telling you that I did not want you to touch me anymore my dad got home. Do you remember what happened next? I’m sure you do. You won that day. You got what you wanted….

I remember my tears were falling from my eyes, I was shaking and so desperate. My dad saw me and asked me what was going on so I told him. I told him everything. How you liked to touch me even when I told you no; how you liked to show up in my showers and wake me up touching me in inappropriate ways. You left the room and started crying. You told your mother it wasn’t true, that I was lying, that I was the one starting it. My dad turned around and do you remember what he did? He slapped me in the face. For lying, for making up stupid stories, for wanting attention so bad. I remember my head was hurting so bad after that… I screamed and cried the whole night. I never came back to the apartment. I did not talk to my father for months. He chose to believe you, to believe his girlfriend. It hurt and destroyed me because he was my dad, and you were my stepbrother. You destroyed my relationship with my father. You destroyed my childhood. You destroyed me. And now, 10 years later, I hope that what happened to me never happens to your sister. Or to your mother, or your girlfriend, or any women in your life. Because it destroys a person, it changes her, and I could never wish this on any other women. You are a horrible person, but I forgive you. Not for you, but for me. I am confident now – stronger – and I know that men are not to be trusted. Now I can let go knowing that, though you are somewhere out there, I am over it.