January 15, 2015 I was raped by my uncle, my moms brother. I’ve told my family, they just say “Oh he’s an over grown child”. Or “he didn’t know what he was doing”. Or “you were just high on drugs, you wanted it”. But none of them truly understand how I felt that night. None of them know what its like to be forced onto a bed and have your pants ripped off by your uncle. They didn’t get to see me bawling, begging my uncle to stop. They didn’t get to hear my uncle whisper “awww. Its okay sissy don’t cry”, while he tucked my hair behind my ear. You didn’t have to feel empty as your uncle raped you. And touched you. While you laid there sobbing repeating “I hate you” over and over again. I felt like I wasn’t even in my own body. I was completely empty inside. I tried to think of other things. Prayed the police would pull up any minute and save me or my boyfriend would come save me. Had to hear my uncle moan, and kiss my chest while I was sobbing. Had to hear him beg me to moan and stop crying that it was okay, he loved me. Mom, you don’t cry and beg someone to stop if its consensual. Grandma, he did rape me, you’re granddaughter. I remember him having to spit on himself because he couldn’t get it in all the way. His niece. He couldn’t get his niece to want him. I laid there as he was raping me, staring at the ceiling thinking about how I was gonna tell my family and they would help me feel better about this. Little did I know they wouldn’t even believe me. I lay there, praying to god someone would save me. My own family member asking me if I was on birth control, because “It’d be bad if he got me pregnant”. My own uncle kissing all over my body. Biting me, hurting me. Kissing my tears like it was nothing to him. I have never felt so empty. I’d rather have died right then. Rather him ha ve killed me then to have to relive that night in my head every single fucking day. My family still talks to him. And about him right in front of me. They don’t understand what its like to hear the words “uncle” or “*his name” or “rape” or even “sis”. They don’t know when I hear those little words my whole world comes crashing down and then comes the flashbacks and anxiety. They don’t know what its like to have to feel like that. To never want to leave your house again. To feel disgusting. Worthless. Alone. Unloved. I was raped. He told me not to move. I had to lay there and listen to that big nasty man snore right beside me. I stared at the wall. And thought about what my best friend was doing, and how my mom was, and my ex. Just anything to keep my mind off the sound of my rapist sleeping beside me. The next morning he woke up. Smiled at me. Made me put on his coat. Gave me a line of meth to snort and we left the empty house he broke in. The whole day after that, I couldn’t even speak. I just laid in bed. Empty. I couldn’t even kiss my boyfriend for weeks. Sex wasn’t something that even sounded good to me anymore. I didn’t want to be touched by a man. Their monsters. The first time I tried to have sex after that, I made my boyfriend stop because I was having flashbacks and I couldn’t stop crying. So tell me again how I wanted it, mom. Tell me how you talked to him the other day. Tell me how you send your rapist father money in prison, cousin. Tell me how he “doesn’t know what he’s doing” grandma. It doesn’t even phase me right? He didn’t rape me, I wanted it. It was consensual, I was just high. I wanted to have sex with my uncle. My favorite uncle. I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough to get him off me. Now I feel worthless. Like it’s my fault. My family makes me feel like its my fault he did that to me. I could have prevented it. Thanks to my uncle, I now have HPV. Do you think anyones gonna want a girl who has HPV? An STD given to her by her own blood. A girl who cries every night because her own family doesn’t believe she was raped? Do you think I will ever be normal mom? Knowing my own mother and father know I was raped and never did a thing about it. I told you hoping you would support me and help me. I didn’t know you would make me feel a million times worse about it. You’re supposed to be there for me. All I have is my boyfriend there for me. He’s the one I cry to about this when I get too drunk, or when I have a bad day. He’s the only person who really cares. My own brother said I wanted it. That his friend walked in and “heard me moaning”. Why didn’t your friend help me if he walked in? I wasn’t moaning brother. I was sobbing, while I had my tears pushed away by our moms brother. While he told me to stop crying, I was making him start to feel bad. T old me not to tell anyone or everyone would think we were both nasty. I should have listened to him. I’d rather you all not even know about it then to know you do and you never did a damn thing about it. How do you even think that makes me feel. Don’t you know that took a piece of me I will never get back? I will never be happy again. I will never feel normal again. I’m fucking empty inside. I don’t feel like a normal person. I never will. He ruined me.