I was ten years old when I was raped by one of the church helpers for my weekly class. He always scared me. He constantly would “playfully” chase me around during recess and tickle me, finding me when I would try to hide. I never told anyone; other adults would see and didn’t speak, so I did not think that it was an issue.
One night, he asked me to help clean up after recess. I didn’t know that I could have said no. When I was putting away the toys into the storage room, he locked and closed the door. He raped me.
My family still doesn’t know. I’m too afraid that now, seven years later, they would think I was lying. But I escaped from him. My family decided that they didn’t like the church anyways, so I never saw him again. But the memories still haunt me daily.
I hate myself for not telling anyone. He is still out there, could still be doing it to other girls. It makes me feel sick inside.
— Survivor, age 17