It started when I was two and a half. The man who did it to me is 45 now and lives in Vietnam. He was my father’s friend and still is to this day. My mum and dad needed to work at the time so they sent me and my little sister to his house to look after us. He used to take me into a room and made me watch porn and abuse me orally. I used to cry while he wasn’t looking. I used to cry myself to sleep at night but that was only the first man to do things to me. The next time I was abused I was 10 and it was by a girl this time. I was friends with her little sister at the time. They were both pretty messed up kids. I went over to their house and that’s where she started acting up. I hated it but I couldn’t do anything to stop it. She was five years older then me and she scared me. After mum moved us away from the girls I never wanted to speak to them again. I was again abused by someone who I thought was my friend. I had fallen for a boy four years older then me when I was thirteen. Another time an older boy who was a lot stronger then me pinned me to the ground and I couldn’t push him away. I told him to stop and I said no but he kept going. After tears welled up in my eyes and I yelled stop for the last time finally he did. The memory burned into my mind. The next time he drove me home from school but he stopped a block away from my house then he said “you owe me” then he reached across and began kissing me then he slid his hand between my legs. Inside I was screaming for him to stop. I wanted to tear my own skin off. I didn’t feel like it was mine anymore. At our next meeting he said that he would pay me back. All I wanted was a brownie from the info centre but he lay me down in the sand by the river, pulled off my shirt, pulled my pants down and began fingering me until I let out a scream. He put his hand over my mouth then he began thrusting me with his own pants down. If my underwear wasn’t on I wouldn’t be a virgin anymore. I was screaming in my head yelling stop through his hand. I wanted the nightmare to end. I stared up at the sky begging for answers as to why. He snapped me out of my trance by saying to me that I wasn’t to tell anyone about this and forget it ever happened. I had given up. I felt like I was just the world’s sex toy. My body didn’t feel special anymore and I felt ugly. The next time we met I told him I tried to kill myself and he told me to delete all of our conversations. He told me he was growing up and that he had changed his ways. He wanted to stop what was going on. He knew it was wrong the whole time but he did it again anyway. I haven’t talked to him since then and I refuse to.
— Jay, age 15