In my lifetime, I’ve dealt with nasty things. From getting bad grades, to getting therapy. One of my worst secrets are my assaults. The first one was in preschool. I have no memory of what my teacher did to me, but I remember somethings. I remember the little daycare I went to, and I remember her name. Mrs. D. She used to physically and mentally assault me. I was 4 or 5 at the time, and my teacher taught me the “magic way to sleep.” I was taught to touch myself then touch my eyes. I was doing it one night in the bath and my mom freaked. She called the cops and I blacked out everything. I NEVER got my justice. I pretended not to know what happened and I pretended to not know her. For those who don’t understand what the “magic way to sleep” is, it’s basically masturbating. I don’t remember what she looked like. Nor do I remember if she actually touched me or not, but when I was told years later, my mother said she did. She targeted me, and touched me. That’s only one of many assaults I’ve been through. My other ones were in eighth grade. My crush at the time used me. He knew I would do anything because I already felt like shit. So at the end of 7th grade year, he basically talked me into touching him through his pants. That’s when in eight grade, he went after me. He would grab my breasts and squeeze, telling me he liked me. He would play nervous just so he could run his hand up my thigh. He would ask me out and then proceed to abuse me by calling me names and pretending we weren’t going out. The second time he asked me out, he was sweeter. But he still used me. He would you with me, and almost got into my pants. He would force me to do things, and shoved his genitals into my face with his pants on. And I would have to tell him I liked it. I may not remember my first assault, my second came harder than a train at me. Now being a sophomore in high school, I still hate people touching me today. I even hate when family members hug or kiss me. I have panic attacks and serious depression issues. I feel like nothing matters anymore. I would push my problems down and ignore it, but that’s when the bullies started. Calling me Shrek, Shamu, Whore, Slut, Lier, and other horrible names. I used to be really easy and desperate. I felt degraded and ugly. Whenever I had a boyfriend, I prayed that this one would at least stay and not be an abusive asshole. This year my bullying has started back up. And I’m dealing with it the best I can. I now also have a Mr. Right in my life, who loves and helps me everyday. He knows some of my long story and is finding out new things everyday. I know my story wasn’t very good, but I figured it might help. I just wanted to let other victims out there, it’s ok to tell. Get your justice before it’s too late. Stop your attacker before they get someone else. You may feel like not waking up everyday like I do, but it’s worth it. I’m glad I have many supporters in my life.
— Shane, age 15