The first that I remember being hurt was when I was 4. I stayed home from kindergarten and my daddy came into my room and started rubbing my upper thigh, which turned into him rubbing inside of my panties. He put his fingers inside of me, and I remember screaming. When he finished, he told me that this is what daddy’s do when they love their daughters, but it’s our secret. Not long after that event, he showed me his penis and he made me rub it. He then put it inside of me. That is what started 14 years of being raped and abused about 3-5 times a week. When I was 9 he made me “please” an uncle and two of his friends. I knew that I did not like it, and I knew that it was wrong. But it was normal, my normal. He did not stop until I married at the age of 18. He later came back when I was 22. He hasn’t hurt me for 4 years now, but I live in constant fear. I am in counseling but it still feels hopeless.