When I was just at the young age of 4, I was sexually abused by my brother. He was 13, I was 4. I do not remember how these things started, but what happened between the beginning and the end is what will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was never raped, but I was orally raped, if you want to use that term. I remember exactly what the setup of his bedroom was… I remember where the bed was, the dresser, the futon bed, the nightstand… I also remember the glass case with a football in it. He told me, “Just do it.” So of course, I was scared and I decided that I better do it, in fear of him being angry with me for not doing it… I remember the position that I laid in the whole time and I can remember the images and the physical feeling of these things while they were happening. I also can still see him finishing himself off. I was crying like crazy, and if I can remember correctly… My dad was there, but I do not know if I ever spoke of what happened. I was never comforted or held when I was upset. My depression, anxiety, and mild PTSD that I struggle from weigh on me like no other. I get anxious whenever I get around him, although I love my brother. It is very hard for me to forgive, when I can never forget. I was helpless. I am thankful that these things only happened one time, but it is not a story that is to be minimized. It effected/ still effects me until this very second.