I’m sure my story starts when I was a baby. A cousin, who is ten years older than I and still molesting and raping little girls, started molesting me and several others in the family. At six years old, my mother would send me to the store a ways away, and he would pick me up, take me to the country and molest me. I had to touch him, put my mouth on him, and he would fondle me. Then, around eight, he started coming to our home at around midnight and fondle me. At nine years old, when he was nineteen and in the Army, he raped me in my bed. His continual mantra was, “If you tell, I will kill you, your Dad will kill me, and your Dad will live out the rest of his life in prison.” I believed him. After nine, he went after my little sisters and younger cousins. I carry the scars with me still. I’ve had several years of therapy, have confronted him in 1994 and put the monkey back on his shoulders, but he is still at it with others. He will bribe you with money, toys, candy, and if that doesn’t work, he will threaten to tell on you for “participating” in his sick and twisted perversions. When I told my parents in my twenties, my mom accused me of “flirting” with her fair haired nephew, her sister’s boy. I was never fully believed and it was shoved under the carpet, with all the other secrets. I’m 67 now, and I’m a WARRIOR for the cause of getting this kind of abuse out into the open, where it has always belonged. And I say…IT’S ABOUT TIME.