Still Confused

am eight years younger than my brother. When we were growing up he would often invite me to fight and play with him, in bed, on weekend mornings.
When I was sixteen I had to leave the family home with mother and we moved into my brothers short term. I recall fighting and laughing one dY, as typical until he floored me. I screamed, laughing until he said ‘let’s see how many hairs you have down there’.
I froze and then fought hysterically. He eventually got off. He didn’t get my pants down. He went halfway upstairs and said ‘come on let’s fight here’ I replied ‘no’.
To this day I hate to think what might have happened.
We have never talked about it.