I was 12 years old at the time. Taking a walk around town because it was a quiet, boring day. I didn’t notice my uncle’s friend, age 19 at the time walking behind me. I ignored it at the time. I happened to look over my shoulder and he was gone. I thought nothing of it. As I was about to cross the street, someone grabbed me, covered my mouth and pulled me behind a building. He molested me. All I could think about was why me. He walked away and left me to cry. My legs weak and my mind racing. I told nobody but a few of my friends and my parents and the police two years later.
Now age 17, I thought it would be fun to sneak out with my cousins and a few friends. When I went outside I didn’t see my two cousins who were suppose to be there. Instead it was just the male friend. We went to his house to hang out. His parents and roommate was home. We went in his room to chill. I sat on the bed and he grabbed something. I asked what he was doing. He turns around with a condom in him hand. I shook my head and said no. He pushed me down against the bed and took my shorts off. I said no, stop. I tried to push him off of me but I couldn’t, he was too strong. I continued to tell him to stop, that I didn’t want this. It took four times for him to actually decide to listen. I got up, put on my shorts and left before he could try to stop me. He said “wait, I thought it was what you wanted.” I ran away with tears streaming down my face.
— Brooklyn, age 17