He looked beyond my physical appearance and made me feel worthy to be loved. We met a year ago, and he was the first man to accept me for who I was. If I hadn’t met my current boyfriend, I may well have continued my reckless lifestyle to this day. I repeatedly fell for the wrong guys – those who would string me along or use me for their pleasure before dumping me. I wanted their acceptance so badly that I let people walk all over me. I had a great need to be wanted, so I fell over myself trying to please my family, friends and the opposite sex. Little did I realise that I was carrying a lot of anger inside as well. I dated serially and had countless one-night stands, none of which filled the void inside me. I didn’t think I could ever be good enough for any man. I felt insecure and hated the way I looked.
Throughout my early adulthood, I suffered from low self-esteem. Mark’s sexual abuse marred my trust in men. I kept the shameful secret to myself for a very long time – I just felt so dirty and worthless. We soon drifted apart, although he remained close to my sisters. I started keeping Mark at arm’s length, as I no longer trusted him. By then, I was old enough to understand that what my cousin did to me when I was a child was terrible and inappropriate. I don’t know what triggered them, but the flashbacks traumatised me. In my ignorance, I forgot the smears of my childhood and even remained close to Mark until I was a teenager.īut when I turned 18, the memories somehow came flooding back. After that day, Mark acted like nothing had happened. Growing up, I never realised how close I had come to being raped. Looking back, I don’t blame her for keeping quiet – it was her way of keeping the family together. Grandma never spoke to me about what happened or sat me down to talk about the birds and the bees. I truly believe my cousin would have raped me if she hadn’t been alert to what he was doing. I suspect my grandmother knew all along that Mark was molesting me, but didn’t intervene until that afternoon. He still cradled me on his lap when I asked him to and continued to show me brotherly affection, but he no longer touched me in all the wrong places. Instead, she pulled Mark aside to talk.Īfter that, Mark stopped molesting me. Grandma didn’t come in as I expected her to.
I remember Mark telling me to quickly get dressed, as he did, before opening the door. She was yelling for us to unlock the door and come out of the room. I never questioned his authority because I saw him as an older brother who could do no wrong.īut before things could go any further, Grandma knocked loudly on the bedroom door. I obeyed, never wondering why we had to be naked to take a nap. Under the blanket, he asked me to remove all my clothes as well. Then, he stripped and climbed into bed with me. One afternoon, as I was getting ready for a nap, he followed me into the bedroom and locked the door. My guess is that it went on for about a year – before he decided to take it further. I can’t remember how long he molested me for. Instead, I felt special because Mark was giving me his full attention.
It didn’t seem odd to me that he didn’t do the same with his other female cousins. Again, I let him because I saw them as affectionate gestures. A part of me was curious too, so I let him continue.įrom then on, Mark would find reasons to hold my hand or touch some part of my body. Being only seven years old at the time, I didn’t pull away as I thought it was normal for older and younger cousins of the opposite sex to behave that way. Once we were alone, Mark turned me to face him and kissed me full on the mouth. I thought nothing of it – we were a noisy bunch, so I figured he needed a reprieve. One day, as I sat on his lap, Mark asked everyone else to leave the room, saying that he needed some peace and quiet.