I was only seven and he was fifteen.

His dad knew my step-father for years and our mothers worked together for a long time.
My step-father had a band and his dad played the bass gutiar in it.
Pratice was every Saturday and he came with his dad.

I was only seven and he was fifteen.

He and I were really close and has been for a few years now, he was like my brother.
But as months went on, I realized that I had a crush on him.
I kept a diary, like evey little girl at that age, and wrote all about him.

I was only seven and he was fifteen.

One night, during the band's pratice, he snuck into my room and started snooping around.
He went through my drawers and found my diary.
He must have read, but I didn't know until later.

I was only seven and he as fifteen.

A few weeks later, when we were playing games like we usually did, I went over to the couch because I was feeling sick.
He laid next to me, chest aganist mine, and put his arm by my side.
He lifted up my shirt only a little, and rubbed his thumb aganist my belly.

I was only seven and he was fifteen.

I didn't know what to think of it, because I was never touched by another person unless I was getting hit or burned.
He went farther and farther up my shirt and put his hands on my chest.
I was getting scared and wanted to scream, but no one would've heard me, and I didn't know what he would've done if I did.
I just laid there and held my breath.

I was only seven and he was fifteen.

After a while, he took his hands off me and we laid there.
I was still taking as few breaths as possible.
I could fell his hands move down, but they weren't on me anymore.
I was getting ready to punch him and run away.

For I was only seven and he was fifteen.

I heard a zipper and he slid his hand up to the wist and brought it down to him.
He made me do "things" with my hands.
I was silently crying but went along with it.

I was only seven and he was fifteen.

I never spoke to him after that and he never showed up at my house again.
I took an hour long shower with hot, hot water to try and wash it away. I scrubbed so hard I was bleeding and gave myself sabs and blisters.
He got what he wanted and I lost a part of me.


I was only seven and he was fifteen....



Now I'm fifteen and I haven't seen him in over eight years. I've never told this to anyone. Ever. It's been eating me alive ever since then... I always have that in the back of my mind, everyday, and I'm terrified to tell anyone that might judge me.
So I came to Witty.
Because I trust more strangers on here than I do the people I see everyday in my school.


Thank you if you actually read this.<3