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I have no memory of a single event that began the raping of all things good from my life. I was 3-years-old and only know those sad initial details of what he did to me then because at 16 I had an opportunity to confront him. According to my uncle, when I was 3, he said he went to gather me from his bed after a nap (he was my legal guardian at the time) and said I was sitting up in bed with my hand in my diaper touching myself.
His excuse for putting his hands in my diaper too? I wanted it; needed it even.
According to him, I needed it for more than 9-years; 9 of the most formative years of my life.
The Nightmare by, Cheri Roberts
Morning comes peeking beneath my eyes with bitterness,
sharp and cold.
Tight chested reminders echo,
“Beware, the night…
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