I was 10 when it happened.
I only know this because I still remember the house we lived in.
I wanted to go to my aunt's house so when my mom's friend, who was visiting, offered to give me a ride, I didn't think twice.
On the way to my aunt's, he told me he needed to pick something up from his house before he dropped me off.
I was 10 so I didn't question this.
He told me to come with him while he went inside.
Again, I was 10, so I didn't question this.
I don't remember much of what happened but I'll never forget what he said to me. Those words have lived within my for the past 22 years and I doubt they'll ever go away...I'll never forget them.
I remember that after the assault, instead of taking me to my aunt's house, he drove me to a parking lot a block from my house. When I got out of the car, he told me that if I didn't tell anyone, he would give me things.
I walked home and immediately told my mom.
I don't know what happened afterward. I'm sure I blocked it out in an effort to protect myself. I do know that he wasn't charged and continued to live in my town. I remember seeing him years later and when he saw my face, it was as if he'd seen a ghost. I remember feeling a sense of power over his reaction.
Now, at 32 (and with the #metoo allowing for these stories to be heard), I am remembering things that I, no doubt, suppressed. That man's (he had to be in his 40s when he assaulted me) backyard literally shared a fence with an elementary school. I was 10! That man was a pedophile.
For years I blamed myself for what happened. If I hadn't been so developed at 10, this wouldn't have happened. If I had just walked instead of going inside with him, this wouldn't have happened.
But there is nothing that I could have possibly done at 10 to excuse what happened to me. I was assaulted. And like so many other people in this world, we're not victims, we're survivors.
