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date my own boyfriend done it to me many times , I would sleep over at his gaf and he would always make me tea from “his culture “ but hmm lookin back I would knock out right after and I had never done anything sexual before , when I was waking up in pain , bleeding , i thought there was something wrong with me and I would always be confused . Lookin back I knew what he was doing in the back of my head but I was In denial I felt bad for assuming that was happing “he doesn’t give off rapey vibes “ thats what I would think little did I know . dateof being with him he did get very mentally and phsysically abusive but things were bad at home and I thought his house was better bc “I could actually sleep “ BUT I DIDNT KNOW I WAS ONY SLEEPING BC I WAS GETTING DRUGGED . The story use to make me soooo mad but looking back i cant judge the past with what I know now . Anyways so one day in date I have some “tea” and I pass out on his couch and I wake up to him molesting me and starting to do stuff to me while I was passed out and I start freaking out and I low-key cant rember anything after that I just rember the next day i woke up in his bed he was rushing me to get ready and I was so confused and was like ??? Huh Ajd i didnt know how to process what had happened lastnight and I can’t txt my mam bc she didn’t even know where I was she didn’t know I was seeing this fella she thought I was at a friends and I thought she’d be more mad at me lyin than me gettibg raped and finally realising whag was happening , he lived in the middle of nowhere his hoise was gated no one lived there i got in the car hoping HED bring me home like he usally does but nope i was in that car he drove me for over 4 hours to theplace no stops , he took my phone , and yea I was stuck in the placewoth his , he drove to sn underground parking lot,no people , we went in an elevator , got out on theplace and I was locked in a place(no idea how he could even stay here and how he booked it ) anyways that was the worst week of my life i was gettin raped over and over again , drugged ,physically abused , for a week staright I felt like I was going insaneeee but it was weird like I was on survival mode and I tried to escape and I remeber vividly I was drugged , undone the locks , but I was fighting the drug and I got to an elevator and I was pressing the button over and over and he obviously caught up i rember backing up into a corner of the elevator and bro dead ahhh grabbed my ancle and I rember feelin ny head hit smthin bc I got pulled wi sn force abd i woke up like 24 hourssssss later the next day in bed , sooooo yea then I can’t even REMEBER how but I convince him 3 days later that I love him and I don’t mind him VIOLATING MY BODY and I would “stay wi him forever I loved him “ but yall I just wanted to get home I missed my dog , for once things at home seemed way better , I was greatful all it was I had to deal with at home were my parents arguing at night and I couldn’t sleep , yk a lot better than this shit so yea ended up getting home , still to this day my parents and family have no idea this happened , I blocked my horrible ex on everything hes gone from my life thank god , this is the first time im telling the whole story not even my councillor knows all this , but yea thats the summary , after I came back I didn’t know what to do , my friend forced me to go satu , they helped , mentally struggled for a longgggg time YHIS wss a rough journey but finally i can say it wasnt my fault screw him and no one deserves something like this to happen to them .

Im 20 years old now but when I was 12, I was sexually Assaulted while visiting my Hometown. When I was 12, I had an odd sense of how I viewed love and attraction. For example, while visiting my hometown I often went out with a friend who knew many of the kids who also grew up there. She introduced me to a group of boys who were either family or family friends. I tried to be nice but they just kept putting their hands on me every chance they got. Even thought I knew it was wrong and felt kinda uncomfortable, I tried to like it and think maybe they think im beautiful or that im desirable. But that night one of the boys convinced me to get food with him. It was common for food stands to be in the alleys because the roads were very crowded with people. I went but there were no food stands, just a dimly lit alleyway. Before I knew it, I was pinned and he assaulted me. I felt like I left my body just trying to blank out everything. When it was done he left first and I was trying to process what happened. Prior to this, I didn’t know what sex was or even seen boys exposed. I walked out alone and saw my mom sitting with the other women there. I didn’t tell her. I never told her. I was too scared and ashamed. At one point I tried to turn it around and think maybe this was okay and Im finally a “grown up now” but no matter what, I kept coming back to how I just froze, I didn’t like it and it wasn’t okay. I tried to tell my mom when I turned 18 but i didn’t tell her the full truth. I just told her about the groping to see what she would say or think. She got upset and said “Don’t let boys do that or they’ll think you’re easy.” That really shattered me so I didn’t end up telling her the rest. I’ve pretty much kept it to myself for about 8 years now. And recently, I learned that he died in a motorcycle accident while on his way to work. He got hit by a truck. When my family heard, they were sad for him and his family. I wasn’t angry at them, they didn’t know. And i felt pretty conflicted because I wouldn’t wish this on anyone but I still couldn’t get over what happened. I just want to move on and maybe gather the courage to share this with my family someday. If not, im glad I shared it here. This is the first time I heard about this movement and my first time sharing it. Im glad I finally let it out.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.