I was 16 living in a foster home, I had been there maybe 5 months. The man {~Foster Dad~} the foster dad he had never really talked to me very much and he didn't spend alot of time with me. One day I was cleaning up my room and {~Foster Mom~}the foster mom was across the street at a neighbors house. He came to the doorway and stood there asking me if he could give me a hug and I thought nothing of it and said ok and he came into my room and he did. When he pulled away his hand rubbed against my breast and I thought to myself maybe that was an accident and then he asked me could he hug me again. I felt uncomfortable but don't really remember why I let him hug me again but I did and this time he rubbed my breast again and I slapped him across the face and ran out the door. I think he told me not to tell anyone. When I got next door I said what happened and she was upset at me and said you shouldn't say things like that in front of people. I was shocked and just turned around. I don't remember what happened after that. I remember going to counseling and I finally spoke to the counselor about the sexual abuse that had occurred even before this incident and I suppose I was confused. I didn't really think it was bad because the word rape was bad and he only touched me so I wasn't sure that was bad and after talking to the counselor I remember her telling my foster mom and the social worker that I was afraid of men. I suppose because I told her so many stories maybe it didn't seem like I was telling the truth and somehow now {~Foster Dad~} wasn't guilty and I thought I was wrong. I remember thinking I am not afraid of men and only recently understand I can't stand them really. It wasn't long after this the foster mom got cancer well she already had it and told me I couldn't stay there anymore, so now the social worker was looking for a new place for me to live. I had a boyfriend at the time, who I later married when I was 17. The social workers thought he was a good influence on me, and I believed them. He was a constant for me where no one else was, but he was emotionally abusive, he became physically abusive after my first pregnancy. Now off to my second foster home after meeting some others that didn't seem to want me either it was almost the end of the school year and summer was approaching. Before I left I had started to go to the store to hang out with what I called a foster sister back then, she was an adult and no longer living with my foster parents but I liked her and so we hung out sometimes. I thought I could trust her. She started talking to me about what happened and said he did it to her too and he had done it before and I thought to myself did they all know this and was hiding it. I can remember having my then best friend over and she wanted to ride to the store with my foster dad to get pizza and my foster mom was very against it like really defensive and I thought it was weird and after that she wouldn't let her come over anymore either which I then thought was even weirder, but now it seems to make sense. I don't know for a fact but I feel like she knew all along and just hide it. They couldn't have kids of their own and she did adopt a boy who was also and adult by the time I met them, but only fostered the girls for a time being and then were off to other homes. The next foster home wasn't much better, I suppose I can save that story for another time. I didn't understand what sexual abuse or rape even was and to me if someone just touched me that it was ok that wasn't rape so it wasn't bad. When I think about the word rape I don't feel much of anything, but if I say someone had sex with me when I didn't want them too I start to cry or feel it more. It's strange I say rape is a bad word but really I feel nothing when I say this. Maybe from all the movies my mom would put on tv as a child that made it seem ok to rape someone. Then my foster mom certainly didn't help much and neither did the foster sister. The foster mom tried to be in my life for a while and we even rented from them when I first got married. I suppose because the social workers, and counselors, and whoever else I was around back then didn't seem to have a problem with what he did that I guess I thought it was ok, but now all this time later I am just understanding that none of it was ever ok.