So when I was in second grade, my dad moved us to my moms home town in Ohio. We first started living with my grandparents in their 5 bedroom house. Along with my moms half sister, and "brother." He was adopted by my step grandma because her sister couldnt care for him, so we grew up knowing him as uncle. He was 15 years old at the time. At first it started as he would want me to come down stairs to his room to watch movies, so me in second grade that did not set off any alarms. Soon it became during our "nap time," he would come lay down and watch what we was watching and play footsie and stuff and tell me he was playing around, later learning it was for his own arousal. It started as I was coming out of second grade, and ended when we moved back to florida the beginning of my fifth grade year. By the end of it, I was being told i had to do chores and he would take me downstairs and into the laundry room and close the doors. Depending on the day he would either shove me over the laundry sinks, or pull us both down to the ground and make me give him oral for what felt like hours... I never told a soul until I met my best friend in middle school. Ive seen him once since then and I got home from band camp, sat at the end of my drive way until two in the morning, went home showered anxiously, and sat on the couch because my sister and her friend took my bed, and watched him sleep and hoped he didnt wake up at all until i had to leave at six that morning. I was so anxious I even walked down the drive an hour early and took a nap against a tree waiting on my ride. He died in a motorcycle accident when I was 18. Two years later I got in a horrible relationship of abuse, sexual, mental, and physical. When i got away from that at the age of 23 and two kids later. I finally told my mom, because i was so scared of my kids going through it. Sad thing is, everyone now knows what happened to me, but everyone is acting like it never happened and I shouldnt talk about it or act like i do... This finally gave me my out to where someone might actually hear me out, and listen to what actually happen to me, instead of blowing it off and shrugging their shoulders. His fault still affects me till this day. I see it everyday, i have panic attacks from it. I cant be touched certain ways, or felt trapped without freaking out. So I dont understand why im being told its all in my head, if they dont know whats actually in my head, or the memories he burned in there.