I’ll never forget the day you changed my life. December 5th 2017, I was only 15 years old. I still have scars on my arm from where your fingernails dug into me when you grabbed me and drug me across the floor. You knew exactly what you were doing and didn’t stop when I was screaming at you to let me go. Did you think what you were doing was okay? Did you think just because you were 44 you had authority over my own body? What was going through your head when you decided to pick me up and throw me down a flight of stairs? You left me laying on the basement floor with my head pounding from a concussion that you gave me. Do you remember that day with as much detail as I do? Do you even care? When I locked myself in the bathroom to get away do you remember banging on the door and screaming “you deserved it”? Do you truly think I deserved it?

You hurt me in more ways than one that day. I didn’t sleep for days because whenever I closed my eyes it felt like I was with you again.

It’s two years later and I’ve come out and told my story about what you did to me to a psychologist and I was diagnosed with PTSD. I didn’t tell her your name or how I know you. I’m still terrified of you and I’m terrified of what you might do if I tell anyone who you are. I trusted you and I loved you... I still love you and I hate myself for it.