The day my rapist died. I had been thinking about it a lot recently. How I never held you accountable for what you did to me or the others, who knows how many others. I should have reported it. How stupid I was for listening to my “friends”, your other victims, when they said “oh that’s just how he is”. I hate how I blamed myself how I thought it was my fault because I drank too much and my shorts were too loose. I thought maybe it’s not too late to do something. Maybe I’m having these thoughts for a reason. Maybe I need to speak out to save others. Today you’re dead. I don’t know what that means to me yet or how I feel. The hardest part about today is watching people I call friends and kids that you might have hurt mourn you as if you were a good fucking person. I hate that you died without everyone knowing who you really were. Rest in Hell! 🖕

To anyone out there that can relate to this. Please report your abuser. You deserve justice.