Perhaps it's time to begin with the first time it happened...the first time my life started downhill. Unlike the rest of my childhood, the details are slightly fuzzy.
Even though I cannot remember it vividly, it doesn't stop the shadows of nameless fears. I was five...old enough to know when something is wrong.
It was an average day, well, to my standards, atleast. I'm sure you've been in the same type...sunny with spaced out clumps of white fluff that glide across the sky in different shapes; slight breezes rustling the edges of your hair with a delicate brush...
It was on this day that I had been at home with only my mother. She was inside making dinner; I was outside on the trampoline. I just bounced away, singing one of those goofy children's songs. Even when someone came up to me.
This is where it gets fuzzy. I don't remember what happened exactly, just that I was....well, I quess I thought I was okay.
The next thing I remember is someone messing with my untameable head of golden hair. Then it fades into something out of a nightmare. Just darkness with many shadows...I was screaming, but I don't know for what...I was crying, but I don't remember why.
Then there were sirens. Blinding, blazing lights of color and the screaming wails of the police cars.
They were outside of our house. Someone had been arrested. I just remember my mother hugging me as though I might vanish if she let go. I was tremnling...but I don't think I was afraid, just shocked.
My father was stroking my hair, talking to the chief policeman. He said many things that I had thought were irrelevant. Details about the man...
It was a few years ago that I actually understood what the police had meant when he first tried to explain it to me.
I had been molested.