I am 5 years old. It’s 7am and the birds are singing loudly outside. I dance in my room to a Taylor Swift song, whispering the lyrics to myself and hoping not to wake my brothers. As the song ends, I look to the street and see the grown ups start their early morning commutes. I wish I was a grown up. I wish I could drive and be free like them. Being a kid isn’t nearly as fun. The thought quickly escapes my mind as the scent of sausage and buttered toast wafts up from the kitchen. I run downstairs and see my Mom setting the table. She tells me my best friend is coming over from down the street to eat breakfast with me and then we’re going to play tag and have a tea party. I am happy.

I have not yet felt the touch.

I am 11 years old. Being a child seems a distant memory as all of the homework and stress invades my once happy mind. I earn my first boyfriend, Justin. He’s 13. Everyone thinks I’m cool for dating someone 2 grades ahead of me, so it doesn’t matter that I don’t like him that much. He has jet black hair and big brown eyes that seem to have a young child’s glee trapped within them. We play tag outside with our friends on a cool summer night, the grass weaving its way between our toes. He is “it.” I run and I run but he corners me. We laugh for a minute, trying to catch our breath. I look up. We are alone, surrounded by trees on all sides. There’s nowhere to run. He moves towards me and touches me. He doesn’t run away even though now I am “it.” I glance around uncomfortably and move away and he walks closer. “I’m it, why aren’t you running?” I ask. “We’re alone.” He says as he grabs me and presses his lips against mine. My heart beats fast and my body turns tense. I try to push him away but he doesn’t move. When he finally steps away he laughs at me and runs away while I stand there, shocked. I fall to my knees and the damp ground soaks my jeans. I cry, my first kiss stolen by someone I barely know.

I have felt the touch once.

I am 12 years old. I have moved away from my large, dark brown house. I live in Wisconsin now. I start school and find new friends, trying to feel better about leaving my whole life behind. I sit next to a girl in English class and she invites me to a football game that she’s going to with her friends that night. I practically jump at the idea to get out of the house that I feel like I’ve been held captive in for the past month. Later that night, I meet her at the stadium and she introduces me to her friends, Jordan and Simon. I notice Jordan. He’s tall and pale with freckles scattered across his cheeks like stars in the night sky. His brown eyes are different from Justin’s, they are sweet like honey. He smiles at me. I smile back. We sit down on the cold, metal bleachers, shivering from the October air. I want popcorn, so I start to walk off. Jordan follows. But, I don’t mind because he seems nice enough. On our way to concessions, he pulls me aside, into the shadows. “What are you doing? Concessions aren’t this way. I thought I passed them when I walked in.” Fear trickles into my voice as I see the wanting look in his once honey-sweet eyes. He moves his hand in a shushing motion and grabs me. This feels different from last time, Jordan is much more forceful, but I recognize the panicked feeling. He touches me and I beg for him to stop but he just slaps me across the face. My cheek stings and I whimper, but I stop talking. He suddenly stops and grabs my face gently, wiping the tears from my eyes. He takes my hand and we walk to our original destination, but I’m no longer hungry for popcorn. He gets himself a soda and we walk back towards my friends. He tells me to keep my head up and I do. On the walk back, I keep my eyes locked on the bleachers, locked on safety.. When we get back to the stands, everyone asks why I didn’t get popcorn, I just tell them I lost my appetite. I wasn’t lying to them. The next day, Jordan tells everyone I’m his girlfriend. I don’t say anything because I don’t want to cause trouble at my new school. 

I have felt the touch twice.

I am 14 years old. I went to homeschooling shortly after the last incident. My parents think it was because of bullying, but it was actually because everyone found out what Jordan did to me and they made a different high school this year and start fresh. I want to be a better version of myself. I struggle for the first couple of months, sticking by my few choir friends and clinging to them like my life depends on it. But, then, I get into the school musical. It’s The Little Mermaid and I am cast as a starfish. I am ecstatic. From what everyone says, musical is a family and it’s finally my chance to make some new friends. It is here where I meet him. He is funny and we like the same TV shows. He is a junior and I am just a mere freshman, so when he tells me he cares about me I feel special. Everyone warns me that he isn’t as nice as he seems, but I don’t listen. He says they all bully him and they’re bad people. I believe him. He starts driving me to and from musical, which is good because my parents aren’t worried about driving me anymore. They really like him. One Thursday afternoon, he decides to go back to his house because he forgot his script at home, and I go with him so I’m not stuck at school alone for half an hour. When we reach his house, the scent of dirty socks and half-burned cigarettes fills my nose. He always smells like that but this scent is much more powerful. I hold back the urge to plug my nose. When we walk inside, I notice that no one is home. I should have assumed that would happen since it’s only 2:13pm and his parents work 9-5 jobs. I sit on the couch in his living room, telling him to hurry up so we aren’t late for rehearsal. He doesn’t respond. So, I decide to relax and scroll through Instagram. “Can you come here quick?” He yells. I get up and walk to his room, assuming he needs help finding his script. But when I walk in, he’s laying on his bed. “What did you need?” I ask, annoyed that he’s not worried about getting to rehearsal on time.  His response is just a hungry glare in my direction. I know that look by now. My stomach churns and I want to run but I’m frozen in place. He stands up and grabs my wrist, flinging me onto the bed in one swift motion. I just stare at the ceiling, praying, no, screaming to any God that would listen. I just want it to be over soon. My clothes are gone now, I feel like I’m going to throw up so I try to focus on anything else. His walls are a deep blue, something that could be comforting in any other situation. He has childhood pictures of him and his friends all over his room, but his face in those photos makes me feel even more sick. A child turned monster. He steals my innocence in 5 minutes and then tells me to get dressed because we’re going back to the school for rehearsal. I don’t even cry this time, I just do what he says. My soul was lost in that bed, ripped away from me. This happens every day for the next 5 months and it gets much worse after musical ends. Some people know, some people see him hit me or grab me. But, they don’t say anything. When I finally get the courage to leave, I am bruised and broken, like a baby bird who tried to fly but instead fell to the ground from it’s nest. I was an outcast. I was alone. 

I have felt the touch 3 times.

I am 17 years old. I’m a senior in high school. I didn’t leave after the last incident because I didn’t want to run away from my problems again. I worked hard and tried to make the best of my schooling. It was difficult because everyone found out what happened my freshman year so they judged me immensely. Some people stayed and helped me heal, others told me no one would ever love me. I struggled a lot to regain my confidence and my strength but I’m in a better place now. Music became my safe space, a friend I could turn to at any time of the day for advice. It helped me get my emotions out so I didn’t have to bottle everything up. I found peace with myself. I didn’t get to have the extravagant story of putting my rapist in jail. I didn’t ever even get a sorry from him. But, I need to keep moving forward. I refuse to fall apart and let him get the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. I will continue to scream my story from the rooftops to anyone who will listen and I only wish I can be the glimmer of hope for someone else who needs it. When I was a kid, I always thought being a grown up would be so much fun. I wish I could go back to playing tag and having tea parties. I wish my only worry could be waking up my brothers from singing Taylor Swift songs too loud. But, now I’m applying for college and planning my future. I will continue to do my best in life, despite all the challenges I have faced and all the challenges I will face. That’s the only thing I can do.