y first account of abuse initially began when I was ten years old. I will never forget that day for it is imprinted upon my heart, soul, and body for eternity. I lay there on the bed whilst this older boy; a stranger lay on top of me taking away my virginity, my childhood, my innocence, and my voice.
I kept looking at the ceiling transfixed upon a ceiling light and had glazed eyes as my body transferred, escaped, and left my body. I could see myself watching the scene of being violently raped at such a tender age.
I could not move, although I desperately wanted to do so. I also knew I was in a foreign land; foreign soil and if I did speak about what happened to me, I would be killed for bringing dishonour and shame to my religious family.