It was 5 years ago. I was living with my mom, her boyfriend and his son. I was 10, he was 14. It all started as a game. We had fun together. Played video games, watched movies, and we just talked about anything. I thought he was the coolest thing since middle school. But the everything changed that one day. Some people say that he couldn't help himself, he was young, but so was I. He led me to his room. "Do you like me?" He asked. It was a question I was asked a lot. I wasn't popular or anything, I just didn't know how to show my emotions. I thought then decided to tell him the truth. "Yeah, I think you're really cool," I replied innocently. He smiled. "Touch me" it was an odd command and I knew it. I told him no but he insisted. "It's just a game," he said frowning "It'll be fun." I looked at him for a moment. I said okay and touched his chest. "No," he said, "Not there." He took my hand hand and pushed it lower. He put it in a place I didn't want it. I pulled away. "No!" I yelled. He hit me. "Yes," he replied calmly. We heard the garage door opening. "Get out," he said . I didn't hesitate. It went like this for a few years. Flash Forward, I was 12, it started the. Same as always he put my hand somewhere I pulled away, but this time he pushed me onto his bed. He took my shirt off and started playing wi my breasts. "Are you guys home yet?" My older sister called up the stairs. He jumped off of me and I yanked my shirt off and went back downstairs. I started cutting myself at age 12 also, most of it was because of him. The deepest ones at least. The incidents didn't get too much further than that but one day, in December of 2012, he tried again. I was 14. This time he took away my innocents. I was already on depression, bipoplor, and sleeping medication. So I took every last bit that was in the bottles. I was found laying on the stairs. I had a handprint on the right side of my face, a busted lip, and bruises form my face to my thighs. I woke up in the hospital. Not the ones you go to when you don't feel good. The one you go to when you tried to kill yourself. Which is what I did. I spent my third time in Three Rivers learning everything I've already learned. While I was in there though another boy, age 16 tried to sexually abuse me and another girl. By the time I got out ,Febuary 14th, 2013, I was tired of being used. To this day I still talk to a councilor and I don't trust guys as much as I used to, but I am no longer a victim. I made it through all of this after years of abuse. Now, I'm a better person. I'm more experienced, cautious, and careful. But, I love my life and I wouldn't be me without the things I've been through. So in a weird way I thank the people who hurt me. Thank you for making me, we'll, me.