i must have given the impression that i wanted to; at first, i suppose i did. but i wanted his hands on me the way you wish you were famous when you're 17 years old and stuck in a one-horse town: deep down, i knew it wasn't right, but since it would never come to fruition, i was safe to daydream and, yes, flirt a little. i never told him no, so it doesn't count. i wasn't drunk or drugged or coerced, and i certainly didn't fight it. i gave him all the signs - yes, i wanted this. i didn't really ever say yes, but so neither did he, and no questions were asked. it was all very obvious: i wanted him, and he wanted me, so we would have each other.
i was a child. i wish i could say that he was all in the wrong, that he was the sole perpetrator. maybe then my trauma would be valid, maybe then i could tell my family and justice would be served. but that isn't how it was - i was at fault as well. he was, however, a man - no more than a few years older than me but eons more mature and in that man's body i so desired.
he was a man, and i am a child. there's no justice here to be served.
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