Alright. So the first thing I need to say is sorry if my grammar is bad, as it is not my first language.
I am female. And I was a very pretty child. Everybody always told me what a pretty girl I was. As a little child I felt extremely happy at the praise. And didn't find it weird at all.
Alright. Now this happened to me when I was six year old. Me and my family went to a family reunion. I was happy cause I could see all my cousins again.
As a little child all I could think about was how much fun we were going to have while playing.
My family rented a big place, along with others. Where there were a lot of toys and food. There also were a few workers there who helped us. Mostly children, I mean.
Other workers served food and did other things, like play music and other stuff like that.
There was this one guy. Who let's call Mark for this story. He was very active with the kids, always helping them, playing along with their games. I talked to him a lot.
I can't remember what I talked to him about, but random child stuff probably, which included a lot of stupid questions.
He gladly talked with me, and constantly picked me up and but me on top of the small slide that was in the room. In fact he touched me a bit to much. Sometimes when I didn't even need any help.
He constantly touched my arms, or legs, or ran his fingers through my hair.
Others didn't really notice, cause they were all to busy with what they were doing. Like adults were speaking with eachother, workers doing their own work. I didn't found it weird.
I found it to be more of a friendly gesture.
I wanted to ask my mom where the toilet was, but then I saw her talking with her sister so happily, that I didn't feel like bothering her,
and my father was talking with his brother who he hadn't seen for awhile. So I also didn't want to bother him.
So instead I pulled at Mark's sleeve and smiled up at him, while doing my pee dance. I asked him where the toilet was and a large smile appeared on his lips.
He took my hand and lead me out of the room.
He lead me to the toilet and closed the door behind him. A large grin made it's way onto his lips as he made his way towards me. I now understood that something was very, very bad.
I backed away until my back hit the wall. He kneeled down infront of me, and ran his fingers through my long brown hair.
"You're such a pretty girl. You're just like an angel. I can't wait to Fuck you."
I whimpered in fear as he started to pull down my skirt and then also my underwear. I screamed as loud as I possibly could, as tears started to stream down my cheeks.
I tried to get away, but my strength was nothing against his. I tried to scream again, but he covered my mouth.
He grinned widely and opened his mouth ready to say something. But he was stopped by a loud banging on the door. My eyes widened with relief.
His grin seemed to fade and was instead replaced by a scowl.
"Samantha?! Are you in there?!"
It was my uncle, Tom. I had never felt so relieved in my whole life.
I screamed again out for him, but it was muffled by Mark's hand, still my uncle seemed to hear it. He started to bang on the door, eventually managing to break it down.
And the look in his eyes was the angriest I had ever seen him. My uncle is a very calm and nice man, so seeing him like that was terrifying, but also relieving.
By this time my father, mother and few other one of my uncles had come as well. I was still sobbing while laying on the cold bathroom floor. My father seemed like he was ready to murder someone.
He and my other uncles picked Mark up and took him away from me. I heard screams and curses, but I didn't pay attention to it. I just cried into my mother's chest, while holding onto her tightly.
She whispered sweet things into my ear, as she held me close. She managed to calm me down enough that I eventually fell asleep against her.
The next few days, my mother and father did everything to make me feel better, and it worked a bit, but every night I woke up crying, feeling his hands on me.
I am 16 now. And I still sometimes have nightmares about him. I don't know what happened to Mark, nor do I wish to know.
I want to delete all the memories that I have from him, but I know that they won't go away,
But luckily thanks to my family and my Psychologist. Over the years I've gotten much, much better. And I can't feel more grateful for my supportive and fantastic family.
And I feel the most grateful towards my uncle, if he wouldn't have came in at that exact moment, then God only knows what horrible things might have happened to me...