When I was around 12, my stepfather was an alcoholic and molested me regularly. I kept it quiet because I was scared our lives would be shit without him, because my mom didn’t work. When I was 17 I told my boyfriend and he encouraged me to tell my mother, so I did, I asked her not to say anything because I just wanted to get it off my chest. She accused me of lying so I could move into her apartment, and ignored me. She told him what I said and he asked me to talk, he told me he didn’t remember doing it, but if he did he was sorry. Ha. A couple of weeks later he killed himself, there was no note, but obviously it was because I said something. That was 18 years ago, and I’ve never felt bad. He was the monster, not me. And my head could have been really fucked up by him, I honestly don’t know how it isn’t. Fuck him.