…

I was 8.
We were having a family dinner at my grandfather’s home, and a family friend had been invited. He brought his son with him. He was 16.
While all adults were talking on the dining room, he got me into my cousin’s dormitory and, using the pretext of a tickling game, touched me all over my legs and my crotch. He also told me I could touch him, but I didn’t cause even then in my innocence I noticed something wrong was happening.
I didn’t realise I had been sexually assaulted until many years afterwards. And sometimes I can’t help but think it was partially my fault, or that I can’t complain about it, for not resisting harder or for not telling my parents right away. Now I don’t even think I will ever tell them, for I don’t want them to feel guilty over it.