A story from your childhood

I don't remember much, the trauma doesn't allow me to, but from time to time I have gaps, nightmares even. 

When I was about twelve or thirteen, I don't remember well (or I prefer not to), I started talking to an older man. He lived in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and said he was about twenty, although maybe that was a lie, I don't know and I don't want to. He said nice things to me, things we all want to hear ''You are very beautiful'', ''You are very mature for your age'', ''You are one of the most intelligent people I know''. But I was just a child and I didn't know I was being used.

At that time I didn't live with my parents, but with my grandparents, who are not known for being overly affectionate. I also didn't have many friends or anyone to help me realise what a terrible situation it was. So the lack of parental figures and affection made me easy prey. 

Soon I was in his claws, doing whatever he wanted. He forced me to send him videos because ''it was what a girlfriend did'', he encouraged me not to talk to anyone because ''no one understood me better than he did'' and of course I couldn't tell anyone what we were doing, no one was supposed to know.

It wasn't until my mother checked my mobile one day that the situation stopped, but instead of helping me and understanding that I was a victim, she stopped talking to me for a week. All she would talk to me for was to insult me, to tell me that I was a disgrace to the family or that I had ruined her life. And I decided I didn't want to live anymore, so one night, before going to bed, I wrote a suicide note to kill myself the next day after school. 

It was evident, my mother no longer trusted me and, although I didn't know, she went through my drawers often, so she saw the letter. She waited until I was out of school and took me to the psychologist, where I was not seen as a victim either, but as a silly girl, but at least my mother had stopped hating me.

After a traumatic experience at the psychologist's (which I went to often), I decided that I had had enough. I chose that just getting away from my past was enough, so I stopped using all social networks in fear that he would find me.

I closed my email account, changed my phone number, deactivated all my accounts, but I was still afraid to enter websites to download a film or video game in case I saw any of the photos he forced me to take. It did happen, but I don't know if it was because my brain refused to recognise it or because I convinced myself that nothing bad would happen to me if I tried not to remember, the fact is that at the time I decided to ignore it.

My parents decided not to report it, so I know I was neither their first nor his last victim. But if there is one thing I know, it is that if I limit myself to self-pity, the same thing that happened to me can continue to happen to others. And that is why I am now fighting against pedophilia, because I refuse to let it happen to one more child.