It was a beautiful Friday morning and as usual my dad would drive us to school in his red Toyota; for some reason that day we had a lot of people in the car so I decided to go sit in the back next to one of my dad's family members. While I sat there, all I could feel was his hand on my legs, touching me while my dad was driving and talking to him, his hands were going higher and higher; soon they were between my legs and he was trying to pull off my underwear. All I could remember was the fact that it didn't feel good and that it was hurting. Suddenly, the drive to school felt longer than usual, finally I arrived to school and went to pee but I couldn't because it hurt when peeing. I wanted to tell my mom and dad but for one I didn't really understand what happened and for some reason I thought that it was my fault. This happened when I was eight-years-old, still young and innocent. A few months passed and we moved out and lived at another place.

We had some guests that came from the U.S. and stayed at our house for a few days. I loved watching TV, so stayed up all night watching TV because it was summertime and school was closed. The youngest one came to me and asked if he could watch TV with me and I said yes. We laid there and the next thing you know, he was feeling me up and down again and again and all I was thinking was "if someone came in they'd think that it was my fault." He did whatever he did and I left. That happened when I was 10 years-old.

I went on vacation during the summer and I stayed with a family member and they had a guest over. He called me one night to help him with something so I went to his room; while I was helping him, my boyfriend at the time called me; I picked up the phone and we started talking. I sat on the floor with the computer in my hands, all of the sudden I felt my bra get loose, I was like Oh OK. He started touching my breasts and that's when I told him that I had to go because my aunt needed my help with cooking. As I was walking, my boyfriend heard me crying and asked me " what's wrong?" I told him what he did and he was furious; he told me to call the police but all I could think about was how they'd turn it on me and said that I wasn't persistentenough or I could have screamed or something. I spent all night crying and thought that something was wrong with me and blamed myself for all that happened to me. I was 13-years-old.

After everything that happened, all I could think about was that I can't possibly let these things mess me up, I will go to school, I will graduate and go to college no matter what. I know it's painful and that no one would understand where I'm coming from or why I didn't say something and go to the police, but I wouldn't have a problem telling anyone why I didn't go talk to my parents or the police.

After I graduated high school, I got accepted to a college; I made some friends and we were joking about how I've been single for a long time and one of them wanted to play matchmaker so I said why not? Her friend came and started hanging out. He said "can I get a massage?" I said "sure." As I was giving it to him, he mumbled something and I didn't hear him. So he got up and started closing the blinds and locked the door. I asked him " what are you doing?" He didn't say anything, he turned me around and pushed me on the bed and he forced his penis to penetrate my vagina; all I remembered was me asking God not this again so I guess he got tired of forcing so he asked me to give him a blowjob so I did.

I remembered calling my friend telling her what happened; she called her cousin that goes to the same school as I did, and I told her what happened. We went to the hospital, I told them what happened, they asked me " do you want us to call the police?" I told them " No". So my friend asked me to call my parents, I hesitated for a moment but I did call them. My mom and my sister came to the hospital crying. I was embarrassed because at that time I felt like a failure, that I failed my mother, my dad and my sisters. I felt hopeless. I went home and my mom told me to tell the police so I did. I went to the police and told them what happened and they told me they'd contact the people that were involved. They asked me all of these questions like" were you drinking?, what were you wearing? why didn't you scream? why didn't you say no or be more persistent about it?"

I told my other friend, the matchmaker, about what happened, and she texted me this whole paragraph saying "why did I do this?" and " You should have come to me and not the police," You did this because you want attention," and " I hope you have a wonderful life." I remembered that night I was crying my eyes off, I couldn't breath, I didn't know what to do, so I called my friend and told her what happened and she asked if I wanted to go home and I said yeah.

On the way home, all I could think of was why would she say something so horrible and mean to me? What did I do to deserve all of these things that were happening to me? Why can't I be just like the other girls? I did not have a great childhood and now this. Something must be wrong with me.

A couple days later, the police called me and told me that they wouldn't press charges because both stories didn't match and hung up. In my head, I was like what do they mean? Is it no means no? How can you tell me something like this and in a state like this?

Now you guys see why I didn't want to tell the police. Apparently, what happened was that because I was not persistent enough, I was giving him mixed signals. The last time I checked no still means no whether I came up to you and wanted to have sex; but if you say no that still means there's nothing around it.

Also my parents, my mom put a lot of pressure on me, asking me to go to court because she would not be paying the bill once they got back and my dad stopped talking to me for a whole month. I guess they didn't know how to deal with it; how to make me feel good about myself, make me feel better.

At first, I was like I'm doing great, I don't need counseling. So, I started doing drugs, drinking and rebelling against my parents. I even stopped believing in God and blamed him for everything. One day, I went to class and my psychology professor told us there was this counseling program for grad students; if you go then it'll count as a credit. At first, it was for the extra credit but as time passed, I found myself opening more and talking about all past wounds, how much I was suffering, how it affected how I saw the world. So I went, it made me feel good about myself, gave me my self esteem back. I was happy and doing great at school.

I rose above and beyond everything that had happened to me. I didn't give up on school, I did my homework, I walked around with my head held high. I did not let the past define me and dime or turn off the fire that I was and still had inside me. So to all the girls that are going through this, just remember that you are not alone, you have others that are going through it too. Speaking up might not be your first choice but you have one person that will always be there for you and that's God.

The way I coped with all of these things were through prayers. I still believe that God has a plan for me and I will on wait on Him patiently.

I didn't write this article to have people take sympathy or pity, I wrote it because I do not want to be a victim. Instead I want to stand up for all victims. We have to stop blaming the victim, you have to remember that we did not ask for this. This could happen to anybody whether you were the most careful woman on the earth or the safest, you just never know. When you are blaming it on us, you make us feel worthless, make us feel small and it won't help.

You have to keep telling us that it wasn't our fault, that you didn't know that this would have gone this far. I believe that everything happens for a reason. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.