Why I Didn't Report: My Story

When I was five years old, on my first day of kindergarten, I met the man who would single-handedly try to destroy my soul.

I was raped almost every day from the time I was five until I was ten. My assaults were filmed and photographed, something that still haunts me to this day.

My body didn't feel like mine—it felt dirty, and I was in constant pain. That burning light in my soul felt like it was no longer there and my life felt pointless. Every Sunday I'd sit in church and pray for God to just take my life and end the pain.

During our last encounter, he tried to drown me in a pool and a man was courageous enough to say something. Out of fear, he threw me in the car and I was able to go home but to this day I don't know how to swim.

At some point I came to the realization in my late 20s that I deserved to survive and that I would not let my pain overtake my life.

The pain after rape felt almost worse than the rape itself. We are left with scars on our souls that are slow healing. We hold more pain than our abuser, we are shamed and we live with fear.

I want others to know that we can survive and we deserve to not be silenced. There is life after trauma and we all deserve to have a happy and healthy life.