“Or what?” “Or I’m going to tell.” “Tell?” He tossed the word out like it was something laughable. “Christ, what age are you?” “I’m seventeen now,” I bit out. “But I was seven when you raped me.” “Don’t—” “I was seven years old when you first raped me!” I said louder, refusing to be silenced a second longer by my fear of this man. “I was eleven years old when you finally stopped!”
