My memory may be unreliable on some of the details; my story has likely changed in increments I don’t even notice over the years. But I know that he hurt me and I didn’t want him to. I know that I asked him not to. I know that he didn’t listen for a while, but I don’t remember how long that while was. I know that I spent time trying to pry his hands off my neck and it didn’t work until I was in a lot of pain. I know that I was a teenager and that he was much older. I know that I didn’t call it assault at the time, or for years later, and neither did anyone else. I know that I was nice to him,
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