Define molestation. mo les·ta tion- to subject to unwanted or improper sexual activity.

So, does it mean I was molested?

I was in my camper around 12:30 and watching Princess Mononoke, wrapped up in an overly large, purple, squashy blanket. A knock comes to my door and I open it. It’s Steven. He comes in and he sits down. About five minutes later, he puts his arm around me. I find it a little weird, but I don’t care much. He says that he got the ball rolling, so I should keep it that way. I don’t act.

And suddenly I find him kissing me. My mouth is forced open and his tongue is invading my mouth. I could have stopped him. It was uncomfortable, but I guess I was scared. He got on top of me and I couldn’t breathe. I thought of crying out for help, but it was going to be useless for two reasons. My house was asleep, and even if they were awake, I was outside in the camper, and unless the windows are open (which they weren’t), you can’t hear anything, and two, if my parents saw, they’d get the wrong idea. They’d think I provoked him to do it.

His hand slides up my shirt and up under my bra (I sleep in my bra) and he gropes. Again I could have stopped him. His mouth goes to where his hand was. I wanted to slap him, push him away, but I was scared shitless. He was so aggressive, if I told him no, he probably wouldn’t have stopped. I let out whimpers of fright, which he mistook for moans of pleasure.

I couldn’t move. He had an unfair amount of leverage, and the more I tried to shake free, the more trapped I seemed to get. So I gave up. I let him win. I let him do whatever he wanted to me. I did this with him before, I wasn’t foreign to this sort of thing, but we’re comparing a 5 foot 9 or 10 inch 15-year-old with a 23-year-old, full grown 6 foot 2 inch full frown man. It’s like comparing a chicken to a tyrannosaurus rex. (not implying that he's a chicken in the least, I’m trying my best to contrast.)

He took off my pants and touched me in places only he ever really even knew about. I felt so violated when he left. I felt disgustingly dirty. I went inside and washed my hands about three times. I considered showering, but that would wake up my parents. I went back out into the camper and wrapped up in three blankets. Two were comforters and one was a down comforter. Normally, just the down comforter is warm enough or too warm, but I had all three around me and I was shivering my ass off.

Was I molested? I wasn’t raped, because there wasn’t sex as in intercourse. Was I even violated? This happens to one out of every four girls, right? So it’d be nothing to worry about. Then why do I feel this way?

“Tell someone of authority!” I can hear you say. No. No thank you. I really don’t want anyone except for my best friend to know. They’d make me talk about it. I’ll be fine by myself. I got through my depression okay, didn’t I? Yes, I did thank you!

Listen, if you know me personally, don’t tell anyone okay? I’m just trying to voice what happened so that I may cope with it. It’ll help. I’ll be fine. I promise. Don’t tell anyone!!!!!!