All I did was exist. But I feel so guilty. And the death-inducing video plays itself over, and over, and over again. So why did he have to rape me that night? Why did he have to tell me we'd be going to have some fun? He was dating my mother, and I was just twelve. Even now, I have limited trust in my boyfriend because of this. I love him, he loves me, I'm certain. He claims to understand. I'm sure he does. He was raped too. Why is that I can't handle it and he can? I was so vulnerable that night. Yelled at, beaten, raped, hurt. Hurt. The physical pain is nothing in comparison. I'd just like to be able to hug my perfect, absolute, lovely boyfriend without feeling so uneasy. Without seeing that man everywhere I go. My boyfriend doesn't deserve any of this. The fact that he's patient enough to stay with me shows his sheer perfection. And I'm so far from worth it. But, for Christ's sake, all I did was exist. It never ends, does it?