TRIGGERING!! - please don't read if hearing about child abuse will trigger you. I was 5. He was 18. I don't remember the first time it happened or how long it went on for, to me it seemed like years. I do remember that it happened every day. Even when my parents were in the house. But I was most afraid when they weren't, because it would be worse. I had a choice, I could've not gone upstairs with him. But every time I hoped he wouldn't do it, that this time he'd just be nice to me and wouldn't hurt me. But that never happened. Every time I would lie on the bed staring upwards waiting for it to be over. And when it was he would tell me that he had fun, and it was "our little secret". And like a fool I kept that secret. I even kept it a secret when he made me touch him while he was in the bath. I lied for him on a daily basis. I don't remember why I finally told, the only thing I remember was his mother calling me a whore. He was 18, but the thing was he had a mental age of about 7. He was a kid too, and I should've been the responsible one. I must have done something to make him think I wanted this. He's not the abuser, I am.