He Molested Me

I was only 7 years old

Grace Thomas
The Memoirist
4 min readJun 11, 2023

--

Little girl back’s view
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash

*Trigger warning: This article contains references to sexual assault and pedophilia. It may be disturbing and traumatizing for some people.

If I can only kick his face today, I would. How could he do that to a 7-year-old kid? I wish he will go to hell when he dies.

He was a nice man. He brought me cute gifts and played with me. That was what I thought about him until he took me on his lap one day and started molesting me.

I still remember the day when I was playing with my little sister in my grandma’s house. My grandma was outside visiting someone I didn’t remember and would come back after a while. This man, X, a friend of my Uncle Jo, visited us to have a chat with my grandma. I told him grandma was away and he said okay and would wait for her.

So, I continued to play with my sister inside my grandma’s room. X was outside in the living room. We were kids, but we knew we were not supposed to be with strangers.

But then, we heard knocking on the door. We peeked outside and there he was, that jerk X was asking if he could go inside and play with us. We said no. Then he asked me particularly if he could talk to me alone outside. He wanted to give me ‘something’. I, being silly, thought he wanted to give me candy. Boy, I was so wrong.

When I went outside, he asked me to sit on his lap. I agreed. He began talking about my school and my friends, then suddenly he started touching my private part.

He fingered me. I told him no. Yet he kept on going and told me it would feel good afterward.

It didn’t feel good.

I told him I didn’t like it and began to panic. I ran towards the room where my sisters’ at. She had been calling me since I went out with X. That pedophile, X, chased me then my little sister, 5 years old, and I tried to close the room’s door together.

He pushed the door while asking me to go out again. I said no because I didn’t like the game. I cried.

He was powerful. He easily opened the door and went inside. He hugged me and told me that it would be okay. My little sister smacked him and screamed telling him to go away. He looked at my sister before he looked at me and asked me to keep it a secret. One thing I was grateful for, he didn’t do anything more after that.

I didn’t know what I felt that day. I didn’t know how to describe the uneasiness I was feeling. But I knew what he had done to me was wrong. That moment kept on replaying in my mind, in my dreams. Every time that happens, I sulked. I was traumatized. I shouldn’t be traumatized; I was only a kid. I shouldn’t have that kind of memory, because I was only… 7.

So, I told my mom. I was shaking while telling her the story. I felt scared and confused, but I knew I needed to tell her. She was my mother. Unfortunately, she didn’t believe me…

Maybe because I was a child. Maybe I didn’t say it loud enough. Maybe I was not important. Maybe she thought I was making up stories. Maybe what he had done to me was… insignificant.

Nothing had been done afterward. Nothing.

He didn’t say sorry to me. My mom didn’t even talk about it. While my sister... she was 5, what did she know? But I, on the other hand, remember it all. I still remember his face, his hair, and the shape of his body, because I hate him.

I confronted my mom when I was 28. I told the story again and she said she didn’t remember that I ever told her about my tragedy. She said sorry for not believing me. I guess she was facing her own monster back then. Just to clear things out, my mom is a great person. Everyone makes mistakes, including the person you love.

As for X, he is the reason I am scared of getting close to any boys. Or whenever I’m in a tight space situation, I would start hyperventilating. I hate the shape of squares because his face is square. It’s a stupid reason but it’s true.

May you grow scabies on your face, Mr. X. (may the cure doesn’t exist)

27 years have passed but I can still remember that awful day like it was just yesterday. I am blessed I found my husband; he understands the trauma I faced, and he keeps on proving to me that he is a good man.

Being a mother of 3 beautiful daughters, I vow to myself that I will listen to anything my kids tell me, no matter how silly it is.

I will trust everything they say and take action on it. That was what the 7-year-old me wanted…

Someone to believe me.

If you enjoyed this piece, make sure to follow me so you don’t miss any of my upcoming articles! Grace Thomas — Medium

--

--

Grace Thomas
The Memoirist

I like to talk to myself, inside the car, while driving. Thus, I think it would be best to share my thoughts with everyone.